Sloane’s POV
Exams in one week have the whole campus suspended in a weird, twilight state of quiet panic, even me, with a stack of heavy textbooks open on my lap. Across the rink, ice hockey practice is in full swing, not a real game, just line drills, shooting practice, and players blowing off steam between study sessions.
Down on the ice, Xavier glides through a drill with effortless precision, his dark jersey heavy on his broad shoulders. Number 9.
I trace the line of his back with my eyes. For the past week, Xavier has mostly kept a respectful distance to give me space, but during those first three excruciating days immediately after Zia rejected V, he never left my side.
Through Moros, he helped anchor my wolf, wrapping me in a quiet, steady warmth while Zia healed from the raw te
