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Hayden was slumped on the bench in the locker room, a damp towel around his neck.
Shane was sitting two stalls down, still in his compression gear. His phone was held low and tilted away, like he was guarding state secrets. He tapped the screen, then typed something else. He ducked his head, his shoulders curling inward as if he could hide the entire moment inside his chest.
Then, like he’d felt the weight of Hayden’s stare, he turned his body toward the lockers to block the screen completely.
This was new. Shane Hollander did not hide things. Shane was the guy who left his laptop open on airplanes, trusting the general goodness of humanity.
And the blushing - yep, that was definitely a blush creeping up his neck.
A cold stone dropped into Hayden’s stomach.
So it was real. Lily. The girlfriend. The mysterious, never-seen, always-vaguely-mentioned Lily.
Hayden had tried, at first, to be normal about it. To be happy for his best friend. Shane deserved someone. The guy had spent most of his life being politely alone in crowded rooms.
But Lily was… fuzzy.
Hayden still didn’t know where she lived, how they’d met, or why every time he asked a perfectly normal question - What’s she like? Is she coming to a game? - Shane would offer an evasive answer and change the subject.
She’s private, Shane had said once.
Sure. Fine. Some people are private.
But people aren’t this private. And people definitely don’t text during cooldowns, at midnight, at dawn, between periods, and in the middle of team dinners.
Hayden watched Shane shove his phone into his locker and grab his hoodie.
“Good skate today,” Hayden said, aiming for casualness.
Shane startled, as if he’d forgotten other humans were present. “Oh - yeah. You too.”
There it was again. That half-second delay.
Maybe Lily was… intense and liked schedules and control. Maybe she liked Shane because Shane was nice, generous, and successful, and had probably never even thought the words ‘go to hell’ in his entire life.
Hayden pictured this Lily, a faceless silhouette, leaning in to tell Shane what to eat, what to drink, to “focus on what really matters.” To suggest maybe he didn’t need to spend so much time with the team. Or with Hayden.
The thought made his jaw tighten.
Shane was naive and wildly trusting. He believed people when they said they cared. He gave too much.
And Lily probably saw a kind man with money, fame, and a heartbreakingly earnest heart, and thought: mine.
Hayden watched Shane laugh at something a rookie said. For a moment, he felt ridiculous.
Then Shane’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He didn’t even pretend to ignore it. His hand dove for it on instinct.
Yeah. No.
Hayden made a decision.
Asking Shane directly would just make him shut down. Push too hard, and you’d get nothing but pleasant smiles forever.
But observing was different. It was caring, with a side of espionage.
And if this Lily person turned out to be exactly as suspicious as she seemed…
Well. Hayden Pike was excellent at protecting his people. Even from girlfriends they’d apparently conjured from the digital mist.
~
The athletic shopping centre was less of a store and more of a temple where people worshipped money. Hayden had never been comfortable in places like this - everything was gleaming white and glass, and the sales associates looked like they’d been hired from a secret society of overly attractive librarians.
The team had been dumped here after practice for “equipment upgrades,” which mostly meant everyone wandering around holding items that cost more than Hayden’s first car.
Berke was already waving a watch in the air. “Liv says if I don’t bring home something shiny, this trip was an insult to her.”
Wilson snorted. “That bag looks like it could stop a bullet.”
Gagnon nodded solemnly. “Don't they say beige is in this season?”
Hayden was half-listening, nodding along, until -
“I was thinking of getting something for Lily,” Shane said, holding up a scarf so soft it probably had its own bodyguard. It was elegant and outrageously expensive.
“Isn’t that, like, two thousand dollars?” Wilson asked, peering at it.
Shane shrugged. “She’d like it.”
Hayden stared.
Two. Thousand. Dollars. For a long piece of fancy cloth. This was appeasement-level gifting.
They drifted through the store, the conversation swirling around jewelry and shoes. Shane stayed quiet, occasionally murmuring things like, “She doesn’t do flashy,” or “She prefers quality.”
The code was becoming clear. This was princess behavior.
Eventually, Shane drifted toward a quiet corner by the windows, phone already in his hand.
Hayden pretended to be fascinated by a rack of jackets as he angled himself just enough to eavesdrop.
Shane’s voice dropped. “Yeah, I’m here.”
He took a pause.
“No, I didn’t forget.”
Hayden’s internal alarm system switched from ‘caution’ to ‘mild panic.’
“I know. I promise.”
Shane shifted his weight, glancing out the window. “Princess?” he said.
Hayden froze.
Princess.
Oh, hell no.
“I’m looking,” Shane continued. “Something you’d actually wear.”
There was a breathy laugh. “You don’t need to worry about that.”
Princess. Worry. Money.
It all snapped into an obvious picture. Slick black cars. Men in suits with no sense of humor. A young woman, raised in gilded danger, trapped in an arranged marriage, spotting sweet, wealthy, famously nice Shane Hollander like a life raft.
That was the sound of emotional manipulation in progress.
“Yeah,” Shane said, turning slightly away. “I’ll handle it.”
Handle what?
His voice dropped even lower. “I told you, that’s not how it works here.”
Here.
As in, outside of her home territory. As in, outside the reach of her… family.
Shane nodded, as if the person on the phone could see him. “I know. I know what you expect.”
Oh, god. It was worse than he’d imagined.
“I’m not scared,” Shane said. “I just want to do this right.”
Sweat prickled between Hayden’s shoulder blades. Do this right. As in… secure her freedom? Arrange a marriage of convenience? Provide Canadian citizenship?
Shane sighed. “No. I’m not backing out.”
Backing out of what? A blood oath? A dowry agreement? A deal with literal mobsters?
“Don’t say that,” Shane’s voice softened into something unbearably tender. “I care about you.”
Hayden had seen the movies. He knew how this ended. There was always a vintage car chase and a lot of regrettable decisions.
Shane glanced back toward the group, then away again. “We’ll talk later. Okay?”
Hayden watched him return, heart thumping a frantic rhythm against his ribs.
Shane looked… normal. A little flustered. A little pink at the tips of his ears.
“So,” Berke said, “you getting the scarf?”
Shane hesitated for only a second. “Yeah. I think so.”
Hayden forced a strained smile onto his face.
Inside, his thoughts were a screaming chorus of Bratva Princess.
There was no other explanation. This Lily wasn’t just a girlfriend. She was Bratva royalty with a taste for luxury scarves.
And Shane was about to be emotionally dismantled, financially drained, and probably married for geopolitical reasons.
~
Hayden was not scared. Fear was for people who weren't paying attention. Which was why he was sitting ramrod-straight on the couch, eyes laser-locked on the TV screen where ominous fog was doing a very poor job of hiding a suspiciously gothic castle.
Dracula was old. Practically a historical documentary. It was barely even a horror movie.
Hayden did not flinch when the music swelled with a dramatic shriek of violins.
He did not flinch when the camera lovingly zoomed in on a set of very pointy teeth.
He did not flinch when a shadow slithered across a wall in a way shadows definitely should not move.
He merely adjusted his death-grip on the throw pillow he was holding.
"Relax, Pike," Wilson drawled from the other end of the couch. "It's, like, fake old. The special effects are probably just ketchup."
Hayden snorted. "Obviously. I'm completely relaxed." His voice came out a little higher than intended.
On screen, a woman in a nightgown screamed with impressive lung capacity.
Out of the corner of Hayden's eye, a different horror story was unfolding. Shane was sitting a little apart from the group, legs tucked up, a blanket draped neatly over his lap like a fortress of cozy. He checked his phone, the movement so discreet it was basically covert ops. The cold blue light from the screen lit up his face in the dark room.
Hayden saw the exact moment Shane forgot there was a movie playing, forgot his teammates, forgot everything. His shoulders lost their usual captain's stiffness. His mouth curved into a small smile that had no business being that soft.
A second later, Shane's phone buzzed again. Shane flinched, glanced around the room, clearly checking if anyone had noticed.
Berke grinned, a shark smelling blood in the water. "Someone's popular tonight."
Shane cleared his throat, already looking trapped. "Uh - I just need to step out for a second. A minute. Maybe two."
"Ooooh," Gagnon sing-songed, wiggling his eyebrows. "Captain's got a booty call."
Shane turned the color of a ripe tomato. "It is not a - "
"Sure, Captain," Wilson said with fake sincerity. "We believe you. It's probably just your grandma. Calling about… casseroles."
Shane shook his head, a flustered smile on his face as he stood. "You're all the worst. I'll be back."
He grabbed his hoodie and slipped out into the hallway, the door clicking shut softly behind him.
Hayden stared at the closed door. On the screen behind him, Dracula emerged from the shadows with a flourish of his cape. Hayden's skin prickled with a whole new kind of unease.
Shane was leaving in the middle of movie night. Again. Always at night. Why was it always at night?
He began to connect dots. All the times Shane had dipped out early from team hangouts. All the hushed, late-night phone calls he'd take on the balcony. All the mornings Shane had shown up to practice with dark circles under his eyes that spoke of missed sleep.
Shane, who used to guard his eight-hour sleep schedule with the ferocity of a dragon guarding gold.
On screen, a pale hand reached out to brush a woman's throat.
Dracula leaned in, his intentions very clear.
Only at night. The thought echoed in Hayden's head. Lily only seemed to operate under the cover of darkness.
Hayden shifted on the couch, his heart rate picking up for reasons that had nothing to do with fictional vampires. He remembered the marks. The ones he'd seen once, completely by accident, in the locker room when Shane had bent down to tie his skates and his collar had shifted. Pinkish discolorations on the side of his neck.
Hayden's stomach had dropped then, too. He'd assumed they were hickeys. A little embarrassing, sure, but normal for a guy with a girlfriend. He'd teased Shane about it later, and Shane had muttered something about being clumsy.
But…
What if they weren't hickeys?
What if they were… puncture wounds?
The thought hit him with the force of a slap shot to the chest. He nearly missed the jump scare on screen - a bat transforming with a loud screech.
Dracula bared his teeth.
Lily only called at night.
Lily was never around during the day.
Lily valued her privacy above all else.
Lily called Shane "Princess."
Princess of the night.
Oh, for the love of…
Hayden's eyes snapped to the snack table. Shane's contribution to the spread was still sitting there, untouched by him - a bowl of mixed nuts, a little tub of Greek yogurt, one of those green smoothies that tasted like blended lawn.
All of them were rich in calcium, protein, and iron.
Nutrients important for… blood production.
Hayden's breath went shallow. Shane had been avoiding junk food lately. Cutting back on sugar. Barely touching alcohol. What if it wasn't just performance nutrition? What if it was… dietary preparation?
On screen, Dracula did what Dracula does.
Hayden squeezed the pillow so hard he feared for its stitching.
What if Shane was into it? Did he have a blood kink?
Hayden wanted to bleach that thought from his brain. Shane Hollander. Team Captain. Possibly consensually offering himself up like some kind of free-range, artisanal blood donor.
"Pike," Wilson muttered, tossing a piece of popcorn at him. "You good, man? You're sweating. It's a black-and-white movie."
"Peachy," Hayden said, too fast.
Another shriek ripped from the television speakers. Dracula loomed, his eyes glowing with unnatural hunger.
Hayden Pike, loyal best friend, had just realized his best friend might be romantically involved with a vampire.
Worse - he might be her favorite juice box.
~
The losing streak was bad. Hayden hated losing, obviously, but he had a built-in reset button waiting for him at home: Jackie, who would logically explain why the other team's strategies were flawed, and the kids - Jade demanding to know why hockey players "simply didn't try harder," Ruby reenacting goals in the hallway with alarming intensity, Arthur crying whenever the puck went the wrong way, and Amber just quietly chewing on something she definitely wasn't supposed to have.
Shane didn't have that.
Rose was out of town for some charity gala thing. And Lily - whoever, whatever, she was - had been suspiciously absent during this slump. Shane hated losing more than anyone Hayden knew. Losing made him go quiet and made him fold in on himself like a piece of paper. It made him spiral into a self-critical analysis that could last for days.
So Hayden did what any good best friend would do. He went to check on him.
He expected to find Sad Shane. Maybe Tense Shane. Possibly Self-Flagellating Shane, pacing his apartment.
What he did not expect was…
Serene Shane.
Shane opened the door looking freshly showered. He smiled when he saw Hayden.
"Hey," Shane said, stepping back to let him in. "You okay?"
Hayden stared, his disaster-senses tingling.
Behind Shane, the apartment was… glowing. The sweet scent of something herbal - lavender? sage? - hung in the air. On the kitchen counter, on the coffee table, along the windowsill… candles.
"You look," Hayden said, stepping inside as if entering a crime scene, "weirdly good. Did you nap?"
Shane laughed, running a hand through his hair. "I - uh - no. Lily, she, um. She arranged dinner. For us."
Shane gestured vaguely toward the dining table, which was set for one with what looked like real china. "She thought it might help me relax after… you know. Everything."
A specially arranged "relaxation" dinner. In the middle of a losing streak.
What if she wanted him calm and pliant? What if this was phase two of the vampire-witch assimilation process? They'd been losing ever since Dracula movie night when Shane had slipped out to talk to her.
"Oh," Hayden said, his eyes scanning the room for hex bags or holy water. "She… arranged it."
"Yeah," Shane said, suddenly shy, looking at the floor. "She said I needed to remember to take care of myself. That I get too in my head."
Hayden's thoughts snapped to a memory from just last week: his living room, Jade and Ruby watching Hansel and Gretel, the witch smiling a terrifying smile as she offered candy to the lost children. To the endless repeats of Narnia, where the White Witch promised warmth and safety and endless Turkish delight.
Promises always came before the trap. Kindness before the consumption.
"Do you, uh," Hayden said, his eyes darting back to the dancing candle flames, "do this often?"
Shane blinked. "What, order dinner?"
"No," Hayden said, taking another cautious step forward. "The whole setup. The ambiance. The ritualistic lighting."
Shane glanced around his own apartment as if seeing it for the first time. "Not really? I mean, I light candles sometimes. It's nice."
"Do the candles," Hayden pressed, "mean anything specific? Are they a particular scent? Frankincense? Myrrh? The blood of your enemies?"
Shane frowned. "They're lavender and vanilla. From the pharmacy. Are you okay?"
Hayden forced a smile that felt more like a grimace. He moved closer to the table, inspecting the spread.
"How did she tell you to light them?" Hayden asked, as casually as a man about to hyperventilate could manage. "Like… was there an order? Did she say to start in the east and move west? To encircle the dwelling?"
Shane's brow creased in confusion. "Hayden."
"Clockwise or counterclockwise?" Hayden asked, urgency creeping in. "It's important."
"Why on earth would that matter?"
It mattered in rituals! In incantations! In spells designed to lower defenses and ensnare the soul!
"What time did she tell you to eat?" Hayden fired off his next question.
"After practice," Shane said.
"Specific time? Like, on the stroke of seven? As the moon rose?"
"No."
Hayden exhaled a small breath of relief for half a second.
"But she said not to rush it," Shane added, his tone softening again at the memory. "To savor it."
Hayden nearly sat down right there on the floor.
Be present. Savor it. Grounding language. Mindfulness-coded. Witch-coded.
"Does she ever," Hayden tried again, "ask you to repeat things back to her? Like specific phrases?"
Shane just stared at him, his concern now fully morphing into bewilderment.
"…sometimes she asks me what I want," Shane said, as if admitting a secret. "What would make me happy. That's all."
That was exactly what the witch always asked! 'What do you want, child? Tell me your heart's desire.'
"Does she talk about… energy?" Hayden whispered. "About harnessing your focus? About… conduits?"
"She talks about feelings. My feelings. Her feelings. Normal people feelings."
"Oh my god," Hayden muttered. "It's worse than I thought."
Shane crossed his arms, a defensive stance finally breaking through the serenity. "Why are you interrogating me like I'm a suspect? What is going on with you?"
Hayden looked at him. Shane was blissfully unaware. He was being simmered like a frog in a pot of magically infused lavender-vanilla water, and he was thanking the chef.
"Buddy," Hayden said, placing a hand on Shane's shoulder. "I just want to make sure you're safe. That you're still you."
"I am safe," Shane said, baffled and a little annoyed. "And I'm definitely me. What else would I be?"
Hayden just nodded, because he knew from all his mental research that arguing with the enchanted was pointless. You had to break the spell first.
As he took a seat on the couch, his final conclusion settled over him.
Lily was a vampire witch princess with organized crime connections, who fed on Shane's blood, drained his bank account, syphoned his emotional stability, and was now, for reasons yet unknown, using dark magic to curse the entire Montreal Metros hockey team.
~
The moon was full. Hayden noticed this, which was how he knew things had officially escalated to Defcon One levels of bad.
He drove with both hands locked in a death-grip on the steering wheel, his eyes flicking up to the rearview mirror, tracking the moon’s ominous progress like a missile.
Jackie sat beside him, patiently applying hand cream.
“Okay,” she said, capping the tube. “Let’s go through it one more time.”
Hayden took a shuddering breath.
“So. Shane’s girlfriend. Lily.”
Jackie nodded. “The one with no social media presence and who is mysteriously absent from the entire WAGs group chat, which, for the record, is harder to get into than the actual Metros roster.”
“Exactly!” Hayden said, grateful for the validation. “Red flag number one.”
Jackie hummed thoughtfully. “I did think that was weird.”
Encouraged, Hayden continued. “She only ever calls or texts at night. Shane is constantly ducking out of things after dark. He’s got these… marks on his neck. He’s developed a sudden candle habit. His diet has shifted to things specifically high in iron and protein.”
“And now,” he added, gesturing sharply out the windshield at the glowing celestial orb, “this. It’s a full moon.”
Jackie was quiet for a long moment, watching the neighborhoods slide by.
“…Okay,” she said slowly. “I’m not saying she’s a werewolf.”
Hayden nodded, a wave of relief washing over him. “Thank you.”
“But,” Jackie continued, turning to look at him fully, “I am saying that something is off. The evidence, while not pointing to lycanthropy, does point to… something.”
Hayden nearly teared up.
They pulled up outside Shane’s apartment building. Every window in his unit was pitch black, not a single sliver of light escaping.
“No,” he whispered, gripping the wheel harder. “Of course it’s tonight.”
He checked his phone for the fifteenth time. He’d texted. He’d called. He received nothing but silence.
“This is bad,” Hayden said tightly. “This is exactly how the second act starts.”
“Starts how?”
“You ever seen those movies?” Hayden said, turning to her with wide eyes. “The ones where the best friend thinks everything’s fine, right up until the moment they hear a guttural growl from the basement and realize their friend has grown a tail and a new attitude? Because I have.”
Jackie exhaled. “Hayden.”
“No, listen,” he said, steamrolling ahead. “I’ve been conducting surveillance. Based on all available evidence, I’m ninety percent sure Lily is either a Bratva princess or some kind of supernatural hybrid who is manipulating Shane emotionally, financially, and possibly nutritionally.”
Jackie looked back at the building. All the lights were off.
“And Shane,” Hayden continued, “wants to believe the best in people. That’s how they get you.”
“So what are you saying?”
“As his friends,” Hayden said, “we have a duty to protect Shane from her clutches.”
Jackie looked at his panic-stricken face.
“We have to go in,” he said, already unclipping his seatbelt. “Right now. He could be mid-transformation.”
“…Okay,” she said finally, unbuckling her own belt with resigned determination. “But if we get arrested for breaking and entering, you are explaining this to the police. And our children. And my mother.”
They got inside the building easier than they should have - the front door was slightly ajar - which only solidified Hayden’s conviction that supernatural forces were at play.
Hayden knocked on Shane’s door.
“Shane?” he called, trying to sound calm and failing. “You in there?”
Jackie leaned in, pressing her ear to the wood. “You hear that?”
Hayden held his breath, listening with every fiber of his being.
Nothing.
“Oh my god,” he whispered, horror dawning. “She’s turned him. Or he’s turned. Or - it’s happening.”
Jackie sighed. “Move.”
Before he could argue, she shouldered past him and delivered a kick to the door just beside the lock. It gave way with a sickening crack, swinging inward.
They burst inside.
“SHANE - !”
Hayden stopped dead, his heroic cry dying in his throat.
Shane was standing against the far wall of the living room, perfectly human-shaped.
And he was very close to someone else.
Ilya fucking Rozanov.
They were forehead to forehead, their bodies angled inward in a way that spoke of private concentration. Shane’s hands were braced against the wall on either side of Rozanov’s head, and Rozanov’s fingers were loosely curled in the fabric of Shane’s shirt.
The room was dim, lit only by the cold moonlight streaming through the window.
Rozanov’s eyes flicked up first, pinpointing Hayden in the doorway. A smirk spread across his face. It was the same smirk he wore after scoring a goal, only now it was softer at the edges.
Shane turned his head, blinking as if emerging from deep water.
“Hayden?” Shane said, his voice a little rough.
“What the hell is this?” Hayden demanded, surging forward automatically. “Rozanov - back off. Now.”
“Excuse me?” Rozanov said, his accent thickening noticeably.
“You heard me,” Hayden growled. “Step. Away. From Shane.”
Shane blinked, color rising in his cheeks. “Hayden, what are you - ”
“Shane,” Hayden cut in, not taking his furious eyes off Rozanov, “are you okay? Did he corner you? Because I knew it. I knew he’d pull some shady, manipulative - ”
“Oh my god,” Rozanov said, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling. “You are crazy.”
Hayden turned his full glare on Rozanov. “Don’t play dumb. You’re always chirping him. And now I find you like - ” he gestured wildly at their close proximity “ - this? Coercing him in his own dark apartment on a full moon?”
Jackie cleared her throat. “Hayden, honey…”
“Jackie,” Hayden said without looking, “I appreciate it, but I am handling this.”
Shane looked between them, mortification dawning on his face. “No one is handling anything! Everyone just calm down!”
Rozanov, instead of backing away, took a step forward, which Hayden cataloged as an act of aggression.
“You come into my - his - ” Rozanov corrected himself with a jerk of his head, “ - apartment, break door like common criminals, and accuse me of… what? Seducing him under moon?”
Hayden bristled. “Don’t you twist this.”
“I am not twist!” Rozanov shot back. “You twist! You twist everything into mad story in your head!”
“Hey!” Hayden barked. “You don’t get to talk to me like that in front of him!”
“And you do not get to accuse me of harassing my - ” Rozanov stopped himself abruptly. “ - Shane.”
“…your what?”
Shane groaned, dropping his forehead against the wall for a second before pushing off. “Okay. Everyone. Stop. Please.”
Rozanov threw his hands up in furious exasperation. “I hate this man.”
“The feeling is extremely mutual,” Hayden snapped back instantly.
“Sit,” Shane said, louder now, using his Captain voice as he pointed to the couch. “Both of you. Jackie - please, I am so sorry.”
No one moved.
Shane was the picture of strained patience. “I swear to god, if either of you throws a punch in my living room, I will bench you both myself. Sit. Down.”
With a searing glare at Hayden, Rozanov flopped onto the couch with all the grace of a disgruntled panther.
Jackie nudged Hayden sharply in the ribs. “Sit. Down.”
Hayden sat, perching rigidly on the edge of an armchair, ready to spring back into action.
Shane leaned back against the kitchen counter, crossing his arms like he was holding himself together.
“Okay,” Shane said, his voice quieter now. “So. Lily.”
Hayden leaned forward instantly, a spark of grim triumph in his chest. “Thank you. See? We’re getting to it.”
“There is no Lily,” Shane said simply.
Hayden felt the multi-tiered conspiracy theory he’d constructed begin to crumble at the foundations.
Jackie’s eyes widened. “Oh,” she breathed.
Shane glanced at Rozanov, who was staring resolutely at the ceiling. “Lily… is Ilya.”
The room spun.
“That makes… no sense,” Hayden finally managed.
“It makes perfect sense,” Rozanov muttered. “You are just dumb as always.”
Hayden ignored him, his eyes locked on Shane. “You hate Rozanov. You’ve hated him for years.”
Shane shook his head, a rueful smile touching his lips. “I hated him. Past tense. Emphasis on the past.”
Rozanov finally looked over, his smirk returning. “He loves me now.”
“Ilya,” Shane warned, but there was no heat in it.
Hayden rubbed his face with both hands, as if he could scrub away the confusion. “You’re telling me. That Lily. Russian mafia vampire witch princess Lily… is him?” He jabbed a thumb toward Ilya.
“I am not mafia!” Rozanov said, sitting up straighter. “Also not witch. Vampire is - ” he considered, a wicked gleam in his eye “ - debatable, on some days. But mostly, no.”
From her perch on the arm of Hayden’s chair, Jackie let out a hysterical laugh, which she quickly tried to stifle with her hand.
Shane shot her an apologetic look. “I didn’t mean for it to get… this far out of hand. The secrecy just… spiraled.”
“THIS FAR?” Hayden echoed. “Shane, I thought you were being groomed by a supernatural organized crime syndicate! I was preparing counter-curses! I was researching silver bullet vendors!”
Rozanov perked up, his irritation momentarily replaced by fascination. “Supernatural? This is new part. Tell me more.”
“No,” Shane and Jackie said in unison.
Shane ran a hand through his hair. “Look, the secrecy was stupid, but it started because we didn’t know what it was, and then with the rivalry and the teams and the press… ‘Lily’ was just easier. A placeholder.”
Hayden’s mind was reeling, trying to fit the jagged pieces together. The night calls. The privacy. The marks (hickeys, his brain now supplied). The way Shane’s whole world had seemed to tilt on a new axis.
It all reshaped itself, not into a horror story, but into a different kind of story entirely. One he’d been too blind to see.
“So all that stuff,” Hayden said weakly. “The ‘Princess’ thing…”
Rozanov’s smirk turned smug. “Is pet name. Yes. You like it? I think it is funny. He is very princely.”
Shane flushed a deep red. “Ilya.”
The colossal piece of the puzzle slammed into place with the force of a freight train. Hayden looked from Shane’s embarrassed, affectionate face to Rozanov’s proud, defiant one, and the last of his theories evaporated.
“Oh,” Hayden said, the fight draining out of him all at once, leaving him feeling hollow and foolish. “So you’re… you’re…”
Shane met his eyes, his own eyes softening with a mixture of apology and hope. “I’m gay, Hayden.”
Hayden froze again. He stared at his best friend - the guy he thought he knew better than anyone - and realized that he hadn’t known this at all. That while he’d been building labyrinths of vampire lore, the truth had been a beautiful secret growing right beside him.
All his prepared speeches about protection and garlic and sacred circles withered into dust on his tongue.
Shane's eyes darted between Hayden and Jackie, like he was waiting for the floor to drop out from under him.
“I - ” Shane started, voice catching. “I just wanted to say it. Out loud, to you.”
Jackie was already on her feet, crossing the room in three brisk strides before the sentence had fully settled. She pulled Shane into a hug so sudden and firm that he startled, his arms hovering for a second before wrapping around her.
“Hi, gay,” she said, her voice warm and matter-of-fact against his shoulder. “I’m Jackie. We love you.”
Shane let out a breath. Hayden’s throat clenched.
“Hey,” Hayden said, standing up too quickly. His voice came out rough. “Hey. No. No way you thought I wouldn’t - ” He couldn’t even finish the thought, it was so ridiculous.
Shane looked at him then. The nervous search was still there in his eyes.
Hayden shook his head, stepping closer and waving a hand as if swatting the very idea away. “Buddy. C’mon. You could’ve told me you were secretly an alien sent to colonize Earth through hockey, and I’d still be on your side. I’d just ask for a cool spaceship ride.”
Rozanov’s answering glare could have cut glass.
Hayden turned his full attention back to Shane, putting a hand on his shoulder. “We love you. Obviously. That doesn’t change.”
Shane’s mouth smoothed into a relieved smile. The tension in his shoulders finally melted. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Hayden said. “And for the record - ” He hesitated, scrubbing a hand through his own hair, a flush creeping up his neck. “I kinda… should’ve figured it out sooner.”
Shane blinked. “How?”
Hayden flushed deeper. “It was a total accident! I wasn’t snooping! Well, I was, but not for that reason.” He sighed, defeated by his own confession. “Okay, so. One time after practice. I was standing behind you at your locker. And your phone lit up.”
Shane’s ears turned a shade of crimson.
“And,” Hayden barreled on, “I didn’t mean to read it, but my eyes just… process words. And ‘Lily’ - ” he winced, shooting a look at Rozanov, “ - had texted you something like… ‘I want to be inside you.’ Or. You know. Something like that.”
“Oh my god,” Shane muttered.
Hayden hurried to explain. “At the time, I just assumed you were, uh… into… pegging. I didn’t judge! I just figured, okay, cool, Shane’s exploring.”
Jackie pressed her lips together. “Hayden. Sweetheart.”
“I didn’t!” Hayden insisted, defensive. “I was supportive! In my head!”
Shane’s face was a masterpiece of embarrassment. “I can’t believe that’s how you figured it out. That’s the worst possible way.”
Hayden gave him a helpless shrug. “Look, the takeaway here is that I support you.”
Then, emboldened by the moment, he jabbed a thumb over his shoulder toward Rozanov. “But, just so we’re all crystal clear on the boundaries of my support. You could do so much better than him.”
Rozanov shot to his feet.
“There are so many nice dudes out there!” Hayden continued. “Stable dudes. Dudes who don’t smirk after they score on you. Dudes who don’t antagonize entire locker rooms for fun. Dudes who aren’t, you know, him.”
Shane shook his head, but he was smiling now. “No.”
“No?” Hayden echoed.
“No,” Shane looked past Hayden, his gaze finding Rozanov. “I don’t want anyone else.”
Rozanov’s defensive glare dissolved instantly, replaced by a look of such radiant satisfaction it was almost unbearable.
“I choose him,” Shane said. “Even when he’s… like this.”
Rozanov’s smirk returned, full force. “Especially when I am like this.”
“…okay,” Hayden said slowly, holding up one finger. “One last thing. For my own peace of mind. I need to know this.”
Shane tensed.
“Are you in a cult?” Hayden turned his attention to Rozanov.
Rozanov blinked, thrown. “What?”
“Like, a real one,” Hayden pressed. “Do you make him do rituals? Chant in another language? Cut energetic ties with his family?”
Shane just stared, baffled. “What are you talking about?”
“Do you make him call you Father?” Hayden added.
Rozanov’s mouth twitched. “Yes. Of course. I make him call me Daddy.”
Shane spluttered. “Ilya. For god’s sake.”
Rozanov shrugged. “He do it willingly. Is term of endearment.”
“STOP,” Shane said, his voice strangled with horror.
Hayden dragged his hands down his face, looking weathered. “Fantastic. I regret asking. Let’s move on.” He took a steadying breath. “How long have you been together?”
Shane hesitated, glancing at Rozanov.
Rozanov answered cheerfully. “Since 2011.”
Hayden’s head snapped up. “Since what?”
Shane nodded, quieter now. “We… started hooking up back then. On and off.”
Hayden stared at him, aghast. “You had baby teeth!”
“So did you,” Rozanov pointed out, unimpressed.
“That’s not the point! The point is you were young and he was - ” Hayden gestured wildly at Rozanov, “ - whatever feral creature he was back then!”
Shane stepped in calmly. “It wasn’t random, Hayden. We’ve known each other a long time. Since we were rookies in the Q.”
Rozanov’s smugness faded, replaced by something more direct. “I take care of him,” he said. “Always.”
Shane smiled at that. “He has. Through… everything.”
That did it.
Hayden leaned back, rocked by the statement. “I don’t like that.”
Shane winced. “Hayden, it’s not a competition - ”
“I don’t like that at all,” Hayden repeated. “You’re telling me this guy has known you since you were years? That he’s been… there… and I didn’t even know you liked guys until ten minutes ago? I’m your best friend!”
Jackie reached out and squeezed his arm. “Babe.”
Hayden shook his head, the hurt cutting through the absurdity. “I missed so much. I was right there, and I missed it.”
Shane’s expression softened, filling with a gentle understanding. “You didn’t miss me. I was right here. I just… wasn’t ready for anyone to see that part. Not even you.”
That helped a little. It loosened the knot in Hayden’s chest.
He looked at Rozanov again, his eyes narrowing. “Listen. I still don’t like you. I think you’re annoying and you have a bad attitude and your face is too symmetrical. It’s unsettling.”
Rozanov’s smile was all teeth. “Is fine. Do not like you either. You are scaredy goose.”
“But,” Hayden continued+. “If you hurt him, I will end you. And I’ll make it look like an equipment malfunction.”
Rozanov’s grin sharpened, accepting the challenge. “I would like to see you try, Pike. Would be funny.”
Jackie clapped her hands together once, the sound cracking through the standoff. “Great! Love the testosterone! Now - ” She turned to Rozanov, all business. “You should give me your number.”
Rozanov didn’t hesitate. He pulled out his phone. “Yes.”
Hayden stared at him. “Of course you’re ready.”
Jackie ignored Hayden. “We have a Montreal Metros WAGs group chat. It’s mostly logistics, charity events, and emotional support, but - ” she smiled sweetly, “ - there’s also gossip.”
“Gossip,” Rozanov repeated approvingly.
“We rank players,” Jackie continued. “Hot or not. Sometimes by looks, sometimes by how they played that week.”
Rozanov’s brows shot up. “You rank?” He glanced at Shane. “Like… scoreboard?”
“Exactly like a scoreboard,” Jackie said. “Then we play games. Paranoia. Would You Rather.”
Rozanov was already typing his number into her phone. “I have opinions.”
Hayden stared, betrayed.
Jackie smiled sweetly at her husband. “Someone has to get him into the chat, honey. We have protocols. Potluck rotations.”
Rozanov’s head tilted. “I bring wine. From my uncle’s vineyard.”
Jackie’s eyes lit up with genuine appreciation. “Oh, I like him. He has assets.”
Hayden groaned, collapsing back onto the couch as they exchanged numbers. He replayed the last several weeks in his head - all of it crumbling into dust to reveal this simple, messy truth.
He sighed.
Maybe Lily wasn’t a vampire-witch-Bratva-princess-werewolf.
But as he watched Rozanov’s hand coming up to rest casually on the back of Shane’s neck - a touch that spoke of a history Hayden wasn’t part of - a new conviction settled in his gut.
He may not be a monster from a folktale.
But he was definitely a thief. And he had stolen something very important.
Hayden’s people.