“You sure?” Hazard leaned against the corridor wall, trying to look casual and not like he wanted to grab me, stuff me in the trunk of a car, and drive me across state lines.

“Yes. Stay out here. This is something I need to do alone.”

He scowled.

“You’ll be right here,” I pointed out. “Even with your puny wizard hearing abilities, you’ll know if something goes wrong.”

“Fine,” he agreed. His eyes flashed gold.

Wizards. Such drama queens.

I slapped him on the shoulder and made a face at him. Then I turned and walked to the Tide locker room to face my soon-to-be—

—pack—

—ex-teammates.

They heard me coming. Of course they did. I could feel them, all those strings connecting us, tying us together. I could taste their worry, their anger, their disappointment, and it was my own.

They were my team, my pack, my hockey heartbeat. And I was leaving them behind.

The wolf in me howled.

I strolled into the room. Everyone was here at their lockers because practice would start in about a half hour. They were all looking at me. Even the cats were paying attention.

“First, don’t interrupt me, because I can’t do this twice.” I swallowed, my mouth already too dry. The wolves shifted, uncomfortable and wanting to be near me.

Steele nodded. “Go ahead.”

“I hated you. All of you. Because you were our rivals on the ice and because you targeted my brother early in the year and tried to take him down. I couldn’t forgive you for that.”

I held Steele’s gaze until he flushed and looked away.

“But I thought I could come here and find a way to at least tolerate you so we could play hockey together. So we could be a team.

“I did not expect to fall in damn alpha love with you assholes.”

Paski scoffed and Husband Lundqvist chuckled.

The tension broke and bled out of the room.

“I blame all of you for that. Mostly Paski and Zima, who gave me such a warm, friendly welcome, I could feel it for days. And partly Kudrar, who was the first to nut up and fucking shake my hand. And totally the rest of you who have been dealing with a shitshow around here all year and haven’t given up on this game, this team, or each other.

“I’m proud as hell to be a Tide.” I blinked, and there was wetness at the corner of my eyes. “And I’m proud as hell of this team.

“But this is the end of the line for me. I’m going home, boys and ladies. Back to the Thunderheads.”

I knew they’d been told, but there was still anger and shock running through our pack connection.

“Today’s the day I say good-bye. C’mere, Dollar.”

Bill looked surprised, but he strolled over. I guided him to stand next to me. Then I draped my arm over his shoulder.

“All right, team. This here is Bill, also known as Dollar. He’s the new guy on the team, and he’s an alpha. I find myself threatened by his presence.”

Bill snorted.

“Threatened,” I said louder, “by his presence. So we’re going to fight for the right to be alpha of the Tide.”

Bill tensed under my arm. I could feel his heartbeat rise. Not in fear. No, he liked this idea of taking me down. As a matter of fact, he loved it.

Before he got it in his head to punch me, I stuck my free hand toward him handshake-style. “Dollar Bill, I declare a thumb war.”

The room came unglued. Everyone surged to their feet, surrounding us as if we were in a boxing ring, hooting and whistling. Bill and I broke apart, and circled each other, bouncing on our toes, throwing fake jabs like we were about to go for the heavyweight championship.

Bill was grinning like a fool. I was pretty sure I was too.

Steele pushed his way through the bodies to drop a hand on our shoulders. “All right, gentlemen, I want a fair fight. No kicking, no lifting, no hitting below the belt. No eye-gouging, ear-biting, or hair-pulling. Ready?”

We leaned in and clasped hands, thumbs up.

“Go!”

We stared straight into each other’s eyes and intoned the pre-game chant. “One, two, three, four, I declare a thumb war.”

I winked at the alpha in front of me, tipped my chin, and let my eyes slide to the battle of the thumbs.

I lost, of course.

Bill was a terrible sport and rubbed the victory in my face with plenty of insults.

I laughed at him and made my rounds, a hug here, a back-slap there, a handshake or two, soft “good-lucks” and strong “good-byes”.

Bill was right behind me, touching a shoulder as I let go, getting that wolf head tip, making the pack connections I could already feel fading away inside me.

My wolf keened at the loss. At the loneliness. It hurt.

And then there was a hand on my shoulder—

—Brother, pack, home—

—and another on my neck—

—Father, pack, home—

—and one on my arm—

—Mother, pack, home—

—and one more on my other shoulder—

—Coach, pack, home—

Because of course they were all here: Random, my parents, and Coach Clay. They were my pack. They were my family.

They wrapped around me, held me close, got me moving out of the room. Which was good. The world had gone a little watery and no matter how hard I blinked away wetness, I still couldn’t see.

“We got you,” Random said. “You’re ours. You’re mine, and I’m never letting you do something this stupid again.”

I coughed a snotty laugh and wiped my leaking face all over his shirt. He pushed my head away and told me I was disgusting. Then he magicked up some floating lights that popped like bubble wrap when I poked at them.

“Let’s get some food before we hit the road,” Dad said. “We’ve already packed your stuff and spoken to your landlords.”

I wrapped one arm around Mom’s back, and one around Random’s and followed my family home.