Chapter 1
The cabin walls trembled with every thrust, every ragged groan torn from my throat. My body arched helplessly, trapped between the sheets and the weight of the man driving into me with relentless force. Sweat dripped down my temple, my nails clawed at his back, and still I wanted more—harder, deeper, faster—until there was nothing left of me but fire.
His hands gripped my thighs, spreading me wider, dragging another broken gasp from my lips as the bed creaked beneath us. The sound was loud in the small space, mixing with the slap of skin and the low, guttural sound he made each time he buried himself inside me. My eyes rolled back, my breath shattered.
Yes. This was what I needed. Not him—not the man above me, whose name I barely remembered and whose face blurred every time I closed my eyes. No. What I needed was the intensity. The kind that made my body tremble, the kind that made me forget.
Forget the sting of last season’s final whistle. Forget the roar of rival cheers as our crown slipped from our hands for the first time in a decade. Forget the hollow look in my teammates’ eyes when we lost again at the start of this season.
For years, Green Land Pack had ruled the championship. We were the glory of the North, feared and admired in equal measure. I was the captain—the anchor, the fighter, the one who carried us when we stumbled. But now? Now we were slipping, and no one hated it more than I did.
So I used this. Sex. Heat. Pain blurred into pleasure. The harder he pushed, the more I could bury the ache that lived inside me. The ache of being invisible everywhere but here, unseen by every man until fate decided otherwise. At twenty-five, I was tired of waiting. Tired of being cursed.
I squeezed my eyes shut, moaning as he shifted, hitting deeper. The air was thick with the musk of sweat and skin, every thrust slamming the frustration from my body, every sound from his lips pushing me closer. My stomach knotted, my body tightening, until finally—release. It tore through me, raw and violent, dragging a cry from my chest.
For a second, it worked. For a second, I was weightless.
Then—
BANG, BANG, BANG!
The door rattled under a fist.
“Elena!” a voice yelled, sharp and familiar. “Stop screwing your brains out! We’ve got a meeting on the field in five minutes!”
I froze, heart still pounding. The man groaned in protest, but I shoved at his chest, scrambling to sit up.
“Out,” I hissed, already reaching for my shorts.
He blinked. “What?”
“Out. Back door. Now.”
Another knock, louder this time.
“Elena, I swear!” Mara’s voice—my best friend, striker, and the only person alive who could get away with that tone. “If you make us late again, Coach will skin us alive!”
I dragged my shirt over my head, yanked my sneakers on, and shoved the man toward the back. His grumble faded as I splashed cold water on my face, tugged my jersey into place, and bolted out the door.
The air outside was cool, tinged with the sharp scent of pine and earth. Gravel crunched under my shoes as I sprinted down the narrow path, lungs burning.
The Green Land Pack field had never looked smaller.
Under the glare of the floodlights, the grass shimmered pale green, scarred from years of victories, gouged by cleats, stamped by generations of wolves who had bled and fought for glory here. The white lines marking the pitch were fading in places, like battle scars, and the stands beyond still carried the faint echo of crowds who had once screamed our name.
Tonight, though, there was no roar. Only the quiet shuffle of boots on grass, the wheeze of breath after drills, the hum of tension in the air.
Our referee, Jonas Kade blew his whistle once, sharp and clean, pulling us tighter into formation as Coach Victor Hale strode forward. He walked with that same limp he’d carried since his own playing days, a reminder of the injury that had ended his championship career, but his eyes were as sharp as they had ever been.
Then the Alpha appeared at his side.
The ripple that moved through our team was instant, almost physical. Girls straightened spines, pulled shoulders back, fixed hair with trembling fingers. A few actually gasped aloud, hands pressed to mouths as if they’d just seen the Moon Goddess herself.
“Why’s he here?” whispered Alina, one of our midfielders, her eyes wide with both awe and fear.
“Shut up,” hissed Mara, though her grin betrayed her excitement. “Maybe he’s come to crown us the worst damn pack in the North.”
A nervous snicker escaped from the back row. Jonas’s whistle cut it off immediately.
I clenched my jaw. My chest was still rising too quickly from the sprint here, and the rawness of earlier clung to my skin like sweat.
The Alpha’s presence pressed down on me, made me feel both too small and too exposed, like every failure was carved into my forehead for him to see.
Coach Hale’s voice rang out. “Line up. Now.”
We obeyed instantly, boots thudding into place.
The Alpha’s gaze swept over us, and the field fell silent. He was not just a man; he was an aura, a force that bent everyone beneath it. His silver hair caught in the light, his eyes the cold steel of winter rivers.
“I know you are all aware of our recent… decline.” His words were not loud, yet they carried, wrapping around the stadium, seeping into the grass itself. “Losing the championship was not just a disappointment. It was a humiliation.”
Whispers started again, quick and sharp.
Someone shifted beside me, their cleats scuffing the dirt. Mara’s elbow brushed
mine, her muttered curse barely audible.
“And beginning this season with another loss?” the Alpha went on, his tone sharper now, “Unacceptable.”
My stomach twisted. His words were truth. They burned like acid because they were true.
“You are the pride of Green Land Pack,” he continued, gaze pinning each of us in turn. “Yet you play like cubs chasing their tails. That ends now.”
I swallowed hard, fighting the urge to drop my eyes. Around me, girls shifted uneasily, some biting lips, others straightening further as though pride alone could shield them. Mara, ever defiant, crossed her arms, though I saw the twitch of her jaw.
The Alpha paused, letting the weight of silence settle like chains. Even the night air stilled, the forest beyond hushed, as if waiting.
Then his voice dropped lower, colder.
“Coach Hale will remain your coach. But he will not carry this burden alone.”
Murmurs broke out instantly, sharp whispers rippling down the line like wildfire. Alina gasped again. Two defenders at the far end exchanged a wide-eyed look, while someone behind me muttered, “They’re replacing him.”
Coach Hale’s expression didn’t flinch, but his jaw tightened.
The Alpha raised a hand, and silence fell once more.
“I am bringing in someone new. An assistant who will stand by him. Who will demand more from you than you thought possible. Someone who will remind you what it means to fight like wolves.”
The whispers returned, sharper now, carrying threads of fear, curiosity, excitement. A girl in the front actually smiled, as though imagining some dashing savior arriving to rescue us.
Mara leaned toward me, her voice low and sardonic. “Bet it’s some washed-up old wolf who’ll make us run laps until we puke.”
I almost smiled, but the Alpha’s gaze swept over us again, cold and unyielding, and every trace of humor died on my tongue.
“He will arrive tomorrow,” the Alpha finished, his voice final, absolute. “And when he does… everything changes.”
The words hung in the air like thunder that had not yet struck, a storm gathering on the horizon.
None of us moved. None of us breathed.
For the first time since stepping onto the field, I felt something heavier than failure pressing against my ribs—something closer to dread.
