Frost Bitten Hearts: The Packless Girl and the Alpha's Secret

Chapter 3: The Devil's Rink

WREN

I didn't move.

Not because I was brave. My legs had simply stopped taking orders from my brain. Every survival instinct I had was screaming at me to grab my bag and run, but my body had decided this was the moment to betray me.

Kael stood in the doorway with his helmet tucked under one arm and his dark hair damp against his forehead. His practice jersey was half unzipped, and I could see the rise and fall of his chest. He wasn't out of breath from practice. Wolves like him didn't get winded. His breathing was controlled, measured, the way a predator breathes when it's deciding whether something is worth chasing.

"I said out." His voice was low. Not loud. Kael Ashford never needed to be loud.

"Coach Briggs assigned me here." I held up the inventory binder again. It was becoming my emotional support object at this point. "Work study placement. I have an email."

"I don't care about an email."

"Well, the administration does. And since they're the ones paying me, I think their opinion matters more."

The silence that followed was so heavy I could feel it pressing against my chest. Behind Kael, I could see two other players lingering in the hallway. One was Tyson, who leaned against the wall with his arms crossed and the faintest smirk on his face. The other was a guy I recognized as Jesse Cole, the starting goalie. He was tall, lean, and had the kind of sandy blonde hair that always looked like he had just rolled out of bed. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes moved between Kael and me like he was watching a match he had already placed a bet on.

Kael stepped inside. The room felt smaller immediately. He set his helmet on the shelf without looking and walked toward the desk where I sat. Each step was deliberate. He stopped about three feet from me and looked down.

I am not short. Five seven is perfectly average. But sitting down while a six foot four Alpha wolf stood over me made average feel microscopic.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"You already know my name."

His jaw tightened. "I'm asking you to say it."

"Wren Calloway."

He studied me for a moment. Those silver eyes moved across my face the way someone reads a page they aren't sure is worth finishing. Then he reached past me and grabbed something from the shelf behind the desk. A roll of black tape. His arm came so close to my shoulder that I could feel the cold radiating off his skin from the ice.

He smelled like winter. Not cologne. Not body wash. Actual winter. Pine and frozen air and something darker underneath that I couldn't name.

He pulled back with the tape and looked at me one more time.

"Stay out of the way."

Then he walked out. Tyson gave me a look that clearly said "I warned you" before following him. Jesse lingered for a second longer. He tilted his head slightly, almost like he was confused, and then disappeared after the others.

I let out a breath I didn't realize I had been holding. My hands were trembling again, and I pressed them flat against the binder to make them stop.

Stay out of the way. I could do that. I had been doing that my entire life.

I worked for another hour without interruption. The sounds of practice had ended, replaced by the echo of showers running and lockers slamming somewhere deeper in the building. I finished the first binder and started on the second, logging missing items and damaged equipment into the spreadsheet on the ancient computer.

At five thirty, I packed up and headed for the exit. The hallway was mostly empty now. The overhead lights had dimmed to their evening setting, casting everything in a pale blue glow that made the rink photos on the walls look ghostly.

I was almost to the lobby when I heard it.

A crash. Then a voice. Then another crash, louder than the first.

It came from behind a door marked "Film Room. Authorized Personnel Only."

I should have kept walking. Every logical thought in my brain said to keep moving, get to the lobby, get to my car, go home. Eat ramen. Watch something mindless on my laptop. Forget this building existed until tomorrow.

But the voice I heard was young. Not a player's voice. A kid's voice. High and scared and trying not to cry.

I pushed the door open.

The film room was dark except for the glow of a large screen mounted on the far wall. Game footage played on loop. Rows of chairs filled the space like a small theater. And in the back corner, crouched between two overturned chairs, was a little boy.

He couldn't have been more than four or five. Dark hair, pale skin, huge eyes that caught the light from the screen and reflected it back silver.

Silver.

He looked up at me, and I saw tears streaking down his face. His bottom lip was trembling, and he clutched a stuffed wolf toy against his chest so tightly his knuckles were white.

"Hey," I said softly, crouching down slowly so I wouldn't scare him. "Are you okay?"

He shook his head fast.

"Are you hurt?"

Another head shake. Then a tiny voice. "I can't find my dad."

My chest squeezed. I knew that feeling. The panic of being small and alone and not knowing if anyone was coming back for you. I had lived inside that feeling for most of my childhood.

"Okay. That's okay. We're going to find him." I kept my voice steady and calm. "What's your name?"

"Cade." He sniffled and wiped his nose with the back of his hand.

"Hi, Cade. I'm Wren. Can you tell me who your dad is?"

He opened his mouth to answer, but the door behind me slammed open so hard it cracked against the wall. Light flooded the room, and a shadow filled the doorway.

I didn't need to turn around. The temperature told me everything.

"Get away from him." Kael's voice was barely human. It was raw, guttural, vibrating with something primal that made every hair on my body stand up.

I turned slowly, my hands raised where he could see them. His eyes weren't silver anymore.

They were gold.

And they were locked on me like I was the most dangerous thing in the room.

"She's helping me, Daddy," Cade whispered from behind me.

The gold in Kael's eyes flickered. His fists were clenched at his sides, and I could see the tendons in his neck straining. He was holding something back. Something big.

Then footsteps echoed behind him, and a woman appeared at his shoulder. Tall, blonde, and stunning in the effortless way that only came from money and good genetics. She wore a white cashmere coat and red lipstick, and she looked at me like I was dirt tracked in on someone's shoe.

"Who is this?" she asked Kael, her hand sliding possessively onto his arm.

Cade scrambled out from behind me and ran to his father. Kael scooped him up with one arm, his golden eyes still fixed on me. But the woman stepped forward, positioning herself between us like a wall.

"I asked you a question," she said to me. Then she turned to Kael. "Why is there a random girl alone with our son?"

Our son.

I looked at Kael. He looked at me. And something in his expression shifted. Not softer. Not warmer. But conflicted in a way I had never seen on his face before.

"Leave," he said quietly. But this time, I couldn't tell if he was talking to me or to her.