Rejected By My Hockey Alpha

Penelope's POV

I shouldn't be here.

The thought echoes in my mind as I huddle deeper into my worn jacket, pressing myself against the cold brick wall outside the Frostfang Ice Stadium. My physics textbook digs into my ribs where I clutch it, but nothing can protect me from what I'm about to witness.

"Just a quick peek," I whisper to myself, the same lie I've been telling for months. "Just to see him skate."

Lyra, my wolf, whimpers softly in my mind. This isn't healthy, Penelope. You're torturing yourself.

But I can't stop. Timothy Blackthorn is like staring at the sun; he is dangerous, impossible, and utterly irresistible. For three years, I've watched him from the shadows of lecture halls and cafeteria corners, memorizing the way he moves, the sound of his laugh, the casual confidence that radiates from him.

The service entrance I've been using to sneak peeks at practice sessions is slightly ajar tonight. Through the gap, I can see into the equipment room where players sometimes change before heading home. My heart hammers against my ribs as I lean closer, knowing I should leave, knowing this is wrong, but unable to resist.

That's when I see them.

Timothy has Madison Sawyer pressed against the equipment lockers, her perfectly manicured hands tangled in his dark hair. She's everything I'm not: is tall, confident, from a respected Beta family. Her designer clothes are scattered across the floor.

"You're so good to me, Timothy," Madison purrs, her voice breathy with desire. "Better than any of those other boys could ever be."

He chuckles, low and rough. "You know exactly what you're doing, don't you?"

My stomach plummets to my feet. I should look away. I should run. But I'm frozen, watching the boy I've secretly loved for years worship another girl's body like she's a goddess.

"Tell me I'm the only one," Madison demands, arching against him. "Tell me I'm special."

Timothy's response is muffled against her neck, but I catch enough. "You're incredible, Madison. Absolutely incredible."

The textbook slips from my numb fingers, hitting the concrete with a sharp crack that echoes through the tunnel. Both heads snap toward the sound, and for one horrifying second, Timothy's storm-blue eyes meet mine through the crack in the door.

Recognition flashes across his features, not the kind I've dreamed about, but the cold awareness that the weird Omega girl has been watching him. His expression shifts from surprise to something worse: pity mixed with disgust.

I run. My sneakers slap against the pavement as I flee through the back parking lot, tears already burning my eyes. Behind me, I hear Madison's tinkling laugh and Timothy's mumbled explanation probably calling me a stalker or a freak. The words I imagine he's saying cut deeper than any object could.

Pathetic little Omega.

Delusional nobody.

As if someone like her could ever interest me.

By the time I reach the bus stop, I'm sobbing so hard I can barely see. The other passengers