Chapter 218: The First In History

Reid didn’t flinch. He reached up, his warm hands gently cupping my face, his thumbs smoothing away the wet tracks on my cheeks.

"It’s because someone like you loved hockey that I loved hockey, Kain," Reid whispered softly, his deep voice carrying an unshakeable, profound truth. "I watched you play. I admired you every time you stepped onto that ice. The only reason I pushed so hard through the draft, the only reason I ever wore that jersey, was so I could stand on the same line as you."

He leaned in, resting his forehead against mine, his rich pine scent wrapping around me like a shield, drowning out every panic, every piece of grief.

"Now that you’re no longer on the ice, I can no longer play with you," Reid rasped gently. "There was no need to stick with it. It’s not my whole world, Cap. I have other things I can do—and protecting you and our family is the only dream I need now."

"You’re just saying that," I sobbed, my tears spilling hot onto his hands as I held tight to his lapels.

My mind was screaming, refusing to let him downplay the magnitude of what he was doing. So that I won’t press the matter. "I’ve seen you, Reid. I’ve watched you practice until your muscles shook. You don’t just love the ice because I’m on it..."

My chest heaved as another choked sob tore out of my throat, my knuckles white against the dark fabric of his suit jacket. The sheer weight of his sacrifice was crushing me from the inside out.

"You would sacrifice so much for me..." I choked out, looking into his steady, dark grey eyes through a blur of tears. "Just... why do you love me so much?"

Reid didn’t turn away. He didn’t blink. He just shifted closer, sliding his arms under my back and shoulders to pull me tightly against his chest, holding me as if I were the only solid thing in a world spinning out of control.

"Because you gave me everything, Kain," Reid whispered into my hair, his deep voice thick with emotion. "Long before you ever knew my name, long before I ever put on a Serpents sweater, even while I was being a jerk to you and taking advantage of your secret... Watching you fight for every inch on that ice showed me what it meant to stand for something. You were my inspiration, Cap. Loving you isn’t a sacrifice. It’s the easiest thing I’ve ever done."

He leaned back just enough to look me in the eye, his thumb tenderly wiping away a fresh tear from my cheek, his scent of frozen pine wrapping around me like a warm, impenetrable fortress.

"I’m not losing a dream, Kain," Reid said softly, his voice echoing with an absolute, unshakeable finality. "My dream was only ever to stand by your side. On the ice, off the ice... as long as I have you, I have everything I could ever want."

He met my eyes, and then his gaze slowly dropped down to my lips, his breathing shallow and warm against my skin.

​In the quiet hush of the suite, the rest of the world completely faded away. There was no press conference, no legal file sitting on the bed, and no distance left between us—just the steady, grounding presence of the Alpha who had traded everything to keep me safe.

​Reid leaned in slowly, giving me every second to pull back, but I didn’t move. My fingers tightened in the fabric of his lapels as he closed the tiny gap between us, pressing his lips to mine in a kiss that was deep, soft, and aching with a fierce, quiet devotion.

It wasn’t rushed or demanding; it was a promise, tasting of tears, warmth, and an unshakeable bond that no headline or family threat could ever break.

​When he finally pulled back just a fraction, his forehead resting gently against mine, his dark grey eyes were dark with an intensity that made my heart hammer in my chest.

​"I have to leave for the airport in an hour," Reid whispered against my lips, his thumb lightly tracing the line of my jawline. "Predictably, Devin is going to lose his mind when I step onto that bus after what I said at the press conference... but I don’t care. I’m bringing that Cup back here for you, Kain."

"I believe you," I whispered back, my voice barely audible above the hum of the monitors, but carrying every drop of trust I had left to give.

Even if he didn’t end up winning, I just wanted him to play the game to the fullest, with all his heart and... Have fun.

​Reid let out a low, steady breath, pressing one more long, tender kiss to the corner of my lips before slowly pulling back. His hands lingered on my waist for a beat longer, giving me a solid, grounding squeeze before he finally stood up.

​He didn’t look at the mess of juice and glass on the floor, nor at the legal documents resting on the bed. His gaze stayed locked on mine, dark and resolute, carrying the quiet promise of a storm about to break on the ice.

​"Rest, Cap," Reid murmured softly, taking a step backward toward the suite door. "I’ll call you the second we land."

​With one final, lingering look, he turned and stepped out of the room, the heavy wooden door clicking shut behind him as he headed toward the team bus, leaving behind the warm, protective trace of frozen pine and a quiet, unshakeable peace in the air.

I placed my hand on my stomach, a rare warmth blooming in my chest.

"Baby, that’s your daddy for you," I whispered.

The two days leading up to Game 3 passed in a quiet, protected haze inside the suite.

​My siblings made it their absolute mission to keep my mind off the outside world. Kelvin and Kalvin took turns sitting on the edge of my mattress, deliberately blocking my view of any notification screens, while Chleo and Chloe confiscated my phone under strict orders from Marina.

​I didn’t argue. I didn’t need to look at the screen to know the internet was exploding. Two massive, earth-shattering headlines had dropped back-to-back: the official confirmation of our relationship, followed immediately by Reid’s sudden, shocking retirement announcement at twenty-one. Probably the first in history.

​Supporters, die-hard fans, and bitter haters were undoubtedly tearing each other apart in heated debates across sports forums and social media.

Half the hockey world was mourning the loss of the most talented rookie the League had seen in a decade, while the other half accused him of abandoning the sport.

​None of it mattered to me. I didn’t want to be a part of the noise, and I didn’t care about the opinions of people who knew nothing about the sacrifices happening behind closed doors.

​When the afternoon of Game 3 finally arrived, the entire family gathered in the room once again.

​The atmosphere was electric, thick with a nervous, breathless anticipation. This was it—the final finals. The culmination of an entire season of blood, sweat, and secret pain. By the end of the night, someone was going to raise the Stanley Cup, and every single person in that room knew what was at stake.

​My brothers adjusted the large television screen directly in front of my bed, while my mother smoothed the blanket over my lap. Marina stood near the window, her phone set to silent for the first time all week.

​I leaned back against the stack of pillows, resting my hand flat over my lower stomach beneath the covers, my pulse hammering a steady, rhythmic beat in my chest.

​On the screen, the broadcast camera panned across the opponent’s packed arena, a roaring sea of hostile fans. The pre-game graphics flashed across the screen in bold, dramatic letters: GAME 3: THE FINAL SHOWDOWN.

​Then, the camera cut to the visitors’ tunnel, and the Seattle Serpents began filing onto the ice.

​Right near the front of the line walked Reid. He wore his helmet low, his dark grey eyes fixed straight ahead, cold and unyielding. There was no hesitation in his stance, no flicker of distraction from the media circus surrounding his name. He stepped onto the ice like an Alpha preparing to claim what was rightfully his.

​"Here we go," Kelvin whispered, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

​I stared at the screen, my eyes locked on Reid’s number as he skated to the circle for the opening face-off.

​"Bring it home, Reid," I murmured softly, my heart swelling with a fierce, quiet faith. "Bring it home."

The team they were up against—the Dark Knights—filed out onto the ice in tight formation, their grey jerseys gleaming beneath the blinding arena lights.

The home crowd erupted into an absolute frenzy, a deafening wave of noise and gray-tinted rally towels waving violently across the stands. The Knights looked fierce, imposing, and completely unfazed by the media storm that had consumed the Serpents over the last forty-eight hours. They were playing on their home rink, backed by thousands of screaming fans, and hungry to drag the series to a sudden death.

On our TV screen, the camera panned across the center circle as Reid glided into position for the opening face-off.

Opposite him stood the Dark Knights’ captain, a veteran Alpha with a menacing frame and a reputation for crushing anyone in his path. The tension between them was so thick it radiated straight through the broadcast feed.