Page 139 of Break The Ice

My eyes widen. “You are the one who ranhim over?”

“Of course. Your boyfriend was clearly a terrible guy. He had to go, too. It was hard to watch you with him, but you needed to try so you could appreciate me.”

I gag. “You put Danyal in a wheelchair. He almost died!” I scream.

He takes another step, and I set up another puck, tensing.

“I love how full of fire you are. We really are perfect for each other.”

“I don’t even know you!” I howl. “You’re just the shadow that has terrorized me most of my life.”

This is scarier than not knowing who he was. He’s crazy and obsessed, and he’s already proven he’s incredibly dangerous. But Danyal was innocent.

“Your parents’ death was destiny telling me that I was right and we were meant to be.”

“It was an accident.”

“A divine accident. A blessing.”

I stare at him, unable to think of anything to say to him because he’s insane. So fucking insane.

“How did you hide?” I ask.

“At first, hair dye and glasses. You’d be surprised at how often you saw me. But I needed a new identity, so I had plastic surgery and created Wesley. Now we can be together. I’ll become the coach now that your uncle has accepted Typhor’s bribe and been caught trading Turner.”

He steps closer. I hit a puck, but it goes off at an angle.

He made a mistake, though. He mentioned my pack, and now I’m all fired up again.

He looks like a normal guy. Nothing stands out. He’s good-looking but not too hot. His eyes are a plain green, and his hair is mousey brown. I don’t recognise him as the boy I knew.

“Rusty!” I call out.

He smiles. “You do remember me.”

I shudder because it really is him.

Wesley takes several steps towards me. I shift too fast and go down hard on the ice.

My heart explodes into a gallop as I push myself up. But it’s too late. His arm wraps around my waist and pulls me back against his chest. He smells like rotten potatoes but faintly, like he’s been using scent neutralizers.

“I have loved you every minute since the day I first saw you,” he whispers in my ear. “You and I are forever.”

In the back of my mind, I’m seeing all those documentaries I’ve watched. The obsessive male alpha who fixates on a mate. The ones who are more dangerous when you say you don’t love them.

I remember all my self-defense training.

“I just don’t understand why you chose me?” I murmur, trying to buy time. “I’m nobody.”

One hand slides up my body and cups my throat, and my skittering alarm turns into thunderous fear.

“Why? What reason is there to possibly explain destiny or fate? It just is. You were there. Your hair up in a messy ponytail, in baggy jeans and an oversized t-shirt that exposed one of your shoulders. Ryann, you had a hockey stick in your hands and a smile on your face, and I just knew we were supposed to be together forever. You are mine.”

“I’m not an omega,” I murmur, trying not to scream. “You’re an alpha. Alphas need omegas.”

“I don’t care about omegas. They mean nothing to me.”

His fingers tighten around my throat. I’ve still got the hockey stick in my hands. Should I let go of it, attack him with it?

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