The Hockey Queen Every Alpha Wants

ADELINE POV

“If I see you at Crown Selection tonight, I’ll make sure you never touch the ice again.”  

Sloanne, my stepsister, said that right before locking my bedroom door from the outside.  

I grip the frozen latch and wrench it. Ice cracks around the frame, but the window doesn’t move. 

“Addie, where are you? Your family already got there without you, and the selection is about to start!” Mira’s voice explodes through our link.  

“Trying to get out.”  

“Did Sloanne lock you in?”  

“After destroying everything I own.”  

One skate lace is sliced, the other boot torn, both gloves soaked, and my stick split down the middle. Six months of savings, destroyed in ten minutes. 

Tonight isn’t just another tryout. Crown Selection is my only shot at Crown Training Camp and elite hockey. In Reignfrost, wolves whose miracles suit a sport are trained almost as soon as their powers appear. But my miracle never appeared, and Dad’s already arranged for me to train with Silverglaze administration next week.

If I don’t give him a reason to change his mind tonight, hockey is over for me.

“I still don’t get it,” Mira snaps. “Sloanne already has everything. Why does she care this much if you play?”

“You know why,” I say. 

Mom and Dad were two of the biggest names in Reignfrost. Before Mom died, I grew up assuming I’d follow them onto the ice. Then Dad remarried, Sloanne came into our house, and her miracle appeared early.  

Mine didn’t, but coaches compared us anyway. They said I had Mom’s instincts, and Sloanne hated it. 

Then I got badly injured in practice, and Dad pulled me out. Sloanne finally had the ice to herself. Every time I’ve tried to come back, she’s made sure it hurts. Sometimes that means bruises hidden beneath my clothes. 

“How long are you going to keep quiet about everything she does?” Mira says. “Tell your father what she did.”

“I tried once. You remember how that ended. My stepmother convinced Dad I envied Sloanne, Dad punished me, and Sloanne walked away untouched.”

That’s not the only risk. Sloanne goes after whoever helps me. 

Last winter, Elara, a junior-team girl, gave me a spare key to practice after hours. The next morning, the key was gone from my bag, and Sloanne checked Elara into the boards hard enough to fracture her wrist and knee. Everyone called it an accident. 

That night, I found the key on my pillow.

“Next time, choose someone you don’t care about.”

A week later, Elara was kicked off the junior team.

I never fought her head-on again.

“Fine, I have an idea,” Mira says. “Beat Sloanne so badly tonight that your dad has to look at you instead. No, better, what if Reid scents his mate tonight and it’s you? It’ll be wonderful. Reid’s the future Alpha and Sloanne’s been acting like his future Luna.”

“I don’t care who Reid’s mate is, and I don’t want to beat anyone.” I grab the latch and pull until my fingers ache. Ice cracks around the frame. “I just want to play hockey again.” I brace a foot against the wall and yank. The window bursts open. Cold air hits my face. Three floors down looks absurdly far. 

“I’m going to jump and run now.” I cut the link, sling the bag over my shoulder, and jump.

I shift before I hit the snow. Seconds later, I’m tearing through the streets with the strap clenched between my teeth. Cold cuts across my face as I sprint through the side gate. The full moon turns the snow silver above me. 

My wolf, Rime, hums beneath my skin. She loves running almost as much as I love hockey. 

“About time,” Rime says. “I’m tired of sneaking onto the ice at dawn because you’re afraid your lovely stepsister will catch us.” 

I laugh. “A little longer. If we make it through tonight, we’ll get out of that house and play as much as we want.” 

Crowds thicken as I near Crown Arena. A huge gray wolf barrels past, clipping an older woman hard enough to send her into the snow. He doesn’t slow down. 

“Don’t,” Rime curses. “You’ll miss the selection. Someone else will help her.” 

But no one does. 

“I can’t.” I skid to a stop and shift back.  

Rime groans. “You promised me hockey and freedom. This is neither.” 

I kneel beside her. “Are you okay?”

She’s older than I expected, with sharp cheekbones and pale eyes. “I’ve had better nights.”

I help her onto a bench and drape my coat over her shoulders. 

She looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “You’ll freeze.”

“I’m running to the arena anyway.” 

Her gaze drops to my bag. “You can’t compete with gear like that. Who did this?” 

“It was an accident,” I lie. 

She opens her leather bag and takes out old skates and gloves. “Use these. I don’t have a stick, but there’s one at the rink.” 

I blink at the worn but solid gear. Warmth rushes through my chest. 

“I—thank you. I’ll return them.” 

She nods and waves me off. “Go. You’re late.” 

Mira’s voice slams through the link. “Addie! They started! Anyone who’s late will fail!”

“I’m almost there!” I stuff the borrowed gear into my bag and shift. 

Crown Arena rises beneath the full moon. Players crowd the entrance as coaches shout and officials check names. I shift back, panting, and shove through the entrance as the sound system crackles overhead. 

“Adeline Monroe.” 

No one answers. 

“She’s not here. It was a mistake,” Sloanne says. 

“Here!” I push past the players and stumble into view, snow in my hair and my bag crooked over one shoulder. “I’m here!” 

Sloanne turns, glaring at me like she wants me dead. 

My eyes find Dad near the boards. His expression hardens when he sees me. 

I don’t care. 

Even if I have to die tonight, I’m playing hockey first. 

“Look at her equipment!” someone calls out.

Everyone around the rink laughs at me.  

“Where did she get those skates, a museum?” another player says.

An official says, “You need a usable stick to enter the selection.”

“I was told there was a spare stick here,” I say. 

“There is,” someone laughs. “Been sitting there for years. Just pull it out.” 

I follow his gaze across the rink to the black stick lodged in the moonstone beneath Reignfrost’s royal crest. My stomach sinks. 

The Crown Stick. Reignfrost’s first King set it there after the first Crown Match. Generations of champions have failed to pull it free. 

Sloanne laughs. “Go ahead, Addie. Humiliate yourself.” 

I don’t know which is worse—humiliating myself or being disqualified because I don’t have a stick. 

I step onto the ice.

Moonlight spills through the arena’s high windows above me. 

Moon Goddess, I’m not asking you to choose me. Just this once, please let me love something without being punished for it.    

The moment my hand closes around the stick, something hot explodes beneath my skin. 

I tighten my grip and pull. 

The moonstone cracks and the stick comes free.

The laughter dies. 

Across the rink, Reid goes still. His eyes lock on mine.

Rime surges forward so violently I nearly lose my grip. 

“Mate!”