Pucking The Alpha’s Daughter

The New Wolf In Town

Madison

Ten Years Later…

The first thing you learn about heartbreak is that time doesn’t erase anything.

People love to say it does. They say give it a few years; you’ll forget, you’ll move on.

Ten years later, I can confirm that’s complete bullshit.

Time doesn’t erase anything. It doesn’t wipe away memories or dull the moments that carved themselves deepest into your chest. It just teaches you how to live around the damage. How to build a life that functions normally even with the cracks still running through it.

I push open the glass door of the café and step into the early Texas heat, the morning sun is already stretching across the Dallas skyline. The city hums with the bustling weekday energy I’ve come to love.

Cars slide through intersections, construction echoes somewhere down the block and the steady pulse of people heading toward offices and meetings remind me how life never seems to slow down.

My heels click against the pavement as I cross the street, coffee in one hand and my bag slung over my shoulder.

It’s been ten years since Jay Mercer walked out of my life without a second thought.

Him. Not me.

I stayed; I stayed when the pack nearly exploded the next morning, when the house filled with shouting and slammed doors and the kind of rage that rattled through the walls like a tornado. I stayed when Nash flipped the kitchen table and punched holes through drywall trying to figure out where his best friend disappeared to. I stayed when the entire territory spent months whispering about why the future beta vanished overnight.

Jay Mercer ran. He left before sunrise with no goodbye, explanation or apology. I guess I wasn’t worth any of those.

I sip my coffee as I approach the glass tower where my office sits twelve floors above downtown Dallas. The bitterness of the coffee grounds me, pulling me back to the present.

Which is fine. Really.

While Jay Mercer was busy disappearing, I was busy building myself a life. A real one. One that didn’t revolve around the pack house or territory politics or the quiet expectations that come with being the Alpha’s daughter.

Maybe he did me a favor in the end.

I push through the revolving doors and step into the cool marble lobby, the sudden blast of air conditioning a welcome contrast to the heat outside. My patent leather heels echo softly across the polished floor as I make my way toward the elevators. The receptionist looks up from behind her desk and offers a familiar smile, already used to the early hours I keep.

“Mornin’, Ms. Walker.”

“Morning,” I say sweetly.

The elevator doors slide open and I step inside, pressing the button for the twelfth floor. As the doors close and the elevator begins to move, I glance at my reflection in the mirrored wall. Tailored blazer, sleek black heels, hair pulled back just enough to look effortless without actually being effortless.

The elevator doors slide open and I step inside. Twelve floors up sits Walker & Hayes Consulting, the company I built from scratch five years ago. Sports contracts, brand negotiations, image management. The good stuff.

Turns out growing up around professional hockey players teaches you a few things about how their careers work.

And more importantly, how badly most of them need someone smarter handling their money.

My brother calls it my “empire” while I call it, a practical job.

My assistant, Claire, looks up from her desk. Her dark hair is pulled into a loose knot while she flips through a stack of documents. “You’re early.”

“Am I ever late?”

She snorts softly. “Fair.”

I step past her toward my office, glass walls overlooking the skyline. Dallas stretches out in every direction, steel towers and highways cutting through the Texas heat.

It’s a good view. A powerful one. It’s exactly the kind of space I promised myself I’d earn when I decided I was done being known as the Alpha’s daughter.

Now half the league knows my name which is exactly how I like it.

I push my office door open and freeze. A massive arrangement of roses sits in the center of my desk. The scent alone is strong enough to fill the entire room. Deep crimson roses spill out of a crystal vase, the petals rich and velvety under the morning sunlight pouring through the windows. At least a hundred stems crowd together. They’re lush and dramatic, like someone emptied an entire florist shop just to make a point.

Claire leans against the doorframe behind me with a knowing smirk spread across her face.

“Before you say anything,” she says, “I tried to send them back.”

I set my bag down slowly. “What was the reason today?”

“Tuesday.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. I already know who it’s from. Adrian Vale, the Alpha of the Silvercrest Pack. He’s a serial romantic, a territorial powerhouse and apparently a man who believes Tuesday deserves a hundred roses.

There’s a small card tucked between the stems. Claire reads it out loud before I can even reach for it. “Just because the world looks better when you’re smiling.”

I heave a sigh. “He’s exhausting.”

Claire folds her arms. “You say that like you hate it.”

I stare down at the roses. The truth is… I don’t hate it. Not really, at least.

Adrian has been courting me for almost a year now which sounds archaic until you remember that wolves do things a little differently. In pack culture, relationships are taken seriously. Especially when the Alpha’s daughter is involved.

Adrian Vale courts the way wolves used to centuries ago. He’s patient, deliberate and impossible to ignore. There’s no pressure or demands with him. Just quiet perseverance and plenty of adoration.

I reach out and brush my fingertips over one of the petals. Each stem is so perfect, you’d think they were fake.

Of course it is, a small smirk tugging from the corner of my lips. Adrian Vale doesn’t do anything halfway.

He’s everything a future Alpha mate should be. Strong, respected, steady. The kind of man who builds alliances instead of burning bridges.

The kind of man who stays.

Which is exactly why my father likes him.

And Nash? Nash tolerates him. It’s basically a glowing endorsement coming from my brother.

Still… A hundred roses?

“Tell the delivery guy we’re running out of space,” I mutter.

Claire raises an eyebrow. “You said that last week.”

“Then tell Adrian that.”

“Not my job.” She disappears down the hallway before I can argue.

I set my coffee down and flip open my laptop watching emails flood the screen immediately. Three new contract negotiations, one endorsement dispute and a message from a rookie agent begging for help restructuring a deal his client signed with a sportswear company.

Just another day in the office.

My phone vibrates beside my keyboard, I glance down thinking it’s Adrian calling to see if I got his ridiculous delivery.

Instead, the screen lights up with Nash’s name sprawlled across. I frown slightly and my eyes narrow.

My brother doesn’t usually call before noon unless something is wrong. Or… someone pissed him off. Arguably, it does happen often.

I answer in the perkiest voice I can muster. “Morning, Alpha.”

A low growl rumbles through the phone. “That’s not funny.”

Yup, definitely pissed off.

I lean back in my chair, twirling a pen between my fingers. “What happened?”

There’s a long pause and for a second, I wonder how serious it really is.

“He’s coming to Dallas.”

My stomach drops and my pulse drums loudly in my ears. I already know who he means.

Still, I make him say it to make it feel real. “Who?”

Another pause. “Jay Mercer.”

The air leaves my lungs. For a moment the office feels tight and restricting. Ten years of silence and somehow, Jay Mercer is back in my life.

I swallow slowly. “Why?”

“Trade.”

I hum, of course. The NHL doesn’t care about pack history or broken friendships.

“When?” I ask quietly.

“Two days.”

Two days until the man who disappeared from my life walks back into the same city. My chest tightens and Nash exhales sharply.

“That son of a b***h,” Nash mutters.

“Nash -”

“He vanished for ten years,” he growls. “Now the league just drops him on my team and I don’t get a say over it?”

I stare out across the skyline, my thoughts are a tangled mess because the truth is… I spent years convincing myself Jay Mercer no

longer mattered. That the girl he left behind was someone I outgrew.

But hearing his name again, it feels like someone just broke down the door I’ve worked very hard to keep closed.

My brother’s voice lowers slightly. “You okay?”

The question catches me off guard. Nash doesn’t ask questions like that often. He’s always been more comfortable breaking things than talking about feelings. Preferably with his fists.

“I’m fine,” I say, which isn’t technically a lie.

I’ve had ten years to get used to Jay Mercer being gone.

Nash huffs. “Good.”

“He reports in two days,” Nash continues. “First team practice Friday.”

My heart beats a little faster.

“If he thinks he’s walking into my locker room like nothing happened -”

“Nash.”

He exhales sharply. “I know.” The tension hangs between us for a moment. Then he mutters something under his breath and ends the call.

I lower the phone slowly.

The name echoes through my mind. For ten years I’ve convinced myself I moved on. I built a career, a life. Built a version of myself that doesn’t revolve around the boy who disappeared after one night.

My body betrays me. My pulse thumps faster, my chest feels tighter as a thousand memories I buried a decade ago are suddenly clawing their way back to the surface.

The moonlight in my father’s office with Jay’s hands on my waist. The way he said my name like it mattered.

I close my eyes briefly.

This is ridiculous.

I’m not eighteen anymore. I’m not the girl who fell in love with my brother’s best friend.

I’m Madison Walker. Business owner, contract negotiator; the woman half the NHL calls when their careers are on the line. I don’t care if he’s in my city or on the other end of the planet.

My assistant knocks on the glass door, dragging me out of my evident spiral. “Your ten o’clock just arrived.”

I glance at the clock. “Already? Send him in.”

Claire opens the door and a tall defenseman from one of the minor league teams steps inside.

I already know the file. Contract dispute. Two-year extension. Exactly the kind of thing I’m good at solving.

But as he sits down across from my desk and starts explaining the situation, my mind drifts.

Back to the man that stole my heart with a single glance.