The new guy’s name was Bill. It wasn’t a bad name, but after being around so many players from so many different backgrounds and countries, I was always surprised when a Sam or a John or a Bill showed up.

Bill was dark-haired, tanned, and bearded, his face cut narrow, his cheekbones too sharp. He had these Mountain Dew colored eyes that hit something deep within me when I shook his hand for the first time.

“Wow, dude,” I said. “Those eyes.”

“Yeah?” he asked. “Was going to say the same thing about you.”

We let go of the handshake but stayed squared off, neither of us giving ground.

There was something about him.

The second-marked stopped what they were doing to watch us. As soon as we went silent, they made their way across the room and stood next to me, behind me, all of them announcing with Canidae body language that they were on my side, not his.

And that’s when it hit me.

I was staring at an alpha.

Wasn’t that interesting? I was probably supposed to do something here.

“Uh, so I’m sort of new to this.” I rubbed the back of my neck, thinking. The wolf in me wasn’t pushing yet, wasn’t angry yet, but with all the other players—

—pack—

—surrounding me, the ties that bound me to them, and each of them to me thrummed with heat, trembled with two dozen heartbeats, two dozen minds focused through me because I was—

—pack—

—alpha—

—brother father home—

—their teammate, and this is what I did. I stood between them and harm. The warmth and power of my pack filled me, calmed me, centered me.

Dude. Sweet.

“You’re alpha, right?” I asked.

He nodded, those lime-yellow eyes steady.

“Okay, good. That’s good. So, um…grr, and rawr, I guess.” Why was I making claw fingers at him? Talk about awkward.

“Look. I sort of just did this whole big thing where I told the team I was gonna alpha them. Not captain, because we have one of those, but I wasn’t gonna be ignored anymore. You know?”

I had his full attention. It was intense.

“Right, so this is new for the team and new for me, and if you want to fight me, fine. I could go for a scrap. But alpha of the team is not on the line. I’m not going to let you mess with what we’ve got. It’s a little raw and we don’t quite know how we all fit. But we belong. That’s the big thing. That’s the important thing I won’t let you fuck with.

“You can belong here. There’s room for you. But there’s only one alpha on this team. That’s me.” The wolf pressed just beneath my skin, my eyes, my voice, my words putting a little power behind that statement.

“And if I have a problem with that?” Bill asked.

I opened my mouth to tell him we’d probably have to fight or do some kind of shootout on the ice. I mean, what did alpha wolves who were also hockey players do to prove superiority? Compete for the best trick shot?

I didn’t have to say anything because Big D moved out from behind me and planted himself in front of me like a damned colossus.

“You have a problem with Spark, you have a problem with me.”

There was nothing like staring up at a six foot five mountain, who looked hungry for blood.

The Canidae behind me made noises of agreement. Even a couple of the cats chimed in which was kind of funny. Cats were so not interested in pack politics since they all thought they were the gods of the air they breathed and earth they walked. Husband Lundqvist did the whoop-de-doo circle with his finger to show just how much he cared about wolves and pack relations.

I grinned and rolled my eyes, because this team was ridiculous.

“Cats,” I said. “Whatcha gonna do?”

Bill blinked, and a sly smile curved his lips. It did a lot to soften the edges of his face. A sense of happiness and contentment rolled off him. It was a young sort of happiness. Almost puppy level. I’d misjudged his age. He was several years my junior.

“Can’t live with them,” he said, “can’t trust them with a can of tuna.”

“Oh, fuck off, Kibble and Bits,” Wife Lundqvist said.

“You understand how this works?” I pointed at myself, pointed at him.

“I have some idea.” He tipped his chin up, but his eyes held mine. Maybe that was the way an alpha gave ground. Worked for me.

“Good enough,” I said. “Welcome aboard. Welcome to the team.”

We shook again.

That broke the tension, smoothed all the ruffled fur. Everyone went back to dressing for practice. Bill took the place where Slade used to sit, right next to me. I kept an eye on him, curious. I wondered if he and I were anything alike.

He smiled easily. Fell into the locker talk that had finally started to be a regular thing around here. No one would guess this had been a silent, grim place just a few weeks ago.

As I watched the team respond to him, studying him just as closely as I was, figuring out what he was, who he was for the team, I was proud of what I’d helped make happen here.

This was a family. Well, the beginning of one. And I was proud of them accepting a new member with open minds. Or at least not with closed fists.

I had made that happen. That made me happy.

I glanced up and saw Steele looking at me. I raised an eyebrow in question and he gave me a thumbs up.

Yeah, that made me happy too.

“Spark,” Coach Nowak barked as I was headed down the hall to see if Netti was in. “My office.”

He was already walking away, storming, really, down the corridor. I followed, tracking the mood coming off him.

Fury.

He stood behind his desk and gripped the back of his chair, squeezing hard enough to pop tendons over yellow knuckles. “Sit.”

The wolf in me, the alpha in me riled. I clenched my teeth and swallowed a snarl. I was not a dog. I didn’t follow his commands.

“Naw, I’ll stand.” I tossed my helmet and gloves into the open seat and leaned on my stick. I didn’t have my skates on yet. “Problem?”

The vein in his temple throbbed and his skin tone went ruddy. I waited to see if this was going to be a fight. I wouldn’t mind. Had been wanting to get a few payback shots in for a while.

“You showed your real colors in the last game you played. Tried to kill the wizard.” The chair creaked in his grip.

I waited, careful to keep my emotions off my face. I was getting better at that.

“You are a bad penny I can’t shake. And you’re dragging this team down.”

“Trade me,” I said like I didn’t care.

“I’ll do whatever I want with you, understand? I own you.”

Boring. “All right. If that’s all you wanted, I’m going to practice now.”

“I know about the video.”

An icy sheet of panic froze over my skin.

“What video?”

“You know exactly what video, Mr. Spark.”

I waited.

“What do you want for it?” he asked.

It took me longer than it should to parse those words.

He knew I had the video of him shocking me almost to death. I hadn’t told him about it. The only other people who knew it existed were Random and Slade. Random wouldn’t have told anyone without talking to me first.

So Slade was the narc. But why would he tell Coach Nowak about it?

“What?” I said.

“I can be a reasonable man.” He squeezed the chair harder, wood snapped. “Negotiate. What do you want?”

“I want you to play me.”

“When hell freezes over,” he growled.

“You won’t be in the league that long. When that vid gets out? You’re done.” I picked up my gear. “You can kiss your career good-bye, Coach.”

Just that fast, he was on me. The punch to the head came faster than I could block.

Pain exploded through my skull. He might have thirty years on me, but he still knew how to hit.

Fucker.

I blocked the second hit. A snarl rolled up out of my chest and I slammed an elbow at his face, caught him hard, fast in the jaw. His head snapped back and he stumbled backward.

Satisfying.

I stepped toward him, but paused. This was his office. He could have hidden cameras. This could be a set up.

I spread my hands wide and took a couple more steps back, headed to the door, wanting no more fuel for his fire.

Nowak pulled himself together. He shook with fury, his face red hot, sweat peppering his skin. The seam at the shoulder of his suit jacket was ripped, his nose bleeding.

He rushed, grappled, and fucking boarded me against the wall.

I could knee him. Punch his ribs into splinters. I could throw him to the ground, maim him. Break bones. Smash his skull.

I could kill him.

A dark, hungry, angry part of me wanted that.

But it would be my end. The end of being human, of being alpha, of being me.

I was angry, but not stupid. Furious, but not suicidal.

I didn’t push, didn’t fight. I just held eye contact as he pinned both my shoulders against the wall. I could see him. See the rotted, twisted heart of him.

He was nothing. Weak. Alone.

I was all, pack, family, protector, teammate. The faint lines tied to me, these new knots of emotion and strength and power, these fragile connections thrumming with hearts and souls bolstered me, shielded me.

“You show one fucking second of that video, Spark,” spittle hit my cheek as he yelled, “and I will bury you!”

Why had I ever been afraid of him, cowed by him? He was nothing.

“Take the shot, Nowak. I’m here for the hockey.” I held eye-contact. Refused to look away.

Hatred twisted his features. The beast just under his skin squirmed to get free. There was madness in the too-wide eyes. There was insanity in the way he bared his teeth.

And then he stepped back. Kept moving until he was up against the side of the desk then stalked back behind it. Like he needed that heavy piece of furniture between us so that he didn’t jump me again.

Not that it had stopped him before.

I remained where I was. Watched him yank his chair out away from the desk. Watched him sit.

He clenched his jaw, but refused to meet my gaze.

“Get the fuck out of my office.”

I picked up my helmet and gloves and left.

The arena door burst open with a rubber stamp punch as I strode outside, breathing hard. I needed air, needed sky, needed the smell of something other than the concrete of the arena, the sweat, the stale scent of ice.

The team was with me, their concern, their worry riding those new ties. It tasted like butterscotch and peanut brittle in my mouth.

I thought calm thoughts, filled myself with blue sky and clouds, soothed their worry. I was fine. We were fine. Everything was fine.

I pulled out my phone and dialed.

“Clay.” Coach Clay’s tone was clipped, but warm. A wave of homesickness washed over me.

“So I was thinking,” I started.

“Spark?”

“Who did you think it was?”

“You’ve never called me before. I had no idea.”

“Oh. Hi. It’s me. Duncan. You should update your contacts list.”

“Get to the point, kid. I’m aging.”

“Two things. One, you need to reach out to Icarus Slade.”

“The right wing?”

“He’d fill the hole you have in the third line.”

“You know what I’m thinking?”

“That I’m brilliant?”

“That I don’t remember asking for your advice.”

“Lucky I gave it for free, huh?”

“Why are you pushing Slade at me?”

“It’s…” I scrubbed at my jaw. “All honesty, Coach?”

“I prefer it.”

“He’s a good guy. A fantastic player. All fire and fight. I like him and he got cut from the team because of me. He shouldn’t get the shaft just because Coach Nowak wants to bust my skull.”

There was silence on the line. It went on long enough I pulled the phone away from my ear and made sure we were still connected.

“Coach?”

“Has Nowak hurt you?”

“Okay. Here’s the second thing.”

“Son-of-a-bitch,” he seethed.

“Just. Listen. I have a video. Slade had his phone out on that first day I showed up for practice.”

“All right?”

“I mouthed off, so I got a bag skate. Then Nowak pulled out his stun prod.”

The breathing on the other end of the phone disappeared. He was holding his breath.

“He used it on me. A lot. Not just once.”

“How many times?” His words were tight, stretched thin.

“Until I passed out.”

An animal roar blistered through the connection. There was a loud pop and then the call went dead.

Holy crap. Had I just witnessed Coach losing his shit? I so had to tell Random. This was epic. Now I wished I’d done this in person. I’d never seen him go violent face-to-face.

I dialed back. It rang and quickly dumped to voice mail.

I pocketed my phone and took a couple minutes to run the conversation back through my mind. From Clay’s reaction, he hadn’t known about the video. So Slade hadn’t told him.

My phone rang.

“Duncan?” Not Clay. It was Graves.

“Hey, Gravedigger.”

“So. Clay’s phone is demolished. He’s going to talk to you on my phone now. On speaker.”

In the background I heard, “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Haws. Give me your damn phone.”

“You’re on speaker, kid,” Graves said. “Talk.”

“Uh…Coach?”

“I’m still here.” His voice had a lot of gravel in it. “It’s just Graves and me in my office. You can talk.”

“Okay, like I was saying, Slade is going to get picked up by a team. I’m sure of it. You’d be smart to reach out to him first and fill that third line hole.”

Clay went silent again, but not for long. “I’ll talk to Slade.”

“Yes!”

“Tell me about the video, Duncan.”

“Coach Nowak doesn’t want me here. He punished me for taking Hazard away from him. I let it go too far.”

“Duncan. This is not your fault.”

“I know. But I should have been smarter about what he might do. I’m used to mouthing off to you and getting sentenced to meditation retreats.”

“Noted. Has anything else happened? Has he hurt you in any other way?”

“Nothing I have on video.”

“Bad answer, kid,” Graves said. “Hold on.”

It sounded like the phone was set down, then I heard movement. Someone was pacing. There was a thump like a fist hit a wall, the bang of something metal taking a blow.

I couldn’t tell what was happening and wished I was there in the room with them. Sharing something like this over the phone really sucked.

Then I heard Graves’s low voice, the tone of it soothing even if I couldn’t hear the words. The pacing stopped. There was breathing, one too ragged that finally slowed to match the other’s tempo. It was only for a minute or so, then they were back.

“I’m taking over the questions now,” Graves said. “Coach Clay is sitting right here. Sitting,” he instructed, “Right. Here. In his chair.”

I heard the chair creak and moan as Clay apparently did as he was told, then Graves was back again.

“You have a video of Nowak using the stun prod on you after a bag skate. Were you shifted?”

“No.”

“You blacked out?”

His matter-of-fact tone put me at ease. Made this seem like less of a trauma, and more of a problem we could solve.

“Yes.”

“Is the vid on your phone?”

“Yes.”

“Send it to me. I’ll wait.”

I navigated to my downloads and forwarded the file to him. I heard a ding.

“All right. I have it. Now, have you watched it?”

“No.”

“Do you know who filmed it?”

“Slade. Um, Icarus Slade. He was a player on the Tide.”

“I’m familiar. Nowak did other things to hurt you. Physically?”

“Yeah. Just a scrap or two. Nothing worse than any other hockey fight.”

“He hit you.” Graves’s voice was still matter of fact, but there was a cold, steel edge creeping into it.

“Yes.”

“Anything else?”

“It’s…no…I don’t think it counts. Nothing else.”

“Let me decide if it counts.”

“They, um…he…everyone ignored me.” It sounded like the stupidest complaint. Something a kindergartner would say.

“How?”

“No one spoke to me. No one looked at me. I wasn’t allowed to run drills even when I was on the ice. No one touched me. I know those are dumb things to bring up—”

“Stop,” Graves said. “You are a Canidae shifter. A wolf. You need a tactile environment.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like I need a team hug fest.”

“Not what we’re talking about here, kid. Okay. Now, I want you to know I’ve heard you. Coach Clay has heard you too. We’re with you on this. All the way. Understand?”

I felt my shoulders drop. “Yes.”

“Who knows about the video?”

“Slade, me, Hazard…” I heard Coach sigh, “…you, Coach Clay, and Nowak.”

“What?” That was Coach Clay. “Oh, fuck no. Pack your bags, Spark. I’m coming to bring you back.”

“That’s not going to happen, Coach.” I could tell, even over the phone, that my tone of voice surprised him.

“You don’t get to decide what happens here,” Coach said.

“Yes. I do. This is my career. And right now, this is my team. Nowak isn’t going to do anything to me now that he knows the video’s out there. I’m just as safe here as I would be at home.”

“Underestimating Nowak is a fool’s game, Duncan. You don’t know the lengths he will go to make a problem disappear.”

“See, I think I really do.”

“I’m taking that video to the commissioner,” he said.

“All right.”

“All right? That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

“You can take it to the commissioner. Maybe he’ll listen to you. Maybe he won’t. But no matter how it shakes out, while I’m on this team, I’m playing hockey. Nowak can’t touch me. Not with what I have on him.”

He exhaled, the sound of it loud. “Jesus the balls on you, kid. Don’t do anything stupid.”

I laughed.

“Duncan.” His tone was firm. “I’m not leaving you there. Remember that. You’re a Thunderheads. You will always be a Thunderheads. You’re coming home.”

“Yes, Coach.”

“And if he lays a damn finger on you, you will call me.”

“On your broke-ass phone?”

“I’ll get a new one.”

“Okay. And you’ll call Slade?” I asked.

“Dog with a bone.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes.”

“Thanks, Coach.”

“Stay smart, Spark.”

I ended the call and texted Slade’s number to Graves. That done, I headed into practice.