I stare at my phone screen, reading Sebastian's message for the hundredth time. *6 AM at the rink. Bring your A-game. The ice doesn't lie.*

My stomach twists into knots. It's 3 AM and I haven't slept at all. Every time I close my eyes, I imagine all the ways this could go wrong.

What if I'm not fast enough? What if they realize I'm different? What if I mess up and they kick me off the team before I even get started?

Tyler rolls over in his sleep, muttering something about biochemistry formulas. I want to wake him up just to have someone to talk to, but what would I say? That I'm terrified three alpha werewolves are going to see right through my disguise in a few hours?

My hands shake as I get out of bed. The fear in my chest feels like it's eating me alive, making it hard to breathe. But underneath the terror, there's something else. Excitement. Pure anticipation that makes my skin buzz.

This is it. This is my chance to prove that girls can play hockey just as well as boys.

I creep to the bathroom and stare at myself in the mirror. Freddie Sterling looks back at me with hollow eyes and sharp cheekbones. The boy's haircut makes my face look different, older somehow. Stronger. I practice lowering my voice, making my shoulders broader, standing like I own the world even though I feel like I'm falling apart inside.

"You can do this," I whisper to my reflection. "You've been playing hockey your whole life. These are just boys. Very big, very attractive, very intimidating boys, but still just boys."

My pep talk doesn't help much.

When my alarm goes off at 5:30, I'm already dressed and ready. My hockey gear feels heavier today. Every piece I put on is another layer of my disguise, another lie I have to maintain.

The walk to the arena feels like walking to my execution.

The campus is deadly quiet at this hour. Frost covers the grass and my breath comes out in little white puffs. My heart pounds so hard I'm sure it's echoing across the empty quad. With each step closer to the rink, the butterflies in my stomach get more violent.

When I reach the arena, my hands are trembling so badly I can barely open the door.

Inside, the emergency lighting casts weird shadows everywhere. It's like stepping into another world. The silence feels heavy.

I'm lacing up my skates when I hear footsteps.

"Early bird gets the worm."

I jump about a foot in the air, my heart practically exploding out of my chest. Logan stands there in full gear, looking dangerous in the dim light. Even just standing still, he radiates this quiet power that makes my mouth go dry.

"Couldn't sleep," I manage, hoping my voice doesn't betray how freaked out I am. "Figured I might as well come early."

Logan nods slowly, his dark eyes studying my face. The way he looks at me makes heat crawl up my neck. It's like he can see straight through my carefully practiced act to all the secrets underneath.

"Smart move. Sebastian doesn't mess around. He's going to push you until you either break or prove you belong here." His voice is low and rough, sending shivers down my spine.

"What about you?" I ask before I can stop myself. "Do you think I belong here?"

The question hangs in the air between us. Logan's gaze intensifies, and I feel like a deer caught in headlights. My pulse hammers in my throat and my palms start sweating inside my gloves.

"I think you're hiding something big," he says finally. "But everyone has secrets. What matters is whether you can play when everything's on the line."

He skates onto the ice with effortless grace that makes my chest tight with longing. I want to move like that, with such confidence and power. I want to belong here so badly it physically hurts.

Taking a deep breath, I follow him onto the ice.

The cold air hits my face like a slap, but it also clears my head. This is my element. This is where I've always felt most like myself, where all the confusion and fear melts away and there's just me and the game I love.

"Well, well. Look who decided to join the party early."

Sebastian's voice rolls across the rink. He emerges from the opposite tunnel with Zane right behind him, and my brain just stops working.

He's beautiful in the most dangerous way possible. All sharp angles and predatory grace, moving across the ice like he was born on skates. When his eyes lock onto mine, electricity shoots through my entire body. My stomach flips and heat pools low in my belly.

"Hope you warmed up properly, pretty boy," he calls out, and his tone makes me shiver. "Because we're not going easy on you."

Pretty boy. The nickname makes me flush hot and cold at the same time. Do I still look too feminine? Is he suspicious? Or is he just being a typical alpha jerk?

Zane glides up beside Sebastian, and the contrast between them is striking. Where Sebastian is all intensity and sharp edges, Zane moves like he's dancing. His smile is warm and genuine, but his eyes are calculating. He's just as dangerous as the other two, just better at hiding it.

"Morning. You must be Freddie," he says, and somehow makes my fake name sound almost affectionate. "Ready to see what we're really made of?"

Standing there with all three of them staring at me, I feel like prey being circled by wolves. Which, technically, I am. The predator energy radiating off them makes every instinct I have scream at me to run. But I can't run. This is my shot, my dream, my chance to prove myself.

I force Freddie's cocky grin onto my face even though my knees feel like jelly. "Born ready."

Sebastian's answering smile is all teeth and challenge. "We'll see about that."

What follows is the most intense hour of my life.

They put me through drills that would make professional players cry. Lightning-fast passing sequences that leave my arms burning. Brutal one-on-one battles for the puck that have me gasping for air. Shooting exercises where they critique every single shot while I try not to collapse from exhaustion.

But here's the thing that surprises even me—I keep up.

More than that, I dominate.

Every desperate hour I spent in those underground rinks in London pays off. Every time I got knocked down and got back up. Every goal I scored while pretending I didn't exist. It all leads to this moment where I get to show these alpha werewolves that I'm not just good enough—I'm better.

The fear melts away, replaced by pure adrenaline and joy. This is why I risked everything. This is why I cut my hair and left my family and pretended to be someone else. For moments like this when I get to play the sport I love at the highest level.

"Holy shit," Zane breathes after I deke around Sebastian so smoothly he nearly falls over. "Where did that come from?"

Pride swells in my chest so big I might float away. "Just getting warmed up."

Sebastian skates over, his eyes blazing with something intense and unreadable. He stops close enough that I can smell his scent—pine and snow and something darker that makes my head spin. My heart hammers against my ribs and my mouth goes completely dry.

"Not bad, Sterling," he says, his voice rough in a way that sends heat shooting through my veins. "But let's see how you handle real pressure."

Before I can ask what he means, Logan appears on my other side. Then Zane completes the triangle, and suddenly I'm trapped between three alpha werewolves who are all staring at me with this intensity that makes me dizzy.

The air between us crackles with something electric and dangerous. I can barely breathe, caught between terror and a strange, overwhelming attraction that I don't understand.

"Three-on-one," Sebastian says, his smile turning predatory. "You keep the puck for thirty seconds, you've earned our respect. Lose it..."

"I won't lose it," I say, surprised by how strong my voice sounds when everything inside me is shaking.

Sebastian leans closer, so close his breath ghosts across my ear. "Confident. I like that. But confidence without skill is just arrogance."

When he pulls back, his eyes are burning with challenge and something else that makes my stomach flip. I'm pretty sure I've stopped breathing entirely.

They spread out around me, forming a perfect triangle. This isn't just a hockey drill anymore. This is a test of everything—my skill, my right to be here, my ability to hold my own against three of the most elite players in the country.

The puck drops and chaos erupts.

They come at me like a coordinated storm. Sebastian all aggression and raw power. Logan calculating and relentless like a machine. Zane deceptively graceful but no less dangerous.

But I've been preparing for this my entire life without knowing it.

I move like water between them, using their size and strength against them. I find spaces that shouldn't exist, make impossible passes, dance around them like they're standing still. The fear is completely gone now, replaced by pure competitive fire and joy.

Fifteen seconds. Twenty. Twenty-five.

Sebastian lunges for the puck and I slip it between his legs, spinning around him so fast he nearly crashes into Logan. The look of shock on his face is priceless. Zane tries to pin me against the boards but I use his momentum to spin past him.

Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine.

"Time!" Zane calls out.

The arena falls silent except for our heavy breathing. I'm trembling from exhaustion and adrenaline, but I'm still standing. Still holding the puck. Still here.

Sebastian skates over slowly, his expression unreadable. When he stops in front of me, we're close enough that I can see the gold flecks in his dark eyes. The intensity of his stare makes my knees weak.

"Well," he says finally. "I'll be damned."

Logan appears beside him, respect clear on his face for the first time. "Kid's got serious skill."

"Skill?" Zane joins them, and suddenly I'm surrounded again. But this time it feels different. Like I'm being welcomed instead of tested. "That was pure artistry."

Sebastian reaches out and taps my helmet gently with his glove. The gesture is surprisingly tender and makes something warm bloom in my chest.

"Welcome to the team, Freddie Sterling. Try not to make the rest of us look bad."

I should feel victorious. I passed their test, earned their respect, secured my place on the team. But as Sebastian skates away, I catch him exchanging a loaded look with Logan and Zane. Something passes between them that makes the air feel electric again.

I passed their test, earned their respect, secured my place on the legendary Crescent Moon Wolves.

As I watch the three alphas head toward the locker room, talking in low, intense voices, I can't shake the feeling that the real test is just beginning.

And I have no idea if Freddie Sterling—if I—am strong enough for whatever comes next.

The ice doesn't lie, Sebastian had said.

But I'm starting to think the ice might be the only honest thing in this entire situation.