Chapter 221: Lifting the Stanley Cup
Kayden
It was finally the moment. The moment I had been waiting for ever since I started playing hockey. I heaved a deep sigh as I watched the crew roll out a long blue carpet and a heavy wooden platform.
A group of men in black suits stepped toward the platform, clearing the way.
My heart hammered in my chest, the adrenaline from the game still rushing through my veins. The stadium was roaring, the sound of thousands of cheering fans washing over me in a wave of raw emotion.
Our names were being called, and we were led onto the blue carpet beside the podium.
I watched as a man dressed in a tailored charcoal grey single-breasted suit stepped onto the platform. He stood behind a podium that had been set up, his crisp white dress shirt and French cuffs contrasting sharply against the dark fabric. He wore a simple silk tie in a deep burgundy pattern, and a small silver NHL shield pin caught the arena light.
The man was Aaron Scottfield, the NHL commissioner.
Rhys leaned closer to me. "It’s time, Kayden. Are you ready to take what’s yours?"
I nodded, my chest tight as I looked at the gleaming silver of the Stanley Cup. Aaron Scottfield stepped up to the microphone, his voice booming through the speakers as he began the presentation.
"After nine long, grueling months of competition," he began, his voice carrying through the speakers, "we have reached the pinnacle of the sport. We watched as this team battled through injuries, through doubt, and through some of the toughest opponents in the league. But through it all, the Northern Avalanche proved why they belong at the top. They didn’t just win the Cup; they conquered."
He turned slightly towards us, his expression softening with professional respect. "To the coaching staff, the fans, and most importantly, the players: congratulations on an incredible season and for bringing the championship home."
The stadium erupted in a wall of sound that made my chest vibrate. Scottfield waited for the noise to subside before he started speaking again.
"Every year, we honor the player who has shown the most heart, the most grit, and the most undeniable skill throughout the post-season," the commissioner’s voice boomed. "And for the first time in decades, this honor goes to a rookie who has redefined what it means to play this game."
He paused, and I felt the air leave my lungs. My hands started shaking, but Rhys, who was beside me, held onto one tightly.
"The Conn Smythe Trophy goes to... Kayden Vale!"
I froze immediately. That was my name. I couldn’t believe it. My feet felt like they were anchored to the ice. I couldn’t move at all until I felt a familiar warmth against my side. Rhys squeezed my hand, and I turned to face him.
"Go on, Kayden," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. "This is for you. You earned every inch of this."
I skated towards the platform in a daze, my heart racing fast. As I reached the commissioner, he held out the silver trophy.
"Incredible performance, Kayden Vale," Scottfield said, shaking my hand with a firm, dry grip. "You played with more heart than I’ve seen in a long time. Hold this with pride."
"Thank you, sir," I managed to say as tears welled up in my eyes.
Then I looked towards the crowd and raised the trophy. The crowd reacted, screaming wildly. I looked at the stands—at Rhoda and Gabriella, who were crying, Soren nodding at me with fierce pride, Rio waving at me, and Nico and Alaric clapping their hands.
Then I looked towards my teammates and smiled as Rhys mouthed a word to me: "You."
I let the tears welling in my eyes stream down as I waved the trophy happily. The atmosphere suddenly shifted, and the crowd’s roar reached a pitch that made the glass rattle in the boards. Two men in white gloves carried out the Stanley Cup.
The sight of it made me gasp. It was larger than the ones I had seen in the Avalanche trophy room. The Stanley Cup was a towering, tiered masterpiece of silver that seemed to glow with its own internal light under the arena rafters. This was the Holy Grail. This was the reason I had swallowed those bitter suppressants every morning, the reason I had lied, the reason I was here.
I stared at it, completely mesmerized. To me, this wasn’t just a trophy; it was a testament. It was proof that Derek Hamilton was dead and Kayden Vale was immortal.
Rhys stepped towards the commissioner, who faced him.
"Rhys Calder," the commissioner said, stepping back to give him room. "Come take what your team fought for."
Rhys stretched forth his hand, and when the commissioner placed the Cup into his hands, the arena exploded in a sound so loud I could feel it in my teeth. He didn’t hoist it immediately; instead, he turned to me. The joy on his face was radiant, and the only other time I had ever seen it was when he had told me that he loved me.
"You won this for us, Kayden," Rhys said as he pressed the cold silver base of the Cup into my hand. "You deserve to be the one to lift it. You deserve everything."
I blinked a tear away, and together, our hands locked on the cold silver, and we raised the Cup. Our teammates circled us and screamed with excitement. The crowd went even wilder.
I felt the vibration of the cheering fans traveling through the silver and up into my bones. We held it there, the two of us—a True Alpha and an Omega Primus holding the ultimate prize in a world that said we shouldn’t even be on the same bench.
"Yes!" Jaxson screamed as he grabbed Luca’s hand, and they started jumping around. Miller was shouting so hard his face turned red as he grabbed the base of the Cup. Theo and Philip both kissed the Cup, while Leo just stood staring at us with his usual composure until Miller dragged him forward to touch it.
I looked at Rhys, and the intensity in his gaze was enough to melt the ice beneath us. He looked at me with so much love and fierce protection that the last of my fears disappeared.
The roar of the stadium was deafening, but it all faded the second I grabbed the front of Rhys’s jersey, handed the Cup to Miller, and pulled Rhys closer until our chests were touching. Then our lips crashed together like we’d been starving for this moment—like we hadn’t just kissed a moment ago.
Rhys’s mouth was hot against mine. One of his hands came up instantly, sliding around the back of my neck, holding me there like he was afraid the world might try to pull us apart. The kiss deepened right there at the center of the ice in front of our teammates, in front of thousands of fans and the flashes of cameras that wouldn’t stop, but neither of us cared.
Rhys’s tongue brushed mine, exploring with a desperation that made my knees weak. I made a soft, embarrassing noise into his mouth, and he answered it by tilting his head and kissing me even deeper.
Jaxson’s loud scream broke us apart as it was time to take a group photo. When we finally pulled away just enough to breathe, our foreheads stayed pressed together, and he slowly whispered to me.
"We did it."
"We did it," I repeated, squeezing his hand.
"Are you ready to face the world now, softie?" Rhys asked.
I chuckled at the nickname and then nodded in response. "Yes, I am ready to face the world."