I completely froze in the doorway because the sudden and aggressive command startled me. My grip tightened on the heavy metal handle while I lifted my chin to identify the source of the deep voice as I stepped fully into the heated corridor and immediately collided with a massive, unyielding chest.
The physical impact forced me to stumble backward, and I had to quickly plant my boots on the rubber floor mat so I would not lose my balance and fall onto the concrete. I shifted my heavy equipment duffel bag higher on my shoulder, whereas the man standing in front of me did not move a single inch.
I looked up and recognized Mikhail Volkov instantly. He possessed a towering and heavily muscled physique that completely dominated the narrow hallway. He wore a tailored team tracksuit that highlighted his broad shoulders, and his pale gray eyes stared down at me with absolute contempt. He crossed his thick arms over his chest, waiting for me to issue a frantic apology for my clumsiness.
"I am waiting for you to explain why you are standing in my way and why you just walked directly into me," Mikhail stated with a harsh tone.
"I did not intentionally walk into you, and you were standing entirely too close to a door that opens inward," I replied smoothly, deliberately refusing to apologize or show any submission. "You should probably stand further back if you do not want people to bump into you."
Mikhail uncrossed his arms and took a slow, deliberate step forward until he completely invaded my personal space. "You are Avery Moretti, and you clearly do not understand how things operate inside my arena. I am the captain of this team, so I expect the new rookies to show basic respect when they interact with me."
"I respect talent on the ice, but I do not automatically respect someone simply because they wear a letter on their jersey," I countered while maintaining direct eye contact. "I am here to score goals and win games, and I am not here to bow down to you in the hallway."
Mikhail narrowed his eyes, and he leaned down slightly so his face was inches away from mine. "You have a very arrogant mouth for a player who barely secured a contract with this franchise. You might have scored a few decent goals in your previous developmental league, yet you have never played alongside real professionals. I will personally run you off my ice today if you cannot maintain the standard I demand from my line mates."
"You are more than welcome to try and run me off the ice, although you will have to actually catch me first," I challenged him, feeling a sudden rush of adrenaline enter my bloodstream.
My heart rate spiked dangerously high because of the intense confrontation, and I immediately felt the chemical suppressants working overtime in my body to mask my rising body heat. A thin layer of sweat formed on my lower back, and I desperately hoped the thick medical patch on my neck remained securely hidden beneath my high collar. I forced my breathing to slow down so my body would not betray my true biological nature.
"I do not chase rookies, because I expect them to follow my exact instructions without hesitation or complaint," Mikhail warned me in a low, dangerous register. "Coach Baker put you on my offensive line for the afternoon drills, and you will pass the puck exactly when I tell you to pass it. If you attempt to show off or ignore my plays, I will ensure you spend the rest of the season sitting on the bench."
"I know how to play my position, and I do not need a babysitter to hold my hand during a standard practice session," I fired back, tightening my grip on my duffel bag strap. "If you are open, I will pass the puck, but I will take the shot myself if I have the better angle on the net."
"You do not make the final decisions on my line, and you will quickly learn that your personal ego means absolutely nothing to me," Mikhail growled, stepping even closer until the toe of his boot touched mine. "I protect my roster, and I win championships. I will not tolerate a selfish player who disrupts the chemistry of my team simply because he wants to focus on his own statistics."
"I only care about winning," I insisted, refusing to step backward despite the overwhelming physical pressure of his presence. "We actually share the same goal, so you should stop lecturing me and start preparing for the practice session."
"Do not ever interrupt me or tell me what I should do," Mikhail commanded, and his voice vibrated with a genuine, heavy anger. "You are currently projecting a ridiculous amount of false bravado, and I am going to completely break that arrogant attitude before the first official game of the season. You will learn your proper place on this team, Moretti."
"My proper place is on the starting line, and no amount of locker room intimidation will change my mind," I stated clearly.
Mikhail stared at me for a long, silent moment. I watched his eyes narrow while he analyzed my posture and my facial expression. He was incredibly observant, and Julian's warning repeated in my memory. I needed to maintain my Alpha disguise perfectly, or Mikhail would notice the subtle differences in my behavior. I kept my shoulders squared and my jaw clenched.
"You are hiding something, and your defensive attitude proves it," Mikhail observed suddenly, tilting his head to study my face. "You overcompensate with your sarcastic remarks because you are trying to distract me from whatever weakness you brought into my arena."
"Everyone has weaknesses, but I prefer to keep mine private instead of projecting them onto my teammates," I deflected smoothly, desperately hoping my voice did not shake. "Now, I need to find the locker room so I can unpack my equipment."
"The locker room is directly down this hallway and the second door on the left, but you are not dismissed yet," Mikhail said, shifting his large frame to completely block my path. "We are going to have a very long and very difficult season if you continue to disrespect my authority."
"I guess we will just have to see who breaks first," I replied, flashing him a completely humorless smile.
Mikhail exhaled heavily through his nose, and the warm air brushed against my cheek. The sheer proximity of his body was suffocating, and my Omega instincts urged me to lower my eyes and submit to his dominant Alpha energy. I violently pushed those natural biological urges down and forcefully maintained my aggressive stance. I would rather die than let him see me yield.
"I never break, Moretti," Mikhail stated with absolute certainty. "I dismantle every single obstacle in my path, and you are currently an obstacle."
"Then I suggest you lace your skates tight today, Captain, because I am not moving out of your way," I challenged him one final time.
Mikhail finally stepped aside, allowing me just enough space to squeeze past his massive body in the narrow hallway. I walked forward without looking back, and my heart beat against my ribs with a rapid and terrifying rhythm. I successfully survived the first confrontation, but the real test would begin the second we stepped onto the ice together.
I reached the heavy wooden door of the locker room and pushed it open, expecting to find an empty room where I could finally relax my tense muscles. Instead, I walked directly into a crowd of massive, boisterous Alpha players who all stopped talking and turned to stare at me. I recognized Dylan Turner standing near the center benches, and his blond hair fell into his eyes while he glared at me with instant hostility.
"Who are you, and why do you smell entirely of chemical disinfectant?" Dylan demanded loudly, his voice echoing off the metal lockers.