Chapter 197: We’ll play until the final game

In the National Hockey League, glory isn’t given; it’s bled for. To lift the Stanley Cup in the Finals, a team has to secure four victories out of seven grueling games.

We had taken Game 1 with everything we had, but one win was merely a drop in the bucket. Three more stood between us and the ultimate trophy.

I stared out at the freezing Seattle morning, watching my breath plume into a pale mist against the glass. The long, gloomy rainy season had finally given way to the deep, biting chill of late spring entering early summer—a strange, crisp transition where the air felt razor-sharp.

​I had no idea how my body was going to hold up through three more brutal games, but I prayed with every fiber of my being that it wouldn’t betray me before the final buzzer sounded. Because deep down, beneath the denial and the stubborn pride, I knew this was my last season on the ice.

​A sudden, dull ache twitched deep in my lower abdomen—a subtle, nagging pull from the secret life growing inside me.

My hand moved instinctively, my palm pressing flat against my shirt to cradle the spot. I caught Reid’s sharp grey eyes watching me from across the corridor, his jaw tightening as he registered the gesture.

But because we were standing out in the open near the player exit, he kept his distance, offering only a steady, watchful presence instead of smothering me.

​We endured another hour of Coach Devin’s relentless post-game breakdown—a chaotic storm of backhanded compliments, sharp critiques, and barked orders—before the team was finally dismissed.

​As we made our way toward the private exit, Reid’s phone buzzed violently in his pocket. He pulled it out, his expression darkening the moment he saw the caller ID. He hesitated, his thumb hovering over the screen. He hated answering her calls, but he knew his mother; ignoring her only guaranteed she would do something drastic or intrusive.

​With a tight breath, Reid stepped into a quiet nook near the player tunnel and pressed the phone to his ear.

​"What have you concluded?" her cold, demanding voice cut through the receiver immediately. "Do you really plan to let him play with his body like that?"

​Reid went silent. His hand tightened over the casing until his knuckles turned white. If he didn’t know better, he would have thought she was actually worried about me. But he knew her better than anyone. She didn’t care about my health; she simply loathed the sport, hated the violent culture surrounding it, and despised anything that anchored her son to it.

​"We’ll play until the final game," Reid said, his voice dropping into a low, uncompromising growl. "His body will hold up until then."

​A sharp, cruel huff came over the line. "And since when did you become an expert in telling whether a body can hold up or not? He’s an Omega, for crying out loud. And a weak one, with a contaminated body."

​"I thought I told you not to talk like that about him," Reid growled, his pine scent spiking thick and lethal around him in the empty hallway. "He is not contaminated."

​"Believe whatever you want, but his body isn’t normal and it isn’t where it belongs," she replied smoothly, untroubled by his rising temper. "If you really care about him, you’ll take him to an Omega care center right away and get him off that ice. Exerting himself like this will only inflict permanent damage."

​"And why do you suddenly care, Mom?" Reid demanded, his eyes narrowing into cold slits.

​"I don’t care for him," she said bluntly, her tone dripping with calculated indifference. "It’s you I’m worried about. You’re so utterly obsessed with this Captain that I am a hundred percent sure you won’t take another Omega as your partner. If that’s the case, then I want to make sure he at least births a strong, capable heir for you. The two of you can live the rest of your lives however you want. Just... do not drag the child into your mess, and make sure it is born healthy."

​Click.

​The line went dead. Reid stood frozen in the cold hallway, the heavy silence settling over him like lead as his mother’s parting words echoed through his mind.

I caught the tail end of his posture collapsing, the rigid tension in his broad shoulders easing just a fraction too late as he lowered the phone from his ear. I stepped out from behind the concrete pillar, the cool concrete floor silent beneath my sneakers.

​"Reid?" I asked softly, searching his face. The hallway light caught the tight set of his jaw before he smoothed it over. "What’s wrong?"

​He didn’t tell me. Reid was built like an anchor, the kind of man who believed he could carry every piece of bad news, every threat, and every quiet insult on his own back without letting a single ounce of it spill over onto me. He forced a faint, easy smile—the kind he used when he was trying to brush off minor but important detail—and slid the phone back into his pocket.

​"Nothing, Cap," Reid said, his voice smooth, though the pine scent lingering around him still carried a sharp, protective spike. "Just my mom nagging again. And... my father said to tell you hi."

​"Oh," I whispered.

​I looked down at the scuffed floorboards, the word tasting like lead on my tongue. I didn’t need him to spell it out. I knew his mother. I could practically hear her cold, cultured voice dripping through the speaker, questioning why her amazing Alpha son was tying himself to a broken Omega who insisted on getting slammed into the boards four nights a week.

She was probably demanding he abandon the contaminated waste of a partner I was, telling him I’d ruin his pedigree, and his future.

​A tight, suffocating knot pulled taut right in the center of my chest. My throat went completely dry, my airway narrowing as a sudden, sharp ache echoed deep in my lower belly.

​"Kain?" Reid’s smile instantly vanished. He took a step toward me, his hand reaching out to hover near my elbow, his grey eyes locked onto mine with sudden, sharp intensity. "Hey. Look at me."

"Hey, what are you guys up to?" I flinched as Gerald’s voice shattered the quiet hallway, my instinct kicking in before my brain could stop it.

I took a sharp step back out of Reid’s reach, putting a few inches of safe, neutral distance between us as we both turned toward the doorway.

​Gerald was leaning against the doorframe, twirling his car keys around his index finger with a broad, easy grin.

​"We’re heading to Miller’s place for a team party," Gerald said, oblivious to the heavy, suffocating air he had just walked into. "Just a small post-Game 1 blowoff before Devin puts us back on lockdown tomorrow. You two coming?"

​Reid’s hand froze mid-air where he had been reaching for me. His grey eyes flicked from Gerald back to my face, taking in my pale skin and the tight, strained set of my mouth. The territorial, protective Alpha in him wanted nothing more than to scoop me up, pull me away from the team, and shield me in the quiet sanctuary of our apartment.

​I swallowed hard, forcing my throat to open up as I cleared my voice, desperate to pull every trace of weakness off my face before Gerald noticed.

​"Yeah," I said, my voice quiet but steady enough to sound like the Captain again. I looked over at Reid, giving him a small, imperceptible nod to reassure him that I wasn’t about to shatter. "We’ll be right there, Gerald. Give us a second."

​Gerald nodded, tapping the doorframe twice. "Sweet. Don’t take all night, Cap. Rookie." He turned and vanished back down the hall toward the parking garage.

​The moment Gerald’s footsteps faded, the silence rushed back in, heavy and thick.

​Reid didn’t move. He stood there in the dim light of the corridor, his jaw set tight, his gaze searching my eyes with a fierce, quiet intensity that made my heart ache.

​"We don’t have to go, Kain," Reid murmured, his voice dropping into that low, private register meant only for me. "I can tell them you’re exhausted. We can go straight home."

​"No," I whispered, reaching out to lightly brush my knuckles against his wrist—just a brief, hidden touch before wrapping my fingers around the strap of my gear bag. "If the Captain skips the victory party after Game 1, people will ask questions. We go, we stay for an hour, and then we leave."

​Reid stared down at me for a long beat, letting out a heavy, defeated breath through his nose. He knew I was right, even if he hated every second of it.

​"Then let’s show face but for only an hour," Reid rasped, stepping closer to fall into lockstep beside me as we walked toward the exit. "And the second you feel even a little bit off, we’re out the door."

I gave a single, tight nod, pulling my chin up as we pushed through the double doors and into the crisp, biting night.