Amelia’s POV

The air was crisp inside the arena, making every breath I took cloud in front of my face like smoke.

The crowd around me roared, but all I could focus on was him, my boyfriend, Michael Chase, the player wearing number 9 and the Captain of the Rising Hockey Team.

He was the center of attention, skating across the rink like a storm in motion, sharp and dazzling.

He was good when it came to handling the puck.

As he charged down the ice with the puck, I sat on the bleachers with my hands curled into tight fists and my heart pounding for a completely different reason.

It wasn’t pride swelling in my chest seeing his elite performance in front of a thousand people in the stadium, it was fear.

That persistent, gnawing fear I had tried to swallow for weeks. The kind that came from knowing you love someone more than they love you.

I wasn’t part of his social life, I wasn’t even acknowledged, I was his secret.

“Not yet,” he always said when I asked when he would make our relationship public. “The guys tease too much. The press, the fans… it’ll just make things messy.” He backed up his words and like a fool, I believed it.

I thought hiding in his shadows was temporary and that one day, he would lace his fingers with mine and introduce me to the world.

That he would look at me the way he did on quiet nights, like I was everything but that day never came.

The moment I shifted my whole focus back to the game, the buzzer blasted through the arena, signaling the final score.

Rising Hockey Team: 3, Crescent Wolves: 2.

The bleachers shook from the celebration. People screamed, flags waved, drums pounded, and confetti exploded in the air.

I was halfway to standing, grinning widely and ready to run down and congratulate him. I could already hear his voice in my head. “Did you see that last goal, baby?”

Then he would hug me tight and spin me, just like we practiced in secret.

But before I even rose to my feet, it happened.

Michael pulled off his helmet, skated to the side of the rink and grabbed Brielle Monroe, the head of the cheerleader and then he kissed her.

He had kissed her right there, on the ice, under the floodlights, and in front of everyone.

I stopped breathing at the sight.

The entire stadium erupted louder, and this time, the cheer wasn't for the goal, it was for them.

My throat tightened as I watched them, his arms wrapped around her like that was where they belonged all along while her fingers slid into his hair, and he didn’t stop her.

He kissed her again and it felt even deeper than the first.

Stunned, I slowly lowered myself on my seat. I was halfway between standing and falling off my seat.

I could feel the breath leaving my lungs in shivers.

My heart didn't just break, it had cracked like glass under pressure.

And the worst part?

No one even looked at me because no one knew I existed.

Finally, I sank back into my seat.

So this was the plan.

He had been phasing me out. That’s why we hadn’t gone out in weeks, why he didn’t reply to half my texts and why I didn’t get a good luck call before his biggest game of the season.

He was already done with me.

And now the entire school thought Brielle was his girlfriend.

Hell, maybe they always did.

I waited until the game ended and the crowd thinned out even though I was itching to confront him.

With my head bowed, I pulled my feet slowly but steadily, toward the players' locker room.

My limbs were moving on autopilot and my mind was blank except for the image of that kiss playing over and over.

The betrayal was taking a huge toil on me.

The players’ room was restricted from others but I didn't mind.

Without a second thought, I pushed the door open and then stepped in.

Almost immediately, my eyes fell on Michael who was already half way out of his gear and bent over his duffel bag.

He must have scented my presence because the next second, he looked up and his smile faltered that instant.

“Amelia?” He called, straightening up slowly.

“Don’t pretend you’re surprised,” I said, my voice hoarse from holding back my tears. “You knew I would come.” I choked on my tears.

“I didn’t… I didn’t mean for you to find out like this.”

“Like what?” I snapped, slamming the door shut behind me. “Watching you make out with Brielle in front of the whole school? Because if that wasn’t the plan, then congratulations, mission accomplished.”

Looking around the empty room, he ran a hand through his sweat-matted hair. “It wasn’t like that. I—”

“Save it.” I cut in, my voice trembling. “All those months you kept me hidden, all the excuses, this was what you were preparing me for, right?” I snarled, baring my canines.

Taking a deep breath, he took a step forward, “I found my mate, I was going to tell you.” He announced.

The words hit me like a slap which made me stagger backwards.

“I found my mate,” he repeated. “After the final goal. It happened fast, but I knew. That pull… it was like gravity. It was always meant to be Brielle and the bond confirmed it today.”

Stunned, I stared at him, blinking uncontrollably as the tears rolled down my cheeks in torrents and burnt my cheeks.

“So that’s it?” I asked. “We’re over because you smelled something different on the ice?”

“You know how it works, a mate bond is sacred.”

“And what were we?” I whispered. “Practice?”

He didn’t answer.

Before I could say something else, the door creaked open and Brielle strolled in, a smug smile plastered across her lips. She was wearing his jersey like it was hers now.

“Oh, you didn’t tell me your ex was here,” she said, walking right up to him only to kiss his cheek.

All the while, she never broke eye contact with me.

Without another word, I turned around and then stormed out in fury.

I didn’t care where I was going. I just needed to breathe, to scream and cry without anyone seeing me fall apart.

A few minutes later, I found myself in the parking garage. The fluorescent lights were buzzing above and casting long shadows across the rows of cars.

Drained, I slid through the pillar, hugging my legs against my chest firmly as tears rolled down my cheeks.

With no one to witness this, I cried. It wasn't those soft, pretty movie tears but raw, choking sobs that tore out of me like thunder.

Gripping my knee with a hand, I clutched my stomach as if I could hold myself together.

Memories came rushing in in torrents. Everything I had believed in, every soft whisper, every night he called me beautiful, every stupid promise was all a lie.

I cried until I exhausted all my tears and could only whimper.

Wiping my face with the sleeve of my jacket, I pulled myself up. I was going to head for the dorm but then I saw his car.

His sleek black Ford Mustang which I never got to enter was parked in the far corner, shining under the lights.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I walked toward the Mustang and kicked the tire.

“I hate you!" I yelled, kicking it the second time only to start slamming my foot into the rim.

I didn’t care if it was irrational, I didn’t care if I broke my boot or sprained my ankle, I just wanted to hurt something that belonged to him.

“Damn it!” I screamed as pain flared through my shin.

“You know,” a voice drawled behind me, calm and almost amused. “I’ve got some hockey sticks in my trunk, if you don’t mind.”

He didn't stop there, he added, "You might be relieved if you break the car’s glass instead.”