"Nora, please lock the door before the reporters break it down!" Harper yelled, her voice trembling with a mix of panic and sheer exhaustion as she slammed her shoulder against the thick metal frame.
"It's already locked, Carp," I said, my voice sounding completely hollow, even to my own ears.
"They're swarming the hallway like vultures," she gasped, dropping her heavy press bag onto a nearby equipment trunk. She looked at me, her face completely pale with worry. "The feeds are losing their minds. I am so, so sorry. Logan is an absolute monster for what he did out there on live television."
"I'm totally fine," I lied, staring straight ahead.
"You're not fine, Nora! Stop doing this!" Harper cried out, her voice cracking under the weight of her own fear for my career. "The mate bond literally just tore apart in front of millions of people. You can't just sit there and pretend you don't feel the agony of that rejection."
Locker room walls usually echoed with the chaotic, blissful sound of celebration, but right now, the silence between our words was absolutely suffocating.
I sat completely frozen on the low wooden bench, still wearing my heavy shoulder pads and dark hockey pants. My skates were firmly planted on the dark rubber floor mats, but I couldn't bring myself to unlace them.
My hands were shaking inside my gloves, a quiet, roaring anger vibrating under my skin. I just stared blankly at the gray floor tiles, watching my phone buzz relentlessly against the bench next to my leg. Every two seconds, the screen flashed with a new, brutal notification.
"Logan Mercer Rejects Omega Sub!"
"Nora Bennett's Career Over Before It Begins?"
"Sponsor Apex Nutrition Drops Nora Bennett Following Public Rejection."
The comments section was a literal war zone. People were calling me a liability, a PR nightmare, and an absolute embarrassment to the division. A deep, agonizing yearning for the peace I had felt just twenty minutes ago squeezed my chest, clashing with the cold fear that everything I worked for was dead.
The notifications kept stacking, a steady stream of digital mockery lighting up the screen over and over until the glass felt hot to the touch. I wanted to smash it against the concrete wall, but I forced my hands to stay flat against my padded knees.
"If I break down right now, they win," I said, finally looking up from the floor to meet Harper's eyes. My eyes felt burning and bloodshot, but I forced back every single tear, channeling my grief into pure, unadulterated defiance. "The league officials are already talking outside, aren't they? I can hear the whispering through the vents."
Harper sighed heavily, sitting down right next to me on the bench. She placed a warm, comforting hand on my padded shoulder, her expression softening with the kind of deep, sisterly love we had shared since high school. She checked her glowing tablet screen, her thumb scrolling through the executive chat logs.
"Yeah," Harper admitted quietly. "Damien Cross from the league executive office is standing right outside the door. He's actively trying to 'manage the scandal' before the morning talk shows air. He's already claiming that having a rejected omega on a prime team roster creates a massive locker room distraction. He has zero passion for the fairness of the sport; he only cares about the bottom line."
Before I could even reply to that, the heavy door swung open with a loud, aggressive thud. Damien Cross walked straight into the room. His expensive designer suit was perfectly pressed, and his heavy Alpha aura pushed aggressively into the small room like a physical weight, making my inner wolf snarl in pure, defensive anger.
"Nora," Cross said, his voice clipped and entirely cold. He didn't even bother to look at or greet Harper. "We need to discuss your immediate future. Quickly. Before the press core pushes past security."
"My future is out on the ice, Mr. Cross," I said, my voice tightening up instantly as I stood my ground, staring him down.
"After what happened today? It's incredibly complicated," Cross said. He leaned back casually against a metal equipment table, crossing his arms over his chest. "Logan Mercer is the league's golden boy. The executive board simply cannot have you two playing in the same division, causing a massive media circus every single week. It's terrible for the corporate sponsors who pour millions into our franchises."
"So Logan publicly rejects me, completely disrespecting the bond, and I'm the one who gets punished for it?" I asked, a cold, bitter laugh escaping my lips. "How exactly does that make any sense? Where is the league's integrity?"
"It's not personal, Bennett. It's just about logistics," Cross said smoothly, his tone completely indifferent to the destruction of my life's dream. "But I can offer you a safe spot on Logan's reserve squad. You'll still get paid your full base salary, but you won't play in any of the televised games. It keeps things completely quiet and out of the public eye."
I stood up instantly, my skates clicking loudly and sharply on the rubber floor mats. I towered over the bench, the burning anger inside me finally melting away the icy numbness. "You seriously want me to sit on a dark bench and hide away forever because an arrogant Alpha captain couldn't handle what fate decided? I have too much passion for this game to sit in the dark!"
"It's either that option, or we terminate your league contract by tomorrow morning," Cross said, his dark eyes narrowing down at me, trying to use my own fear against me. "Let's be completely realistic here, Bennett. No other franchise is going to touch you right now. You're completely radioactive to the media."
"Actually, that's not true at all," Harper suddenly interrupted. She stepped forward bravely, her own anger fueling her actions as she slid her digital tablet right across the top of the equipment table. "I literally just received an official alert from the league trade wire. The Frostfang Wolves just submitted a formal transfer request for Nora. Exactly twenty minutes ago."
Cross blinked twice, looking completely surprised as he stared down at the screen. "The Frostfangs? They're the Titans' biggest historic rivals. Why on earth would they do that?"
I looked down at the digital document myself, a sudden spark of hope fighting through the heavy blanket of yearning and pain in my chest. The offer was completely real. It included a full starting salary, a guaranteed spot on their active roster, and absolutely zero media restrictions. My eyes scanned the blue and silver logo at the top of the page. They didn't want me to sit out. They didn't want me to hide in a corner out of fear.
"They actually want me?" I muttered under my breath, my heart skipping a beat.
"They really want to beat Logan this season," Harper corrected me with a small, sharp smile. "And they know you have the exact drive, talent, and passion to help them do it."
Cross frowned deeply, clearly unhappy with this sudden turn of events. He adjusted his tie, his jaw tight as he tried to figure out a way to block the move. "The Frostfangs are a brutal, aggressive team, Bennett. Their daily training is completely grueling, and their pack structure is incredibly traditional. If you fail to perform there, your career is completely done. You'll be thrown to the wolves."
"I don't plan on failing," I said, the words cutting through the tense air of the locker room like a freshly sharpened blade.
I didn't hesitate for a single second. I reached out, grabbed the digital stylus straight from Cross's hand, and signed my name firmly at the bottom of the form. The digital ink glowed a vibrant green, logging the transaction into the official league database.
"I'll take my chances," I said, looking Cross dead in the eye as I handed the stylus back to him. "Make sure you tell Logan I'll see him at the winter classic. And tell him I'm bringing everything I've got."
