Page 102 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

His hand rises toward his face, and his chest expands with one deep, shuddering breath, his eyes closing as his fingers curl around the blood-soaked fabric.

My stomach plummets.

"No," I choke out. "Please. Don't do this for me. No, no, no⁠—"

He tears off his mask.

Chapter 20

Wraith

Ivy is here.

I feel her somewhere in that crowd, hidden in plain sight, drawing my eyes to a section where I can somehow sense her.

Maybe because I'm feral.

Who the fuck knows.

She's watching me destroy Wade in the only way she’ll let me.

She kissed my face in that storage room.

She called me her mate.

She looked at every horrifying inch of what I am and loved me anyway.

If I can't breathe through the fucking mask, I can't play.

If I can't play, I can't protect her.

My mask, or my mate.

There's no fucking contest.

The fabric rips away from my face in a single pull. Cold arena air hits skin that hasn't been exposed in public since I was a kid. The sensation is so fucking wrong that for a moment I can't process anything else.

Then the sound hits me.

Or the absence of it.

The silence is so complete, I can hear the ice crackling beneath my skates.

Twenty thousand people seeing what I really am.

Warm blood streams down my face, coating my teeth.

I must look like something from a nightmare.

But I can breathe.

The silence shatters into shouts and gasps. Thousands of people horrified at once. Phones rise in a wave, flash strobing. Kids scream and cry.

That hurts the most.

This is the end.

The last game I'll ever play.