Page 5 of Puck & Her Blades

Heroes come in all shapes and sizes, and mine is a small but athletic Omega with silver eyes and chronic pain.

Who needs the Alpha Superman, when you can have Omegas on Ice?

Lopez’s long nails bite into my arm, as she wrenches me away from the SUV and shoves me toward the large building behind her. “Come on, inside now.”

I stare up in shock at the arena, which rises above me out of the dark.

My breath stutters. “Blade Arena.”

Lopez struts toward a metal door, clicking her fingers at me like I’m dog. “Of course you’d recognize it. Wasn’t this where the World Figure Skating Championships were held, where you made such an embarrassing show of yourself? What on earth were your parents thinking, putting you in such a terrible position in the first place? It was cruelty, really. It’s abusive to expect an Omega to be able to skate. Your parents should have been sent for retraining at the Alpha Center.”

I gasp, horrified.

Then I rush over the icy pavement, struggling not to slip. “Fuck, tell me that they weren’t. It was my fault. I take full responsibility. I made the mistake on the ice. I took the risk by trying to land that backflip on one blade. I was pushing the whole routine because I wanted to win gold so fucking badly. I wanted to impress them and to make them, along with every Omega in the audience, proud. I just needed them to know that they could stand tall. Mom and Dad shouldn’t be punished for that. Please…”

“I said should.” Lopez sniffs. “Omegas are so emotional. Perhaps, you’ve learned a lesson from your mistake. Omegas need to remember their limitations and not push for more.”

I narrow my eyes.

Fuck that.

I did make a mistake that night. It wrecked my life and I take ownership for it.

I lost my shot at winning the biggest championship, of proving that Omegas deserved to be on the ice, my family, pack, home…everything.

But I’ll never stop trying.

If you fall, then you get back up.

I swallow as I stare at the arena.

I swore to myself that I’d never return to this building but I have no choice now.

Who’s my new pack? Do they work for one of the teams who are playing?

Lopez swings open the door, before snatching me by the wrist and dragging me inside.

Instantly, I’m hit by a smell that’s so familiar it makes me ache: sweat, rubber, and the aggressive pheromones of hyped up Alphas before a match.

It’s so strong that I’m overwhelmed.

I shake.

I long for the sensation of ice beneath my blades even more…to fly over the rink.

For such freedom.

Ruthlessly, I shove down the thought and then lock it away tight.

I’m never going to be able to dance on ice again.

Hoping for it is only going to hurt me. It’ll weigh down my Soul.

Lopez tightens her hold on me as she leads me into the warren of corridors between the locker rooms. They’re bustling with Betas in suits and muscled Alphas in hockey uniforms.

I study the uniforms. The pants are violet, and the jerseys are black and violet with a logo of two crossed glowing purple skates on the front.

The Washington Blades.

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