Summary:

”Rozanov looks good in Russia, sure, but here? I don’t know if he’ll hold up.”

Shane wasn’t supposed to be listening. At sixteen, a decade into competition hockey, this was his first time at the Saskatchewan arena and he’d taken the wrong turn in the long, echoing corridors. The conference room door was shut, but there was a crack at the bottom and the words spilled out into the hallway, bouncing off the cheap vinyl tiles. He tried to breathe quietly, desperate for news about his opponent. There was only one other player near Shane’s level, and he’d come all the way from Russia.

“The rumors—”

The voice trailed off. Someone cleared their throat.

Heart beating double-time, Shane felt for his scent blockers. One firm cuff around each wrist, pads on either side of his neck. The underwear everyone wore, basic manners. Too many alphas in a small enough space could—had—led to fights in the locker room. Always, Shane had to set a good example. Had to be better, so he could play.

“I don’t believe it.” A chair creaked. “No fuckin’ omega plays like Rozanov.”