Chapter 2 My Invisible Fated Mate

REID POV

Pulling the Crown Stick is a ridiculous idea. Actually succeeding is supposed to be impossible.

Adeline does both. Champions twice her size, with miracles strong enough to shake an entire rink, have failed to move that stick even an inch.

Then her scent reaches me. White tea and winter pear.

My wolf, Sverre, slams into the front of my mind. “Mate!”

My fingers curl into my palms.

It’s fucking impossible.

I turned nineteen this week, old enough to scent my mate. I just never expected it to be Adeline. She doesn’t turn nineteen until next Saturday.

A burst of voices tears through the old group link Sloanne still shares with the rest of us.

“Is that really Adeline?” Kellan links. “Did she actually fucking pull the fucking Crown Stick out?”

“I saw it, and I still don’t believe it,” Asher replies.

“She doesn’t even have a miracle,” Nolan adds.

“I thought nobody could move that thing,” Beckett says.

“Damn, Sloanne,” Asher says. “You’ve been hiding a pretty interesting stepsister.”

Across the rink, she stares at the Crown Stick like she’s as shocked as everyone else, with snow melting in her hair, her cheeks flushed from the cold, and battered skates on her feet.

The girl I remember had scraped knees and messy hair and glared whenever I stole her puck, but somehow, while I wasn’t paying attention, she grew into a beautiful woman. Not Sloanne’s polished kind of beauty. Adeline is quieter than that, until you actually look at her.

We grew up together. She used to follow us everywhere until Sloanne joined our circle and Adeline slowly stopped showing up. Eventually, I assumed she preferred being alone.

“Since when does she play hockey?” Asher asks.

“She always has,” I answer before I can stop myself.

“How do you know?” Kellan asks.

I don’t answer.

The last time I saw Adeline was a few months ago. I was coming back from an early patrol when I found her at the old outdoor rink near Silverglaze territory.  It was barely dawn, cold enough that nobody sane should've been outside.

Adeline was there alone, without an audience, a coach, or proper equipment—just an old stick, a handful of pucks, and her.

She moved differently when nobody was watching—faster, lighter, completely focused. Every missed shot sent her chasing the puck down to try again.

I almost called out. Then she glanced toward the trees like she was afraid someone might see her, and I kept walking.

What stayed with me was the equipment. Adeline is the daughter of two hockey legends. She should’ve had access to better gear than half the players in Reignfrost, yet everything she used looked secondhand and worn nearly to death.

I thought it was strange. I just never asked why.

Looking at the worn skates on her feet now, I wish I had.

Addie.

I reach for her through a direct link.

She shuts me out before I can say a word.

I blink. Seriously? Did she feel the bond and shut me out anyway?

“She rejected us,” Sverre says, deeply offended. “Go to her.”

I’m not chasing her across the rink.

“Why not?”

“Reid?” Kellan calls me.

I ignore the voice in the group link. My eyes stay on Adeline.

“Reid,” Asher tries again. “Why are you staring at her?”

“Wait.” Nolan sounds suspicious. “Don’t tell me Adeline is your mate.”

“Oh, shit,” Beckett mutters. “If she is, Adeline’s dead. Sloanne’s going to lose her fucking mind.”

“Hell of a birthday, Sloanne,” Beckett adds. “First day you can scent your mate, and Reid decides to start acting suspicious.”

Everyone in Silverglaze has treated Sloanne like she belongs beside me. Now I have to figure out how to tell her my fated mate is her stepsister without making her lose her mind.

Before I can answer, the main doors open.

“His Majesty the King and Crown Prince Nicholas Reignfrost,” an official announces.

Everyone straightens almost at once.

The King enters first, Prince Nicholas beside him, followed by several royal guards. Nicholas is halfway across the entrance when his eyes land on the black stick in Adeline’s hands.

He stops.

That gets my attention.

I’ve played against Nicholas enough times to know almost nothing surprises him. A bad call, a last-second goal, an entire game falling apart around him—his expression barely changes.

Now he’s staring at Adeline.

The King follows his gaze to the cracked moonstone. “Who pulled it?” he asks.

My father, Alpha of Silverglaze, steps forward. “Adeline Monroe of Silverglaze Pack, Your Majesty.”

The King looks at her properly for the first time. “Monroe?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

One of the officials checks the registration sheet. “She has no registered miracle.”

Nicholas’s attention sharpens.

“No miracle?” he repeats.

“He’s looking at our mate,” Sverre growls in jealousy.

“He’s looking at the Crown Stick,” I say.

Nicholas barely pays attention to anyone outside a game, much less someone he’s never met.

Except his eyes never return to the Crown Stick. They stay on Adeline.

“I don’t like him looking at our mate!” Sverre growls again.

Neither do I.

The King nods toward the stick. “Let her use it. The selection will continue.”

Sloanne stiffens.

An official blows his whistle. “Players, onto the ice!”

The crowd reluctantly settles, though nobody really stops looking at Adeline.

I step onto the ice with Kellan, Asher, Nolan, and Beckett as the other players begin moving toward center ice. I should follow them. Instead, I angle toward Adeline.

The closer I get, the stronger her scent becomes. My pulse kicks hard against my ribs, and Sverre presses forward beneath my skin.

Fuck. It’s real.

Adeline notices me coming and stiffens.

I stop beside her just long enough to keep my voice low.

“Don’t leave after the selection,” I say, suddenly realizing I can’t remember the last time we actually spoke.

Her brows pull together. “What?”

“We need to talk.”

I skate away before Sverre can convince me to do something much worse than talk.

I glance toward where Sloanne stands with the other players. She’s watching us. Her face is calm, but her eyes aren’t. They move from me to Adeline and Sverre growls warily in my head.

Oh, fuck.

She starts toward me before I can look away. “I need to tell you something.” Her eyes flick toward Adeline, then return to mine. “I scented my mate.”

Sverre doesn’t react. Neither does anything inside me.

Sloanne reaches for my arm. “It’s you.”