Page 65 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

"So," Ivy says from her seat on the edge of the bed, pulling her knees up to her chest. "What's the plan for next week? The game against the Demons."

The mood shifts again. Can't seem to avoid Wade's shadow for long.

"I'm not sure about leaving you here alone," I admit. "Would you be cool with staying at the arena again? Where you were hiding before?"

"I could watch on the security cameras," she muses. "But I don't love the idea of being alone in the tunnels, either. This is something I've actually been thinking about. I was wondering… maybe I could wear a mask myself? The winter types a lot of the fans have."

Wraith's brow furrows in worry. He signs something to her that I don't catch. Okay, maybe he was right to fingerspell to me. Apparently, I need another fifty or sixty hours of YouTubes and TikToks.

"I'd feel safest hiding in plain sight," she explains. "I could redye my roots a darker brown and blend in with the audience. You could keep an eye on me that way. Now that I'm out of heat, my scent shouldn't bleed through suppressants. It feels like the safest plan. But you have to promise me something."

"Anything," Plague says immediately.

"You play the game," she says, and there's steel under the softness. "No targeting Wade. You win on the scoreboard, not with your fists. As of right now, unless Valek has said something to him, there's no reason for him to suspect anything. Don't give him a reason, no matter how hard it is. Promise me."

Plague lets out a long, deep sigh. "I promise."

"Promise. Scout's honor," I say, smacking my chest for emphasis even though everything in me wants to punch Wade in the fucking mouth until he's shitting teeth. "I don't like it, but it isn't my call, wildcat."

Ivy gives me one of those little smiles that makes me putty in her hands. "You don't have to like it. You just have to do it."

"We will," Plague murmurs.

Wraith signs something, his movements sharp and angry.

Whatever he's saying, it makes Ivy sigh. "I know. But he's not worth you ending up in prison." She looks at me and Plague. "And that goes for you, too. And Thane. All of you."

I can't help the grin that spreads across my face. "All of us, huh? You like us, too, wildcat? Not just Wraith?" I ask, jerking my head to him with an even wider grin. He blinks at me, then at her like we're all nuts.

Ivy rolls her eyes—she does it as much as Plague does—but she's grinning, too. "We'll see," she says, curling up in the half-made nest on the bed as there's a tap at the window. Despite everything, she doesn't jump. Just glances up as Wraith lumbers over to the window to see who it is.

It's just Thane, his hair plastered to his face from the rain and dripping all over the floorboards. He heads straight for Ivy like she's got him on a fishing line and she's reeling him in, already telling her how Valek's in his room and everything seems okay for now.

This is nice as fuck.

Plague's finally relaxed enough that his spine isn't trying to fuse with his skull. Wraith's still a little tense, but way less than his baseline. Thane's chatting with Ivy, his usual stuffy seriousness apparently left out in the rain.

This. Right here. These people.

This is my home.

Chapter 12

Ivy

Aweek can feel like a freaking lifetime when you're hiding in a loft from your abusive ex-fiancé who happens to be one of the most recognizable faces in professional hockey.

I stare at myself in the one part of Wraith's bathroom mirror that isn't scuffed to hell and back so he doesn't have to see his own reflection. The box of dark brown hair dye Thane brought me—he dyes his premature grays, apparently, so he knew exactly which dye to recommend, much to Whiskey's delight and endless amusement—sits empty on the counter, the smell of the chemicals making my eyes water even with the vent on and the door open.

My auburn roots are gone. Covered. Hidden.

Just like the rest of me.

The omega in the mirror looks like a stranger. Dark hair, pale skin, circles under my eyes that won't fade no matter how much sleep I get.

I look haunted.

Fair assessment, considering.