Hockey practice was brutal.
Not the usual kind where you curse the drills and limp off the ice feeling accomplished. This one felt personal. Like the ice itself was daring me to lose control.
I took the hit harder than necessary. Checked back harder than required. My shoulders burned, lungs on fire, sweat dripping down my spine as the coach barked orders I barely heard. The stick in my hands creaked from how tight my grip was.
Jason skated past me, breathing hard. “You’re going to c***k the ice if you keep hitting like that.”
“I’m fine,” I said.
He snorted. “That’s how I know you’re not.”
The whistle blew. Practice ended. I didn’t feel any relief.
I stripped off my gear in silence, movements sharp and efficient. My wolf was restless, pacing under my skin like it wanted out. Ever sin
