Chapter 216: The Name I Buried
Rhys
I ran. Like I always did when I was in trouble. The roar of the arena followed me as I skated out of the rink, but the moment the heavy doors slammed shut behind me, the sound died into a muffled, distant thrum.
I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. I continued running past the equipment manager, past the security guards who tried to call my name, and straight out into the cold, concrete expanse of the VIP parking lot.
I didn’t care about the cameras. I didn’t care if any fans or anyone saw me. I just wanted to be alone.
I found a dark corner behind a row of luxury SUVs and I collapsed. My knees hit the concrete hard, but I didn’t feel it. I couldn’t feel anything except the suffocating weight of my own name.
Derek Hamilton. It had been so long since anyone had called me that.
I curled into myself, my forehead pressing against the cold, rough brick of the arena wall, and I burst into tears. They weren’t just quiet sobs; they were violent, jagged gasps that felt like they were tearing my throat open. I clutched the front of my jersey—the Northern Avalanche jersey I had been so proud to wear—and felt like I was choking on the fabric.
"How?" I choked out, the word disappearing into the shadows. "How did he find me?"
The image of his face on that Jumbotron was a nightmare. It had been years since I last saw my father. His beard was grayer, the wrinkles on his face had grown deeper, but those obsidian eyes were the same eyes that used to watch me with a terrifying coldness when I was a child.
He had looked so fragile on screen, so broken, that no one would ever know the years I had suffered under him. Kelvin put up such a perfect, manipulative performance that anyone would be convinced I had abandoned him.
I tried to figure out how he had found me, because I had made sure I changed my identity when he was arrested. I thought I was safe. I thought Derek was dead, and now Kelvin was back in my life.
A sudden, blinding surge of white-hot rage eclipsed the sorrow I felt at that moment.
"You liar!" I screamed, the sound echoing off the low ceiling of the parking garage.
I hauled myself up and swung. My fist collided with the concrete wall with a sickening thud. Then again. And again. I didn’t care about the bones in my hand or the fact that I was an athlete who needed those fingers to hold a stick. I just wanted to break something. I wanted to feel a pain that I could actually control, something to replace the betrayal currently rotting in my chest.
"I hate you!" I punched the wall until my knuckles split, the skin tearing against the grit of the stone.
Who could have done this? I thought. Who the hell was so bent on destroying the little life I had built? I ran a hand through my hair as I thought of the one person who would go to any length just to ruin me. The one person who knew my secret, the one person who was trying to get between Rhys and me.
Rami Calder. He was the one who knew about Kelvin, and he was someone powerful enough to get that video.
I slid back down to the ground, my head between my knees. This was supposed to be my season—my way of telling the world that omegas also deserved to play and not be sidelined.
The cold air of the parking lot bit into my skin, but it was nothing compared to the ice flooding my veins. I leaned my head back against the rough concrete, my chest heaving as the weight of the last few years came crashing down on me.
I thought about every single morning I had woken up at four a.m. to hit the ice. I thought about the burning in my lungs and the bruises I had worn like a second skin just to prove I belonged here.
My hand trembled as I reached up and ran it through my sweat-soaked hair, my fingers catching on the tangles.
"All for nothing," I whispered.
I thought about the suppressants. The pills I had swallowed in secret, the constant, low-level anxiety of making sure my scent was buried under layers of synthetic blockers. I thought of the lies Leo and I had come up with, and how Rhys had supported me to get here.
And now, in five minutes of airtime, Kelvin Hamilton had stripped it all away. He hadn’t just exposed my past; he had turned my entire existence into a lie. He made it sound like I was the villain—the ungrateful son who ran away while his father "protected" him. He knew exactly what he was doing. By ousting me as an omega, he had handed the league and the fans a reason to throw me out.
Coming out was something I wanted to do by my own choice, not for anyone else.
Tears streamed down my face again. I closed my eyes, but all I could see were the faces in the stands. The pity. The disgust. The shock.
How was I going to face them again? How could I walk back into that locker room and look Theo, Luca, or Jaxson in the eye? They had so much trust in me, and now I was a freak show—the "Derek" whose father was rotting in a cell for a crime I had spent my life trying to forget.
I looked down at my hands, shaking and stained with dust and blood. Was this it? Was this the end for me?
I heard the distant sound of a heavy door creaking open, followed by the click of footsteps. It grew louder, echoing against the low concrete ceiling and heading toward me.
I didn’t raise my head. Whoever it was, I didn’t want to see the pity or the judgment on their face.