The first thing Jax did after winning the highest honor at the Werewolf Hockey Cup was sleep with his omega assistant. Someone from a rival team caught it on camera. As his mate and head coach, I swallowed the pain of being betrayed by my mate and went to clean up his mess. On the way there, I was ambushed by a pack of rogues. When I came to, I was in a hospital. The life force of the three pups I'd been carrying had gone completely silent. The next day, Jax sent me to a bar to settle his tab. Instead, I found him raising a cocktail glass with the same people who had jumped me. "So this is the great Ice Queen," one of them sneered. "Couldn't even take down a few rogues like us." My heart dropped. I had been taking suppressants to delay labor for the sake of his games. It had cost me every ounce of my strength. I laughed, cold and quiet. A man like this doesn't deserve my mark. Later, I put him on the ice myself and made him eat it. He looked up at me and demanded to know why I had betrayed him. I gave him my most innocent smile. "Did you just figure out that only the strong get to stand beside me?" I had barely walked through the door when Jax called. But the voice on the other end wasn't his. It was Lyra — sweet as candy, with a needle of provocation underneath. "Coach Astrid, Jax has run up quite a tab. You should come drink it off with him. Otherwise, Jax might have to face the consequences~" Before, I always put Jax's needs first. I covered for him, cleaned up after him, absorbed every consequence of every line he crossed. Including the pregnancy. That one was on him too — he wanted the full experience, but once I was actually carrying his children, he panicked. Didn't want to derail his career. Didn't want to lose the fans. So he asked me to take suppressants to limit the development of the pups inside me. Because I loved him, I kept sacrificing. I kept letting it go. But now — that love is gone. It left with the last trace of my pups. As for Lyra, I know exactly what she's been after. She's been working to hook Jax for a long time now. A man with no accountability and a woman climbing her way up through him — honestly, they deserve each other. The next morning, Jax and Lyra were all over the headlines. The fan backlash was immediate and ugly. He showed up running a hand through his still-hungover hair. "Astrid, handle this for me. These reporters are like dogs that won't let go." I looked down at my phone screen, which had just lit up. "Ms. Astrid, I hope today's headlines meet your approval. Consider it a gesture of goodwill from Alpha Killian." I typed back: With pleasure. Screen off. This was the first time I hadn't jumped to do what he asked. Jax frowned and came to stand beside me. "What are you busy with?" "Tell me — is it the reporters who can't keep their lenses clean, or is it you who can't keep your hands to yourself?" I crossed my arms. "Your performance on the ice has been slipping lately. Even the new bench players are outpacing you." Jax flinched at that — just for a second — before annoyance took over. "With my record, you think I need to be compared to a bunch of new birds?" I didn't argue. I just looked at him with a half-smile. The alpha dominance Jax had just pushed out pulled back. In the past, moments like this always ended in a fight — he would lean on his alpha pressure out of habit, and it worked. This time I just stood there, looking at him quietly, my eyes bloodshot from the weight of it. He didn't apologize for this, just rubbed the back of his neck, a little awkward. "I haven't been in great shape lately. Maybe I need some time off." I said nothing. I already knew exactly why his shape was off. He was drinking almost every night, flying to Vegas to gamble until dawn just for the thrill. And at the center of all of it was Lyra. She didn't even try to hide it, posting photo after photo of the two of them splashing around in an infinity pool, captioned: "Life is freedom and joy!" Half the internet called her Jax's secret weapon. They praised her as a proud example of what an omega could be. Only I knew how many performance-enhancers she'd been quietly slipping him. And Jax was too drunk on easy wins to care. As for me — I had stopped caring about where his career was headed. I was just waiting for him to fall. "Oh, right," he said. "I heard you ran into some rogues the other day. You okay?" I looked at him steadily. He was one of the reasons it happened. This concern of his — coming days late, wrapped in lies — meant nothing. My hand drifted to my stomach without my permission. My three pups... "What do you think could happen to me?" I said. Jax blinked, then let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "You omegas are so good at playing the victim. Honestly, I just wanted to make sure no one was poaching what's mine." I stood up and met his eyes. "Whether I've been faithful — our bond doesn't lie." He felt my anger. More than that, he felt his own guilt — because every time he betrayed me, it left something like a blade buried in my chest. Then he pulled me into his arms without warning. "Astrid, you're the only one in my heart. I fight for you. For our children. Always." I looked into his deep blue eyes. These were the eyes I had thrown away my own career for — stepped down from being one of the top players in professional hockey to become his personal coach. But standing here now, I felt nothing but cold. Because I'd seen what those same words looked like when they were aimed at someone else. Killian had sent me a video. For the past three days, Jax had been telling Lyra the same things, word for word: "Astrid is carrying my kids, sure — but I never marked her. Lyra, you're the best woman I've ever known. You're the one who deserves everything I have." This cheap, disgusting love. This cheap, disgusting man. He doesn't deserve to be my mate. I pulled away from him without making it obvious. His smile cracked. "You're still hung up on me and Lyra, aren't you? She was right — women your age are always paranoid and clingy. Lyra and I are just colleagues." I smiled without a sound. Just colleagues. Colleagues who share a bed, you mean? I'm old? Wasn't it him — begging me to train him — not so long ago? But I was too tired to say any of it out loud. A man who treats hurting me like entertainment isn't worth a single second more of my time.
"Ms. Astrid, have you made your decision?" Another message from Killian. A photo came with it — timestamped three minutes ago. Jax had just told me he was going to training. He was at a high-end French restaurant having afternoon tea with Lyra. I looked around the apartment Jax and I had shared for five years. The shelves were lined with trophies of every size. But the things that belonged to me had been quietly disappearing. I kicked aside the pink lunch bag near my feet — Lyra's "lovingly prepared" breakfast for Jax. A white bread sandwich from Subway. I pressed one word into the keyboard and hit send. Then I went to find the club's owner — Sloane, who had also been my coach once — and handed in my resignation. Before he could respond, Lyra and Jax's voices drifted in. "Can I really be your personal assistant? I'm worried Astrid won't agree — everyone knows she likes keeping you all to herself." "I'm not anyone's property. And given how many games I've been winning lately, I think I know what's actually good for me." Sloane shot me an awkward glance. I just smiled. "Your call," I said. "I just hope we don't end up on opposite sides." "My opponents," I added, "are always the people who've hurt me." I turned to leave. Jax and Lyra were walking through the door at the same moment. We passed each other without a word. Three minutes later, Jax grabbed my arm — no care for the way it made me wince. "Was it you? Did you go behind my back to stop Lyra from getting that position?" "I can't believe how petty you are. Bullying someone hardworking and innocent just because of me?" I yanked my arm free. The truth was simple: Lyra was the weakest person in the whole club. The only reason anyone put up with her was to keep Jax happy. "Sloane made his own decision. You really think he takes orders from me?" Before Jax could answer, Lyra came rushing out, eyes already red. "Astrid, if you have a problem with me, say it to my face. I just want to take care of Jax. It's all my fault. Jax has nothing to do with it..." I watched her perform. Watched Jax roll out his alpha dominance in my direction. Both of them, suddenly dull to me. Then Sloane stepped between us. "Lyra hasn't even made it through her probation period. She can't take on a personal assistant role right now — it's in the handbook. Any transfer requests have to go through HR." I shrugged, making clear this had nothing to do with me, and walked away. But I knew it wasn't over. Sure enough — three days later, Jax threw a game on purpose. The club dropped three places in the standings. We locked eyes from across the ice. Lyra was at his side, handing him water. I knew exactly what he was doing — using the thing I cared most about as leverage against me. Three years ago, he had been a nobody. Eight straight losses, on the verge of being cut. He'd come to me with red-rimmed eyes and said he didn't want to lose, and he wasn't going to keep losing, and he needed me to teach him. I saw something in him that reminded me of who I used to be. So I spent forty-eight hours watching every game he'd ever played, built a strategy around the way he moved, and handed it to him. He became someone overnight. He hasn't lost since. And now he uses the game as a bargaining chip. Maybe he stopped being that person a long time ago. People who don't respect the ice always end up losing everything. I picked up my bag and walked out of the stands. On the way out, my phone flashed with a prenatal appointment reminder. I drew a slow breath, hand trembling, and pressed cancel. "You're using the baby against me now?" Jax's voice came from behind, low and bristling. "I thought someone your age would know better. But you're acting worse than Lyra, who is five years younger than you. At least she knows how to be supportive." "Cancel the prenatal appointment, fine. Then don't expect me at any of them going forward. That was our agreement." He hurled his phone at the floor and walked out without looking back. I touched my stomach. I used to be able to feel them there. In one more week, I would have stopped the suppressants, and they would have come into the world. I lost them because of those rogues. And Jax — the father of my children — was one of the people responsible. I wiped away tears I hadn't noticed falling. "My children are already gone. There are no more appointments to go to." For three days after that, Jax didn't come home. Word was he was at a strip club until sunrise every night. Same as always. Waiting for me to come and beg him back. He just didn't know. There was nothing left between us that was the same as before.
Jax found me while I was packing up my office. He rubbed the back of his neck, a little awkward. "Training's been running late. I didn't want to disturb you coming home so early." I looked down and smiled to myself. Was this him making excuses? Or had his numbers on the ice gotten bad enough that he suddenly remembered I existed? "Astrid. I've made up my mind." "Once the baby is born, we'll hold the mate ceremony. Our little one can be the ring bearer. You'll be my luna." "You were right — Lyra needs more time before she's ready. Let her keep training under you for a while, and then she can be my personal assistant. That way you won't have to deal with all the small stuff. You can just focus on coaching." "She's not a bad person. Just a lot of energy. Give it time and I think you'll get along." I placed the last stack of files into the moving box and looked up at him briefly. Said nothing. A baby. A ceremony. The only thing he actually wanted was to get Lyra that title. But I had more important things to deal with. I needed to get back on the ice. I needed to go from retired coach to peak athlete again, and I needed to do it fast. Jax must have read my silence as agreement. The next morning he showed up at the rink right on time and worked through the full training program I'd designed for him three years ago — one rep at a time, from the beginning. I stood at the edge of the ice and watched for ten minutes. Then I turned and switched the day's outdoor drills to indoor strength work. Over the next three games, Jax climbed back to his peak form. Lyra started posting about it on social media. Every photo showed her sitting courtside with a coffee in hand, captioned: "Watching a king rise again. This is why I'm here." The comments were unanimous. "Lyra is so devoted." "She's the real support behind Jax." I looked at it for two seconds and turned my phone face-down. Let them live in their little fantasy for now. The higher you climb, the harder you fall — isn't that how it goes? After getting a taste of what credit felt like, Lyra changed. She got louder on the practice floor — telling one player he was too slow, another one had no instincts — wearing the expression of someone who believed criticism was part of her job description. She got in front of the whole team and told Jack — a veteran who'd been playing professionally for years — "Isn't it time someone your age stepped aside and made room for younger players?" Jack smiled, dropped his glove on the ice, and left without a word. Two days later at a qualifying match, Lyra caused another scene. She made a gesture at a player from the opposing team — everyone in the arena saw it. The other team's supporters booed. Their players came out angry and played like it. Jax spent the whole game managing the fallout Lyra had created, pulled in every direction at once. They lost. After the final whistle, Jack looked over at me. His eyes were wet. He had been my teammate once — side by side on the ice for years. As he skated off the rink for the last time, he dropped to one knee on the ice, beneath the glowing scoreboard that read 2-1, and pressed his lips to the surface. I knew what it meant. Fifteen years of a career, ending in a loss. At the post-match press conference, Jax sat up at the table and fielded questions about the defeat. "The head coach has been inconsistent lately," he said. "There have been some friction points with team dynamics." He looked over at me then. "Of course, I understand. Some people express their feelings this way. I hope I'm paying attention." When a reporter asked why Lyra had made that gesture toward the opposing players, Jax went red and couldn't find a single word. Lyra, on the other hand, turned to the cameras with wet eyes, voice catching in her throat. "I only wanted to encourage our players. I never imagined it would be taken the wrong way. But it's all my fault. I let everyone down." Jax was on his feet immediately, pulling Lyra into his arms, pushing both of them squarely under the spotlight — and leaving me standing in it alone. After the press conference, Jax caught up with me in the corridor. "Is this about driving Lyra out?" "You think leaving will make me send her away — and then you'll come back, and everything goes back to the way it was. Is that it?" "You're the most powerful voice in this club. Even Sloane reads the room around you. So why can't you just let Lyra exist?" "And lately everyone's been avoiding her. She's been crying. What exactly did she do wrong? Is this really how you treat someone — just a girl you've decided to freeze out?" I stopped walking when he finished. "Jack retired today. Did you know? He said he wanted to make room for the younger generation." Jax went still. I walked away before he could answer. At the far end of the corridor, Sloane's assistant was going over next week's schedule with a few players. He gave me a nod when he saw me. The players noticed too. Their eyes caught on the moving box in my arms — and then they looked away, pretending they hadn't seen it. Everyone in the club knew I was leaving. Everyone except Jax. Just then, Lyra appeared — rushing over to Jax as he started walking toward me, throwing her arms around him. "Jax, I'm sorry. It's all my fault. You lost because of me. Fire me." Jax glanced at my retreating figure. Then he looked down at Lyra shaking in his arms, and started gently reassuring her.
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