Stealing My Best Friend’s Mate

8- Sloane Came

Xavier’s POV

The locker room smells like sharpened steel, sweat, and fresh tape- exactly the way it always does before a playoff game.

Nobody is laughing this morning. Not even Mason, who is the joker of the team.

The usual music blasting from Liam's speaker has been replaced with the dull scrape of skate blades across the concrete floor as everyone finishes dressing in silence.

Conference Quarterfinal.

Win this, and we're two victories away from the conference title.

Lose and the season gets a whole lot shorter.

Coach Peters paces slowly in front of the whiteboard, arms folded across his chest. "Stone Creek isn't here because they got lucky."

Nobody answers.

"They're fast." He taps the marker against the board. "They're physical." Another tap. "And they're desperate." He looks directly at me. "So are we."

A low murmur of agreement fills the room.

Peters nods once. "They'll come after our first line."

His marker circles three names. Bishop. Rhodes. Ellis. "They'll try to separate you."

Next to me, as always, Kai leans forward on the bench. "They won't."

Coach Peters' eyes narrow. "Confidence wins games." A beat passes as he gives his usual speech. "Overconfidence loses them."

Liam snorts from across the room. "Guess that speech was aimed at Rhodes."

"Shut up," Kai mutters, but his head drops into his palms.

"Make me."

Mason throws a roll of athletic tape at Liam's helmet. "Save it for the ice."

The room chuckles, just enough to loosen the tension, and even Coach Peters smirks despite himself. "Now that's the team I recognize." He claps once. "Defense."

Mason straightens immediately, his smile wiped clean from his face.

"Cole, Carter-."

The quiet defensemen nod.

"You two own the blue line."

"Yes, Coach," both Ethan and Mason agreed in unison.

"No stupid penalties."

Mason raises both hands innocently. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

The room erupts, and once again even Coach Peters laughs, then he points directly at him. "I'd like you to prove me wrong."

Another round of laughter rolls through the locker room, and Mason bows dramatically. "I shall endeavor to disappoint absolutely nobody."

Liam groans. "You're such a theater kid."

"I have layers."

"You have problems, onion boy," is Liam’s quick comeback, and the easy banter settles everyone's nerves.

Mine included.

Until Moros stirs. I’m almost always restless now- the now familiar ache settles beneath my ribs, a quiet, mournful pull, and I clench my jaw. Moros has been like this ever since the accident.

Ever since we saved Sloane from the glass. For the briefest heartbeat, we'd felt something. Her wolf. Fragile and hidden beneath layers of silence. Then gone in the next three seconds.

Like smoke slipping through my fingers.

Every morning since then, Moros wakes up howling inside my head. ‘Find her.’

She is there; we know she is.

Sloane's wolf isn't gone. She's simply... weak. The accident had been brutal enough for any wolf, but for an omega, whose wolf had never been particularly strong, it was devastating. Goddess, I hate that she's an omega. It's the lowest rank in our world, and although no wolf deserves to be looked down on because of it, reality is cruel.

Omegas are smaller, physically weaker, and many never shift as often as the rest of us because their wolves simply don't possess the same strength. Sloane barely ever shifted and skipped many pack runs before the accident, and that alone speaks volumes.

The thought knots something painfully tight inside my chest. Part of it is anger at the unfairness of it all, but the rest... the rest is far harder to ignore. It aches for her. My wolf and I ache for them both. She endured the accident, the endless pain, the slow recovery, and still managed to smile through it.

Pack doctors always remind us that trauma can force a wolf into retreat. Sometimes they hide for days. Sometimes weeks. In severe cases, months... even years. For an omega whose wolf is already so fragile, the risk is even greater.

Yet that explanation doesn't satisfy Moros. Because he felt her wolf.

It only lasted a heartbeat when the glass exploded, and danger barreled toward her. Almost as though her wolf instinctively surged forward to shield her, only to collapse beneath the strain a second later. If that's what happened... if her wolf exhausted herself simply trying to keep Sloane alive...

Then what in the Goddess's name is Sloane carrying alone?

Did the accident that took her parents' lives come back to haunt Sloane with her own near-death one? Did she relive that shock on her own? Then the ice rink incident, and all the while thinking I was her boyfriend. I’m certain her body is telling her I am not the one- she would have felt strange, right?

Kai and I are such d***s for doing this to her. She’ll hate me when she recovers… something in me also wishes she never does- Goddess, why am I this selfish? Of course not- I wish her a speedy recovery. Right?

I remember her battered body that took nearly a full week to heal when any ordinary werewolf would've been back on their feet within hours. Watching her struggle through something the rest of us would scarcely remember felt unbearably unjust.

Coach Peters' whistle cuts through my thoughts. "Bishop."

I blink. "Sir?"

"You with us?"

"Always."

His eyes linger on me for another second before he nods. "Good. Because if you're not, Stone Creek will eat you alive."

__

The arena is already packed by the time warm-ups begin with blue and silver banners rippling across the stands. Students stomp their feet against the bleachers and the pep band blasts through the speakers.

Someone starts chanting. "LET'S GO WOLVES!"

Within seconds, the entire student section joins in. "LET'S GO WOLVES!"

That’s the thing with us: we welcome the entire arena. No matter the team, we cheer for both at the start.

Across the ice, Stone Creek skates onto the rink wearing black and crimson jerseys. Their captain, Logan Mercer, is a big, mean looker and one of the hardest hitters in the conference.

He spots me immediately and raises his stick in a silent challenge, and I answer with a nod. Nothing more. We lost to them a few times in high school, and they also lost to us as well, but they had more wins than us.

Officials begin checking nets and pucks scatter across the ice during warm-ups.

Kai skates beside me. "You good?"

"Yeah."

"You've been quiet."

Right. How do I tell my best friend that his girl is all I can think of and that I feel like slugging him for making such a fool of her? I can’t. "So have you."

He smirks. "Guess we're both nervous."

"Nervous isn't the word."

__

A whistle sounds, signaling the end of warm-ups. As we're skating toward the bench, the student section suddenly erupts.

"Looooook!" Some point toward the entrance, and my eyes follow instinctively.

Sloane.

Wrapped in a black hoodie open jacket, her blue work T-shirt beneath and her employee badge clipped to her jeans. She'd come straight from work after switching shifts just to make it. My heart swells at that because Kai often told me Sloane never cared much about the games because she had to work.

But I did request her- if she could come watch me play. And her quick comeback was, “Did I usually? Because I don’t get that feeling.”

I had felt a little embarrassed at that, but still I insisted. “Well, you don't, but it would mean a lot to me if you did.”

She’d watched me and simply said, “If someone shifts with me, then yeah. Sure, whatever.” And that was that.

This was so unexpected that bewilderment collided with an almost boyish excitement, leaving me staring at her far longer than I should. Unable to tear my eyes away, I watch as she pauses uncertainly near the student section, looking for somewhere to sit, and my chest loosens before I can stop it. Moros surges so suddenly that I nearly miss a stride.

‘Mine.’

This time I did not correct him because I am also hopeful. I know it’s impossible because she is already moon-graced, and Kai’s mate. Kai, my best friend, I remind myself, as I gaze at her, feeling the way Moros floods us internally with-

"Oh, Sloane actually came." Beside me, Kai follows my gaze toward the stands, a faint smile crossing his face. He sounds surprised, and honestly, so am I. Because in all the years I've known them, she never really came to watch him play. Sure, she did come to a few...

But then Kai annoys me and calls out to her, waving. Sloan turns and watches us and waves back, and I feel a little heartbroken on the inside, because she’s waving at him.

‘Us.’

‘Not us, Moros, Kai called to her, so she responded to-’

‘Sloane is waving at her boyfriend, dummy.’ He growls out at me, and I sense the irritation there.

Right. My hand covers my chest where it hurts the most, and I force myself to look away before anyone notices, bending my head slightly.

‘Which is us, not Kai.’