Chapter 2
Willow
I know something’s up the second I step into my father’s office.
He’s behind his desk, posture straight but not stiff, hands folded neatly in front of him, he’s obviously trying to soften whatever is coming.
That alone sets off warning bells. Sharon, his assistant, is conveniently shuffling papers just close enough to eavesdrop, and Eric Carter—his ever-present right hand—stands near the windows, arms crossed, gaze unreadable.
But that’s not all.
Three men stand off to the side, near the massive wall of glass that overlooks the city. Not corporate types. Not family friends. These are the kind of men who don’t just enter a room—they assess it, own it. Controlled. Calculated. Pure, distilled alpha energy with a side of sin.
One leans casually against the wall, a smirk teasing the edge of his lips, watching the scene as though it is his own personal entertainment.
He’s got a mess of golden hair and a cocky glint in his blue eyes that says he’s used to getting his way—and probably talks in a drawl that melts panties.
He could definitely be in a cologne ad or possibly on one of those billboards in only boxers.
The man next to him is darker, heavier with presence.
Sharp jaw, gray eyes, and an intensity that cuts through the air.
He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. Every inch of him is coiled and watchful, radiating control the way heat rolls off summer pavement.
An alpha who would accept nothing less than complete surrender.
The third stands slightly apart from the others, arms folded over a broad chest, shadowed dark eyes locked on me with a quiet kind of scrutiny that makes my skin feel too tight.
With the sun at his back, he becomes midnight pressed against daylight, his edges traced in gold.
Attractive doesn’t even start to describe him.
He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t fidget. Just watches.
I snap my gaze away before the heat in my cheeks betrays me.
This isn’t just a check-in.
Choosing to ignore the doom and gloom looming in triplicate, I drop into the chair across from my father and cross my legs, a slow smile tugging at my lips. “So, what’s the emergency? Did I cause an international scandal? Offend a business partner? Tell me it’s at least something fun.”
Dad sighs, shaking his head. “Willow.”
Shit. He’s using that voice—the calm, measured one that means he’s about to hit me with something I really don’t want to hear.
“I got a call this morning.”
I scoff. “Incredible. A powerful businessman receiving a call? What’s next? Emails?”
From the corner of my eye, I catch movement—one of the men coughs into his hand, amusement flickering across his face. The one with the golden hair. His lips twitch as he runs a hand through the mess on his head like he already knows he’s not supposed to be amused—but is anyway.
The man beside him elbows him lightly, a subtle shift of muscle and irritation. A silent warning.
And the quiet one? His gaze hasn’t left me.
Dad continues, unimpressed. “From my security team. Regarding an incident at Poor Choices last night.”
Ah. There it is.
I keep my face neutral, but my stomach tightens. “Not much of an incident.”
“Not much of an—” He exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “Willow, a man followed you into a locked bathroom.”
“Technically, he brought me with him and locked the door after.”
Eric mutters something under his breath that could only be unbelievable, and the gray-eyed one—Mr. Tall, Dark, and Serious—tilts his head, brow creasing as if he’s cataloging the information for later.
Dad levels me with a look. “That’s your defense?”
I shrug, playing it off. “He let me go.”
A sharp breath escapes the man near the window—the one who hasn't stopped watching me. His jaw ticks, just once, the smallest betrayal that the thought of someone locking me in a room doesn’t sit well. Noted.
Eric snorts. “That doesn’t make it better.”
“Nothing happened,” I insist, flicking my eyes to him. “Finn’s just… Finn. He’s been hanging around for a while. He’s harmless.”
Dad’s jaw tightens. “He’s not harmless, Willow. And he’s been hanging around for years.” He pulls a folder from his desk and pushes it toward me. “State to state. Game to game. Everywhere you go, he’s there.”
I don’t take the folder. I don’t need to. Because I already know.
I swallow hard. “So, what? You had him investigated?”
“Of course I did. I should have done it sooner.”
I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head. “Jesus, Dad.”
He watches me carefully. “And I wasn’t happy with what I found.”
Silence stretches. Nobody moves.
Even the one who looked like he could charm his way out of anything is serious now, his grin faded into a tense line. The air shifts around the others too—heavier somehow.
I glance away, focusing on a spot on the desk. “He’s a beta.”
“And you’re an omega.” Dad says it without blinking. “And whether you want it or not, that makes you a target.”
My temper flares. “For what? I play a sport no one expects an omega to play. I have my own life, my own rules. No one cares what I am—”
“And I won’t stand by while someone threatens that.” His voice is firm, unyielding. My stomach knots, something cold and tight winding through me.
“You’ve lived your life how you wanted, Willow. But then you went on that show… People know you’re an omega now. It’s not like before. You’re not as anonymous as you think you are.”
He leans forward, the space between us shrinking. “As much as you don’t want to be an omega, you are. And hiding your head in the sand won’t change that.”
I blow out a slow breath, forcing myself to loosen my grip on my thighs. “So, what’s your solution?”
Dad leans back, expression unreadable. “You’re getting a security detail.”
I blink.
Then laugh. “Yeah, no.”
“This isn’t a negotiation.”
“Oh, I know,” I say, throwing up my hands. “It’s an edict, right? The great Mitchell Delong has spoken, and the world must obey.”
From the side, I feel eyes on me—three sets, sharp and unreadable. I get the distinct impression none of them are used to being dismissed.
Dad exhales slowly, clearly trying not to lose his patience. “Willow, this is for your safety.”
“I don’t need a damn babysitter.”
“You need protection.”
My head shakes automatically. “This is not protection. This is just another way for you to keep me in line.”
For a beat, no one says a word.
But when I glance up again, all three men are still watching me.
And I can feel it—them—beneath my skin, a warning and a promise all at once, fate twisting the game board when I wasn’t looking.
His gaze doesn’t waver. “If I wanted to keep you in line, Willow, I wouldn’t have let you play in the first place.”
That shuts me up for half a second.
Because…he’s right.
I don’t fit the mold of a Delong. My entire life, I’ve done the exact opposite of what’s expected—derby instead of debutante balls, road trips instead of curated social events, freedom instead of a carefully arranged life.
And yeah, Dad pushes. He sets rules, boundaries. But he’s never tried to stop me.
Not until now.
My chest tightens. “You can’t make me.”
His eyes glint darker, something coiling beneath the surface. “Actually, I can.”
The pause drags, thick with things unsaid.
I fold my arms, breath thinning. “What does that mean?”
His next words slam into me, a gut punch that steals my breath.
“If you refuse the security team, you don’t play. All financial backing of your team will end.”
It takes a second to process.
I blink. “You’re blackmailing me?”
“I’m keeping you safe,” he corrects.
I stare at him, hoping—praying—for some sign that he’s bluffing. Some flicker of hesitation, some crack in his armor.
But there’s nothing. He’s serious. He’d pull derby from me if I don’t comply. The only thing that’s ever truly been mine.
My pulse pounds in my ears. My throat tightens. “That’s not fair.”
He sighs, softer this time. “I know.”
And the worst part is—I believe him. This isn’t about control. It’s about him thinking he’s doing the right thing. That Finn is a real threat. That someone could hurt me.
I hate that I see it. That I understand it. But it doesn’t make it any easier to accept.
I stare at the desk, jaw clenched. “Fine.”
Eric raises a brow. “Fine?”
“But don’t expect me to make it easy for them.” I flick my gaze to my dad. “Or for you.”
Dad’s mouth twitches. Not quite a smile, but close. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Eric clears his throat, stepping forward. “Then let me make the introductions.”
I force my attention back to the three men near the window.
“The security detail assigned to you is a private unit—independent of government contracts. Best in the field,” Eric says, gesturing slightly to the group. “You’ll be under their protection full-time. Starting now.”
The one on the left is the first to move, offering a lazy two-finger salute that borders on disrespectful.
His grin is sharp, full of something wicked and amused.
He’s all golden hair and lean muscle, the kind of handsome that makes bad decisions seem like good ideas.
His gaze meets mine without flinching, already carrying the knowledge of how to get under my skin.
Beside him stands the serious one—gray eyes, military hair cut, arms crossed as though my existence has already been deemed a problem. He doesn’t nod. Doesn’t speak. He watches me, cataloging every breath I take, patient and certain I’ll eventually prove him right.
And the third…he’s different. Quiet. Still.
He doesn’t move, but his presence hums louder than the others.
Dark hair, cut close to his head. Dark eyes.
Strong shoulders. There’s something about the way he looks at me—not with judgment, not with amusement—but with something deeper.
Something unreadable. He studies me with the unsettling certainty of someone who already knows me, and the suspicion of someone who doesn’t trust what he sees.
I arch a brow. “You brought me a control freak, a smartass, and a brooding alpha. What, no golden retriever types available?”
The corner of the blond one’s mouth twitches. The serious one stiffens. And the quiet one doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, just watches.
I shake my head and shove my hands into my jacket pockets. “This is gonna be so fun.”
Then I turn to the door, already storming toward it.
“Willow.”
I pause, fingers curling around the handle.
“You know I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t have to.”
My throat tightens.
I know. But it doesn’t mean I have to like it.
I don’t look back. I pull the door open and walk out, pretending I don’t hear the heavy footfalls of three strangers falling into step behind me.
The second I step onto the sidewalk, they are behind me. Three shadows moving in sync. Silent. Steady. Unshakable.
I barely hold back my irritation. Not one, but three. He really assigned three men to watch me, like I need protection.
This isn’t protection. It’s an invasion. A full-scale, alpha-laced, testosterone-drenched invasion of my personal space. I don’t bother acknowledging them. If I look too closely, I’ll just get annoyed—or worse, curious.
I keep my strides long and clipped, ignoring the driver waiting with the door open. Not a chance in hell. I’m not getting in a car with them. Not when the air feels this thick. Not when I’m this close to my heat and one wrong look could turn my irritation into something stupid and impulsive.
I’ll walk. I need to walk.
I pass a coffee shop window and catch their reflections again. Still there. Still behind me.
They don’t speak. Don’t ask questions. They just follow, carved from stone, every step carrying the weight of men who expect obedience without resistance. That alone makes me want to turn around and flip them off.
But I don’t.
Because they’re not just alphas. They’re his solution. My father’s idea of control dressed up in the thin disguise of concern. And I know he thinks he’s doing the right thing.
And maybe that’s the part that twists the knife.
I pick up my pace, boots clicking against the concrete. They match it without effort. One of them moves slightly ahead, a subtle shift that puts him between me and a group of men approaching on the sidewalk. I scowl but say nothing.
Because the worst part is, some traitorous part of me notices. Appreciates it even.
God, what is wrong with me? I’m clearly broken. Having them follow me everywhere is going to get old fast. I’m sure of it.
Explaining them to the team will be fun. I can picture it now. Daisy’s teasing. Knox’s eye roll. Twinkle’s curiosity. Maybe if I ignore them, they will disappear.
It’s not them I’m really mad at, I remind myself. It’s the fact that my father thinks I need them at all.
Finn isn’t dangerous. The thought rings hollow, even in my own head. Because, if I’m honest, I don’t know what Finn is. And he did scare me last night. Not enough for me believe I need bodyguards…but he did have me looking over my shoulder after that.
He let me go, sure. But only after he got what he wanted; one final, close-up picture before stepping back, watching me with those unsettlingly adoring eyes, leaving me rattled and gripping the sink, desperate for something solid to hold onto.
His parting words weren’t a goodbye. They were a promise.
"See you at the next game, Willow."
The memory skates over my skin, a shiver I refuse to acknowledge.
Because the worst part is, it wasn’t just fear that curled in my gut when he whispered it. It was something else. A flicker of something deep, buried under layers of self-preservation. Obviously my self-preservation is broken.
Because Finn might have a few screws loose, but his attention—the all-consuming focus, the way his eyes never leave me, as though nothing else exists—presses against my still-bruised heart, a twisted sort of balm. And that’s what really scares me.
I pick up my pace, the heels of my boots clicking faster against the pavement, trying to outrun the feeling. The three alphas match my stride effortlessly.
And I hate that part of me wonders, just for a split second, what it would mean to still be the girl I was before Landon. If I hadn’t learned the hard way that forever is just another word for temporary. And my heart wasn’t shattered.