My stepbrother, the hockey alpha

Lena's POV My mom’s hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles pale. She had that look she always wore when she wanted me to believe everything was fine. “Almost there,” she said, glancing at me with a too-bright smile. I sank lower in my seat, tugging my hoodie strings tighter. The pines on either side of the road stretched up like, endless and dark, their branches weighed down with snow. “This is… really far from town,” I muttered. Mom exhaled, the windshield fogging. “Damien likes privacy. You’ll understand when you see the house.” Damien. My new stepdad. The man Mom had married after only six months of knowing him. The man I’d barely spoken to twice. I rested my cheek against the cold window and said nothing. The road curved sharply, and then, out of nowhere, a pair of black iron gates rose from the snow. Twisting designs curled across their surface. They swung open without Mom touching a button. A shiver slipped down my spine. The car rolled forward, crunching onto a long driveway that cut through the trees. At the end of it, Damien’s mansion appeared. It wasn’t some old haunted castle, though it looked like it should’ve been. Instead, the house was all glass, and steel, modern, sleek, cold. Smoke drifted lazily from a chimney, but somehow that didn’t make it warmer. Mom’s face lit up. “Isn’t it beautiful?” I stared at the huge windows glowing against the snow. “Sure,” I said flatly. She parked in front of the wide steps, turned off the car, and reached for my hand. “Lena. Please. Try to give this a chance.” I pulled away gently. “I’ll try.” The front door opened before either of us could knock. Damien Thorne stepped out. He was taller than I remembered, with dark hair streaked silver at the temples, and eyes so sharp it felt like he was reading every thought I had. He didn’t smile at first, but when he did, it was sudden, warm, practiced. “Rachel,” he said, his deep voice carrying in the cold air. He kissed her cheek, lingering like they were the only two people in the world. Then his gaze landed on me. “Lena.” I shifted uncomfortably. “Hi.” “Welcome home,” he said, gesturing toward the open door. The word home stuck in my throat as I followed them inside. The house was warm. The ceilings arched high, shadows pooling in the corners. Every step echoed on the polished stone floors. “Your rooms are upstairs,” Damien explained as he led us through a wide hallway lined with portraits. “Dinner will be ready soon. I hope you’ll both feel comfortable here.” I nodded, though my stomach tightened at the way his eyes lingered on me, like he was weighing me, measuring. Then I saw him. A boy leaning against the staircase railing, arms crossed. Jax. My new stepbrother. He wore a Blackridge Academy hoodie, hood down, his black hair falling across his forehead in messy strands. His jaw was sharp, his eyes a pale gray-blue that cut through me when they landed on my face. “So,” he said, his voice low and unimpressed. “You’re the new sister.” The way he said sister made it sound like an insult. “Guess so,” I said, forcing a shrug. His eyes narrowed. Then, without another word, he turned and headed up the stairs, shoulders tense. The silence he left behind was worse than anything he could’ve said. Damien cleared his throat. “Jax will come around. He’s… protective of his space.” I wasn’t sure that was the word for it. **************************** The next morning, Mom drove me to Blackridge Academy. Students in thick coats streamed past, laughing, chatting, shoving each other. Normal. Almost. Inside, I kept my head down as I found my homeroom. The teacher introduced me politely....“Lena Morgan, let’s make her feel welcome”....but no one did. Whispers followed me anyway. “That’s Damien’s kid.” “She’s living at the Thorne house.” “She’s Jax’s...” The words cut off when I glanced back. Everyone stared, then quickly looked away. I sat at the back, pulled out my sketchbook, and let my pencil move. When I finally looked down, I froze. I’d drawn a wolf. Snow dripping from its fur. It's eyes glowing gold. I hadn’t even realized my hand was moving. A chill prickled across my skin. Lunch was worse. I sat alone, poking at fries, pretending not to notice the stares. Then someone dropped their tray across from mine and sat down without asking. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with dark curls that fell into his eyes. His smile was sharp, like he knew something I didn’t. “Cassian,” he said simply, like I should already know him. “Lena.” He bit into an apple. “So, rumor is Jax told everyone to stay away from you.” My chest tightened. “That’s… comforting.” Cassian grinned. “Don’t take it personal. He hates everyone.” “And you don’t?” “I’m picky.” He winked. “Besides, I like breaking rules.” Despite myself, I smiled. “Careful,” he added lightly. “People might think you’re enjoying it here.” “Trust me,” I said. “I’m not.” His grin faded, just a little. He leaned closer. “Then here’s a tip: don’t wander at night. Not here.” “Why not?” He tossed the apple core onto his tray. “Because things look different in the snow.” ***************************** That night, back at the mansion, I sat by my window with my sketchbook open. I couldn’t stop thinking about Jax’s glare, Cassian’s warning, the wolf I’d drawn without meaning to. The forest outside was still, the moonlight making the snow glow faintly. And then, I heard a sound. A heavy thud against the side of the house. My chest went tight. I pulled back the curtain. Nothing. Just snow. But then, in the trees, something moved. Something big. On four legs. My heart slammed in my chest. I let the curtain fall back, breath caught in my throat and then, footsteps. In the hallway. A knock at my door startled me. I froze. “Lena.” It was Jax. I swallowed hard. “Yeah?” A pause. His voice came low and sharp. “Don’t look out the window at night. Ever.” His footsteps retreated. I stood there, my heart racing and I realized, whatever this place was, whatever secret it held, I wasn’t supposed to see it.