Chapter 8 Chapter 8

Ryker

"Look at the fucking gap," I barked, my voice sounding like gravel grinding together. I slammed my fist against the metal desk. The sound was the only thing keeping me from losing my mind. "You gave up the blue line in four seconds. Four. Fucking. Seconds."

Luke sat in the plastic chair, his jaw twitching, eyes locked on the floor. "The ref missed the holding call, Ryker. We were out of position because—"

"I don't give a shit about the ref!" I lunged forward, slamming both palms onto the laptop shell. The plastic cracked under the force. "You handle the body. You lock the shoulder. You don't wait for a whistle like a bitch."

The room went dead silent. Eleven guys staring at their skates.

My blood was still boiling. That guy from earlier. Standing over Amber. Too damn close. It felt like someone was dragging sandpaper across my nerves. I didn't need to know his name to know he didn't belong in my rink or near my mate. 

The heat in my chest was blinding, and every time I tried to focus on the film, that image surged back—him, leaning over her… whatever the hell he was doing, I don't like it. But I can't let that further mess up my mood after we lost the game.

"Shut the fuck up," I roared, the sound hitting the cinderblock walls. "We are talking about our defense. Why this team lookedlike absolute garbage on the road."

Luke cleared his throat, eyes darting to the door. "Ryker, it's past midnight. The film session has been going for three hours. We have morning ice in five."

"You think I give a shit about sleep?" I stood up, my chair flying backward and smashing into the whiteboard. The noise was violent, a sharp crack that silenced the room. "You think the champions sleep after letting five goals past the keeper? You think I’m going to go home and rest while you’re out there playing like you’re on vacation?"

They didn't move. They didn't even look up. They were waiting for me to snap.

I reached down and hooked my fingers under the screen of my laptop.

Slam.

I crushed the device shut, the screen shattering into a spiderweb of black lines under my thumb. The white light died, leaving us in shadow.

"Gear on," I commanded, my voice cold and steady.

Gideon blinked in the dark. "What?"

"You heard me," I stepped out from behind the desk, blocking the only exit. "Get your pads on. We're doing lane drills."

"Ryker, the ice is closed—" Luke started to stand, but I was already moving.

I grabbed the front of his team jersey, yanking him forward until his chest slammed into mine. I could see the terror in his eyes, but it didn't do a damn thing to settle my nerves. "I don't care if the rink is frozen over. I don't care if the coach is sleeping. You are getting on the ice. Now."

I dropped him, shoving him back.

"Two hours," I said, walking toward the door without looking back. "Grueling, high-intensity zone work. If anyone slows down, we stay for four."

I ripped the door open and stepped into the hallway. The fluorescent lights buzzed, mocking me. I marched toward the tunnel, the silence of the arena heavy, but the static in my head was louder. Every step was a countdown.

Pushing through the heavy double doors, the arena was a vast, dark cavern. I didn't wait for the lights before hitting the ice hard, my blades biting into the surface with a satisfying shriek. I needed to move. I needed to outrun the rage. If I stopped, the itch to go back to that rink and tear the place apart would be impossible to ignore.

The first of the team stumbled out of the tunnel. They looked like they were walking to their own executions.

"Faster!" I screamed, stopping at the blue line. "If you’re not at center ice in ten seconds, you’re doing laps until dawn!"

I gripped my stick, my knuckles white. I was the captain. I set the pace. I didn't have time for distractions, and I sure as hell didn't have time for people thinking they could just walk into my world and disrupt it.

I watched them scramble. They were scared, and they should have been. I was going to burn them out. I was going to push them until they couldn't think, until they couldn't breathe, until they were just as miserable as I was.

"Drill one!" I shouted. "Lane transitions. Keep the puck tight. If you lose it, we start over. And trust me, you don't want to start over."

I led them, flying across the ice. The burn in my legs was welcome. The sweat starting to form under my pads was a release.

I was going to keep them here until they were dead on their feet. And then, I was going to handle the rest. I said I would reject the bond but this asshole wouldn't allow it.

What are you talking about? Do you know how we waited for our mate? And you think it makes sense to reject her?

“Why are you obsessed with a mute, wolfless girl? She's not even—”

I see beyond what you can't Ryker… still, you always do your own thing to begin with. So why is it taking you weeks already to utter a rejection line? He smirked and hell I wish I could smack that off his cocky face.

Who's the obsessed one?

“Hey, I'm just worried it might affect her, she's wolfless after all, she doesn't have enough strength to withstand a rejection.”

He scoffed just then, dismissing my excuse. Asshole.