Page 32 of Puck Your Neighbor

Time seems to slow down as the puck sails through the air. It hits the back of the net.

The buzzer sounds.

We won!

The crowd goes insane, the noise deafening. My teammates mob me, screaming and cheering. I can barely hear myself think. I did it. I got a hat trick.

But the only thing I really care about is getting back to Anya.

I scan the bench area and spot her, still smiling, her eyes shining with excitement. I make my way over. "Hey," I say, my voice a little hoarse. "You were amazing, cheering us on. Our lucky charm."

She blushes and ducks her head, but she still smiles. She signs, "Thank you. You played so well."

"We won it for you." I want to stay here, just basking in her presence, but I know the guys are waiting, and there's the post-game protocol to get through. "Listen," I say, "I need to head to the locker room. But if you come with me, I can get you somewhere safe, away from the crowd."

I take hold of her hand, the contact sending a jolt through me, and lead her down to the Hall for our dressing room and everything else. She hesitates for a moment, as we draw near, her eyes darting around at the fans who press in closer near the Hall entrance. Some are calling my name, holding up jerseys and pucks for me to sign. I whistle sharply, and motion for Jenson and Leo to come over. It'll take all three of us to get through this crowd.

Jenson and Leo quickly join us, their eyes widening when they see the throng of fans. We form a protective barrier around Anya, shielding her from the worst of the crowd.

"Alright, everyone," I say, raising my voice to be heard. "I'll be right back out to sign autographs and take pictures. Just need to make sure my friend here is okay first."

A few groans of disappointment, but most of the fans seem to understand. With Leo and Jenson clearing a path, we slowly make our way through the excited crowd, their hands and voices reaching for us. I keep a firm grip on Anya's hand, my inner alpha soothed by her closeness.

Ours. Safe.

We finally reach the relative quiet of the players' tunnel. We lead Anya to a small, private room near the locker rooms— the family room. It's where players' families and friends can wait during and after games.

"You okay?" I ask, once we're inside.

She nods, and signs, "Thank you. It's a bit much out there."

"Yeah, it can get crazy after a game," I agree. "You're safe in here, though. No one will bother you."

I gesture around the room. It's small, but comfortable, with a couple of couches, a TV, and a small table with some snacks and drinks.

"Just text one of us if you need anything, okay?" I say.

She nods, a small smile playing on her lips. She signs, "Go. Have fun."

I chuckle. "We'll try."

We each give her a kiss and then leave to head back to the fans and the chaos.

After the media interviews, which are mostly a blur of questions about the hat trick, we finally escape the press room. Leo, Jenson, and I practically sprint towards the family room, eager to get back to Anya.

As we approach, we hear voices. One, we recognize as Anya's robotic text-to-speech, but the other is male, unfamiliar, and unwelcome. My inner alpha bristles, a low rumbling growl enters my chest.

We push open the door. Anya sees us, but he doesn't.

A man, tall and slim, with slicked-back hair and a predatory smirk, stands over Anya, his body language aggressive. He holds out his phone as it records, clearly a journalist who's managed to sneak in here.

"...just a few questions, love." His voice drips with false charm. "About the Salama case. It's a big story, you know. Ten-year anniversary just passed. People want to know how you're doing. And, of course, about your relationship with the Gold Trio. Quite the catch for a little omega like you, isn't it?"

She gives us a look to wait before she types on her phone. It takes everything in me not to grab him by the back of his neck and slam his head through the wall.

Anya's robotic voice replies, "I have no comment on the Salama case. As for my relationship with the Gold Trio, I am very happy with my mates. I would appreciate it if you would respect my privacy and leave me alone now."

The man chuckles, a condescending sound that makes my blood boil. "Come on, sweetheart, don't be like that. Just a few questions. It'll be good for your mates' image, too. Show they're taking care of a survivor-"

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