I sit in the locker room staring at my phone, just at the black screen, trying to process what just happened out there.

I passed their test. I actually did it.

The adrenaline is starting to wear off now, leaving me shaky and exhausted. My entire body feels like I've been hit by a truck, but it's the good kind of pain.

The kind that means I pushed myself to my absolute limit and came out the other side.

I can hear Sebastian, Logan, and Zane talking in low voices a few rows over, their conversation mixing with the sound of there hockey gear being removed and water running. Normal post-practice sounds, but nothing about this situation feels normal.

My stomach churns, but this time it's not from fear. It's from something else entirely. Something I don't want to examine too closely.

The way they looked at me out there. The way Sebastian's eyes blazed when I kept up with their drills. The pride in Logan's voice when he called my playing artistry. The gentle way Zane said my name like it meant something.

I press my back against the cool metal of my locker and try to breathe. The air feels thick and charged, like right before a thunderstorm.

"Freddie? You good, man?"

Zane's voice makes me look up. He's standing at the end of my row, concern written all over his face. His hair is damp from the shower and he's only wearing a towel around his waist, which does absolutely nothing to help my current emotional situation because now I'm dealing with the fact that he's gorgeous and half-naked and apparently worried about me.

Heat floods my cheeks. I duck my head and focus on unlacing my skates. "Yeah, just processing everything. That was intense."

He steps closer, and I catch his scent. Something warm and comforting like cedar and vanilla that makes my racing heart slow down just a little. The effect is immediate and confusing – why does his presence calm me when it should make me more nervous?

"You absolutely killed it out there," he says, and the genuine pride in his voice makes my chest swell. "Seriously. I don't think any of us expected you to be that good when Sabastain told us about you."

I risk looking up at him, and the warmth in his eyes makes my stomach flip. "Thanks. You guys weren't exactly easy on me."

Zane grins, and it transforms his entire face. "That was us being nice. Wait until you see what real practice looks like."

The thought should terrify me, but instead I feel this weird thrill. I want to see what real practice looks like. I want to push myself harder, prove myself more, earn more of those looks from him.

Before I can respond, Sebastian appears behind him. He's also fresh from the shower, water droplets still clinging to his shoulders, and the sight of him makes my brain short-circuit completely.

Everything about him screams danger and power, from the way he moves to the intensity in his dark eyes.

"Sterling." His voice is low and rough, sending heat shooting through my veins. "Good work today. You might actually survive on this team."

Coming from him, it feels like the highest praise possible. My chest swells with warmth, even though the phone in my hand reminds me that none of this might matter in a few hours.

"Thanks," I manage. "I won't let you down."

Something flickers in Sebastian's eyes, something that makes my pulse stutter. "See that you don't."

Logan joins them, and suddenly I'm surrounded by three half-dressed alpha werewolves who are all staring at me with varying degrees of interest and intensity. The air feels thick and charged, like right before a thunderstorm.

"Team meeting tonight," Sebastian says, his gaze never leaving my face. "Seven PM in the film room. We'll go over plays and expectations."

"I'll be there," I say, even though the meeting is seven hours before my mysterious appointment and I have no idea if I'll even still be at this school by then.

They exchange another one of those loaded looks that makes my skin prickle with awareness.

Like they're having an entire conversation without words, and I'm the subject they're discussing.

"See you then, Freddie," Zane says softly, and the way he says my fake name makes my stomach flip.

They walk away together, their voices dropping to whispers that I can't quite hear. But I catch fragments – "different," "something special," "can't put my finger on it."

The moment they're gone, I slump against my locker. My entire body feels like I've been hit by a truck.

The adrenaline from practice is wearing off, leaving me shaky and exhausted and terrified.

I read the message again, hoping maybe I imagined it. But it's still there, still threatening to destroy everything I've worked for.

I saw the massage immediately after proving myself to the captains and I can't wrap my head as to who might be threatening me.

*A friend.* What kind of friend threatens to expose someone's deepest secret?

Back in my dorm room, Tyler is getting ready for his first class, humming under his breath like he doesn't have a care in the world. The normalcy of it feels surreal after the intensity of this morning.

"Dude, you look completely wiped out," Tyler says, pausing in his morning routine. "How was practice with the holy trinity?"

"Brutal," I say, which isn't a lie. "But good. I think I might actually make it onto the team."

Tyler's face lights up immediately. "That's awesome! Emma's going to flip when I tell her. She's been dying to know what the new hockey prospect is like."

The casual mention of being watched and evaluated makes my stomach clench. "She asks about me?"

"Well, you're kind of a big deal now. New player making the team mid-semester? That doesn't happen often." Tyler grins and tosses me a energy bar. "Plus, you're pretty cute for a hockey player. I bet half the school's going to have a crush on you by the end of the week."

The energy bar turns to cardboard in my mouth. Great. More attention is exactly what I don't need.

The day drags by like torture. I sit through classes I can't focus on, eat lunch I can't taste, and try to act normal while my mind replays every moment of this morning's practice over and over.

Every time I close my eyes, I see Sebastian's intense stare. Feel Logan's quiet strength radiating from him. Remember the way Zane's smile made something warm and unfamiliar bloom in my chest.

This attraction I'm feeling toward them is dangerous. It makes me sloppy, makes me take risks I can't afford. I need to keep my distance, stay focused on hockey, remember why I'm here.

But when seven PM arrives and I walk into the film room, all my good intentions fly out the window.

They're already there, and they look up as I enter. In the dim lighting, they look even more devastating than usual.

Sebastian lounges in his chair like a king holding court. Logan sits straight-backed and alert, those dark eyes tracking my every movement, while Zane grins and waves me over with easy charm.

"Right on time," Sebastian says approvingly. "I like punctuality."

I take a seat near the back, trying to make myself invisible, but Zane shakes his head.

"Come sit with us, Freddie. You're part of the team now."

Part of the team. The words make my chest tight with emotion I don't know how to handle.

The next hour is incredible. They break down game footage with surgical precision, pointing out weaknesses and discussing strategies with the kind of passion that makes my heart race.

Their knowledge of the game is mind-blowing, and despite everything, I find myself getting completely caught up in their enthusiasm.

"What do you think, Freddie?" Logan asks suddenly, pausing the footage on a power play setup. "How would you attack this defense?"

All three of them turn to look at me, and my mouth goes dry. But as I study the screen, my hockey instincts take over.

"The left defenseman is cheating too far toward the net," I say, pointing at the screen. "If you send someone wide right and draw him out, there's a huge gap opening up in the slot."

Sebastian's eyebrows rise, and something that looks like impressed surprise crosses his face. "Exactly what I was thinking. Good eye."

The approval in his voice makes warmth bloom in my chest. I try to tell myself it's just professional respect, but the way he's looking at me suggests something much more complicated.

When the meeting ends, they walk out together, their voices low and intense. I catch fragments of their conversation as I pack up my things.

"...definitely hiding something..."

"...but did you see the way he moved..."

"...there's something about him..."

I wait until they're completely gone before I leave the room. My legs feel like jelly, and my heart is still racing from spending an hour in their presence.

Back in my dorm, Tyler is already asleep with his biochemistry textbook open on his chest. I sit on my bed and stare at the ceiling, trying to make sense of everything I'm feeling.

I should be celebrating. I made the team. I impressed them. I'm living my dream.

So why do I feel like I'm standing on the edge of a cliff, about to fall into something I'll never be able to climb back out of?

My phone buzzes with a text, and my heart leaps into my throat.

But it's from David: *How did today go?*

I stare at the message for a long time before typing back: *Made the team. It's complicated.*

His response comes immediately: *Everything okay? You sound stressed.*

I want to tell him about the way Sebastian looks at me like he's trying to solve a puzzle. About how Logan's quiet strength makes me feel protected and nervous at the same time. About how Zane's smile does things to my stomach that definitely aren't appropriate for teammates.

But I can't. Not over text, and maybe not at all.

*Just tired. Early morning practice tomorrow.*

*Be careful, Frey. I know I can't protect you here, but please be careful.*

The concern in his message makes my throat tight. David's been my protector my whole life, and now he has to watch from the sidelines while I navigate this dangerous new world alone.

*I will. Promise.*

I set my phone aside and try to sleep, but my mind keeps racing. Tomorrow I'll have my first real practice with the entire team.

Tomorrow I'll have to maintain my disguise around not just three alphas, but a whole roster of elite werewolf athletes.

Tomorrow, the real challenge begins.

But as I finally drift off to sleep, it's not thoughts of hockey that fill my dreams.

It's dark eyes and gentle smiles and the feeling of being seen – really seen – for the first time in my life.

Even if they don't know they're seeing the real me yet.