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Behind His Mask: My Hockey Alpha Novel Cover

Behind His Mask: My Hockey Alpha

Rhea Hale, a young art restorer at the old Elaria gallery, lives a life of near-perfect calm-canvases, colors, and classical symphonies that fill her every day. But when she touches a mysterious painting titled The Moon Painting, something inside her begins to shift. Strange visions, eyes watching from the fog, and wild emotions she can't explain slowly start to unravel her peaceful world. Across the city, Kaelan Viero-the national hockey team's captain-carries the charm and composure of a champion. But beneath the arena lights and public spotlight, there's a side of him he never shows... until his eyes lock with a stranger's in the stands. That brief moment sparks something long buried. And from then on, neither of their lives remains the same. "One glance started it all. And after that... there was no turning back."
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Chapter 11

(Kaelan's POV)

The air inside the car grew heavier. Outside, neon lights reflected off the windows, stretching shadows across everyone's faces. My grip on the steering wheel tightened as I tried to sync my heartbeat with the engine's rhythm.

Every kilometer we drove toward the gallery felt like walking backward into the abyss I'd once left behind.

I knew the Elders must've already sensed us. The wolfsbane those hunters used earlier wasn't some cheap brew. That mix could only be obtained through very specific channels. And if they dared to use it in an open area, it meant someone inside the pack circle had purposely leaked the access.

I shifted my gaze to the rearview mirror. Rhea sat silently in the back seat after our earlier conversation, clutching that bag so tightly the heat from it was slowly raising the temperature inside the car. Damn it. Even from here I could feel it prickling against my skin.

She looked restless. Her eyes were glossy, but there was a small fire in them-an unsettling mix of fear, confusion, and anger.

And inside me, for some reason, I wanted to make sure that fire never went out.

"You need to tell her now."

Callum's voice cut into my head through the mindlink, echoing sharp and commanding.

My jaw clenched, heat rising in my chest. "Shut your mouth, Callum."

"She has a right to know, Kaelan. You saw what happened. She's already a target. Everyone knows that key is with her. If you keep hiding it, she'll break before she ever gets the chance to face it."

I pressed harder on the gas, swerving past another car with more force than necessary.

"This is all because of you. If you hadn't dragged her into this from the start-"

"Oh, so now it's my fault?" Callum snapped back, his sarcasm sharp in my skull. "Yeah, I found the painting in the gallery. But who refused the Elder's orders to secure the artifact right away? Who said it'd be safer in a place 'out of their sight'? You. Every single choice comes back to you, Kaelan."

A low growl slipped from my throat, loud enough for Rhea to glance up briefly.

Shit. I had to keep it together in front of her.

"Listen carefully, Callum." My mindlink voice was almost a hiss. "I won't throw Rhea into the Elders' game. She's not a tool. She's not a key. She's just a human who got cursed with the Hale name and their bloodline. And I-I'll make sure she doesn't get crushed by our world."

There was a pause before Callum's voice came back, quieter this time.

"And if our world has already chosen her? Are you ready to fight everyone on your own?"

I didn't answer. Because deep down, I already knew.

***

The gallery finally came into view around the bend. An old colonial building, standing tall and proud in the narrow street, flanked by modern structures on either side. Its dusty high windows reflected the dim streetlights, like dead eyes watching anyone who dared approach.

The front lamp flickered weakly, nearly dead, while a thin mist crept across the empty courtyard, winding itself around the rusted iron fence. Even from a distance, the place radiated something off-like the building was breathing, exhaling cold air that pressed down on the chest of anyone near it.

As soon as the car stopped, the heat from Rhea's bag burst out stronger. Fog swirled across the windshield, not just blurring it, but spreading in strange web-like cracks that glowed faintly.

There it was again-that pulse. A foreign heartbeat, out of sync with any of ours. Loud. Relentless. Like it was counting down to something.

"Out," I ordered, my voice heavier than I meant.

Rhea glanced at me nervously before slowly opening her door. She still clutched the bag like letting it go would make her collapse.

Anselma got out without a sound, her raincoat fluttering lightly in the evening breeze, her face cold and still as a gravestone while she stared at the gallery. Callum, on the other hand, moved quickly, almost jittery, his shoulders stiff as his hand instinctively reached for the telescopic staff on his back.

I lingered by the car, eyes locked on the gallery doors. The wooden carvings were still the same-floral patterns framing the panels-but now cracks spiderwebbed through them, like the wood had been holding something back for too long. The aura seeping out was heavy, thick, and wrong, making the hairs on my neck stand on end.

My gaze flicked to Rhea again. She stood close by, rigid, her eyes glued to the building, her hands gripping the bag straps as if her life depended on it. And maybe... maybe it did.

"Kaelan." Anselma's voice cut through the silence, flat but sharp. "You do realize, once we step inside, there's no turning back."

I nodded slowly, eyes still fixed on the door. "I know."

Callum let out a dry, bitter laugh, turning toward me. "Then stop pretending to be her perfect protector. She needs to know what's waiting behind that door. Otherwise, she'll break even faster."

I almost snapped back, my jaw already tight, but then-

Thud... thud... thud...

The gallery doors trembled. The sound was deep, heavy, like something inside was pounding, demanding to be released. The vibration ran through the ground, making the gravel rattle against the pavement.

Rhea flinched, her face paling. I knew this was her first time seeing anything like this. Her reaction was only natural.

"What... what is that?"

I kept my eyes on the door, drawing in a sharp breath before answering quietly.

"Something that should never wake up."

Thud... thud... THUD!

This time louder, until the hinges groaned. From the cracks in the wood, a strange sound slipped out-whispers, in a language most wolves wouldn't understand. But I understood.

The language of blood.

The language of the old bloodlines.

And the worst part... Rhea was reacting. Her body trembled, pupils dilated, her breathing quickened like something invisible was pulling her soul toward it. She turned to me with panicked eyes, but there was something there-something that wasn't fully hers anymore.

I moved fast, grabbing her arm tightly.

"Rhea, listen to me! Whatever you hear, ignore it. That voice isn't for you. It's a snare. Do you understand? It's a trap!"

She shook her head quickly, tears brimming.

"I... I can hear it, Kaelan... it's calling me... Kaelan, what's happening? Why is my head so loud?"

Shit. Exactly what I was afraid of.

I turned sharply to Callum and Anselma.

"We need to go in. Now. Otherwise, the painting will open the door on its own."

And right then-CRAACK!

One of the doors split down the middle. From the crack, a cold silver light shot out-not from any lamp, but from a forged moonlight. It spread across the courtyard, blinding and freezing all at once, stretching our shadows into warped shapes across the dusty ground.

I instantly moved, stepping in front of Rhea, my body acting as her shield. My heart pounded, my muscles locking tight, ready to shift if I had to.

Whatever was waiting inside that gallery...

Tonight, it wouldn't touch her.

***

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