I’d watched the entire game from the tunnel, and it was satisfying seeing my exes get their asses handed to them on the ice. The place where they truly thought they were kings.
At first, their reaction was subtle, as if they thought it was just a bad day of play. Then Kieran got involved. My heart leapt into my throat as I watched him slam Milo into the glass. From the confusion on Milo’s face, he had no clue what that was about.
Lennon and Mason had checked Sutton at one point, almost starting a full-on fight.
It was as if the designations were going after each other. Though, to be honest, if Wilder took on Dean, it was over. He was twice the other beta’s size. Wilder bulked up to stay on par with the alphas. Dean never did. He stayed small, but he was quick.
I’d spent my entire life watching men play hockey. Starting with my dads, then my brother, who I probably cheered on the most. Conrad was incredible out there, blocking almost everything they flung toward him.
When Kieran slammed Milo again, he looked right at me, pointing to tell me he was following through with his promise.
“Shit,” I cursed, backing away, knowing the cameras would follow to see what he was pointing at.
Thankfully, this game was on our own turf, and I hurried back to the kitchen. There were TVs in almost every room, making sure we could still watch while we worked.
It was currently just me, however.
I hopped up on the stainless-steel counter, my eyes glued to the screen. Wilder stole the puck. Despite his size, he was almost graceful on his skates, moving his bulky body and carefully gliding around the ice like it was where he belonged.
Yet, there was no arrogance to it like with my exes. He was confident, but not cocky, and I was learning there was a huge difference between the two.
As I watched, my eyes constantly drifting up to the screen, I got to work on a birthday cake.
I’d run to the store earlier for ingredients and done some solid social media FBI work on Kieran’s profile, then hers. I found pictures with cake, and every year it seemed to be peanut butter cupcakes. The chocolate cake was already done, cooling on the counter before Kieran had ended up in the penalty box for the third time.
The Wardens were out for blood, like circling sharks striking whenever they could.
It was brutal to watch. The crowd was electric tonight because of it, thundering voices echoing down the hall to me.
Even as I chopped the peanut butter cups and whipped up fresh chocolate buttercream, I couldn’t take my eyes off the screen, constantly flicking between what I was doing and the game. Honestly, it was a miracle I didn’t stress-eat my way through the cake before it was time.
The announcers speculated about what could be causing the change in rivalry. It was no surprise to anyone that there was trouble between the two teams. It was a well-known fact. But anyone could see that this was beyond that.
The Wardens swiftly swept the floor with the Narwhals. I blew out a breath as they announced the final score, glad it was over.
The cake was finished and fully decorated, and I found some cardstock for him to write her a letter. A small celebration to honor her, to miss her, something I did every year for my best friend.
It didn’t fix the pain. In fact, it honored it and gave it space without letting it consume my entire life. I hoped Kieran would find some peace in it too, though I was sure beating the Narwhals’ asses was cathartic in its own way.
My nerves were shot by the time the kitchen door swung open. I gasped, ducking behind the counter, half expecting my old pack to walk in.
“Sis, what the hell are you doing?” Conrad laughed. “Super subtle, by the way.”
I gripped the edge of the counter, peeking over it so all he could see were my eyes. “Don’t laugh. I’ve been a nervous wreck,” I hissed.
“You know you don’t have to hide anymore, right?”
“I know that,” I huffed, forcing myself to stand confidently now.
“Plus, their bus left ten minutes ago. You’re safe.”
I practically deflated onto one of the stools.
“It smells amazing in here. What have you been up to? Stress baking?”
“This time it wasn’t just baking, thank you very much,” I grumbled. “It’s for Gabriella’s birthday.”
His eyes widened. “He told you?”
