Chapter 3
Willow
To say I regret choosing to walk is an understatement—my feet are killing me. And I feel like the little girl in the Annie movie when she’s searching the city for her. Oh my goodness, oh my goodness. Except I’m not openly complaining. Yet. I pause, and instantly, my three shadows pull up short.
I turn toward them, hands planted on my hips. “If you're going to stalk me, I should at least know your names.”
The one with storm-gray eyes scowls at me, while the tall, dark, and handsome guy glares silently. Clearly, they both graduated from the same bodyguard school. The third, deceptively calm, smiles slightly, his gaze drifting from my head down to my toes and back again.
“Spicy,” he whistles. “We haven’t watched a spicy omega before.”
The gray-eyed guy growls, “We're assigned to protect you, not stalk you.”
The tall, dark one remains silent, his lips pressed into a thin line.
“Don't judge me,” I snap at him. He hasn’t said a word, but his eyes scream that he thinks I’m just another spoiled, rich girl. Sure, I am both spoiled and rich, but that doesn’t make me terrible to be around. Not normally, at least.
The corner of his mouth tilts up, infuriatingly teasing, but he still says nothing.
Then the calm one speaks up in a low, measured tone: “This is Graham,” he says, tapping the gray-eyed guy’s chest. “Hunter,” he continues, gesturing toward the tall, dark man, “and I'm Carson.”
His voice. Holy shit. I've got a thing for voices, and his is every bit as laid back as he sounds, smooth honey pouring straight into my veins. I fight the urge to shiver as it washes over me. The imaginary drawl I thought he had, has nothing on this.
Stepping forward, he tilts his head toward me, close enough it feels conspiratorial, a smile playing on his lips. “And you're Willow Delong. Hunter’s sister watched you on Omega in Paradise.”
A flicker of embarrassment prickles the back of my neck. Great. Another person who knows me from that show. I twist my lips, chewing on my cheek as a bead of sweat slides down my back. The thought of walking another five miles in these boots doesn’t sound fun at all.
“You look tired,” Graham says, his gray eyes softening as he pulls out his phone. “I'll call your driver.” I watch him do exactly that, and my stomach dips; Landon was the last and only alpha who even tried to take care of me, and he did a shit job of it.
I swallow hard and spin on my heel, determined to reclaim some independence. But I don’t get two feet away before strong arms and an unmistakable musk wrap around me—an aroma reminiscent of ice cream, butter pecan to be exact.
Before I know it, I’m hoisted onto a broad shoulder. “You will be waiting for your driver.” Spoken slow, deliberate, each word stretched with the kind of authority that leaves no room for argument. A shiver races down my spine, heat pooling exactly where it shouldn’t. Fuck me.
I’m too stunned to react at first, while passersby begin to whisper and point, and I feel my cheeks flush hot. If I were on my feet, I’d probably shove him into the nearest wall. I might be small, but I’m mighty.
I start to struggle, and suddenly, a firm hand lands on my ass. “No.” That single word has my blood boiling. Then, with a quiet chuckle, Hunter adds, “You haven’t heard that word a lot, have you, princess?”
Draped over his shoulder, with the blood rushing to my head, I can only catch snippets of their conversation as they continue talking among themselves. I try to twist away, but I'm pinned too securely.
“Put me down, you brute,” I snap, though my protest is muffled by my position.
“Five minutes,” Graham says. I can’t see him, but I assume he’s busy checking his phone.
“I’m not staying on his shoulder for five minutes,” I retort.
Hunter chuckles again. “No?”
“I’ll tell my dad,” I threaten.
“She’ll tell her dad,” Carson echoes, voice light, the smile obvious in the lilt of his words.
“Honey, we’re doing exactly what your dad told us to do…
protecting you, taking care of you,” Graham says as he circles Hunter and leans down to catch my gaze.
“Your feet hurt, and Hunter here is making sure you don’t have to stand on them for the next five minutes until your driver—that you left behind—gets here. ”
How did I ever think he was attractive with his gray eyes and chiseled jawline? I want to punch him in his too handsome face. Up close, I can see flecks of blue in their depths, and his smile, as he tries to convince me they’re just doing their job, makes me want to scream.
“My dad is overreacting. Finn isn’t dangerous.”
Carson appears next to Graham, his relaxed posture at odds with the sharp gleam in his hazel eyes. “Not dangerous?” he repeats, tilting his head slightly. “Did you see the amount of shit the investigator dug up on him in twelve hours?”
I press my lips together.
Okay, so maybe Finn is dangerous. Maybe his obsession isn’t as harmless as I told myself it was. Maybe I should’ve actually read that file instead of brushing it off. I’ll read it as soon as I get home. My dad will send it over if I ask.
Carson studies me for half a second before his mouth quirks up at the corner. “Oh, you didn’t read it.”
Damn it.
I refuse to give him the satisfaction of confirming that, so I hold his gaze instead. His irises are a swirling mix of green and gold, pretty in a way I absolutely refuse to acknowledge, not now, not ever.
Carson doesn’t need verbal confirmation to know he’s right. His smirk says he already knows.
“He lives alone,” Carson says slowly, drawing it out.
“Was in and out of mental health institutions as a kid. Dad died young. Mom wasn’t around much. When she was, she locked him up—because the alphas in her life told her to.”
A pause. Long enough to make me shift uncomfortably on Hunter’s shoulder.
“Until he was suspected of killing them.”
The next breath comes lighter, giving me space to think about it. Then, with the same easy rhythm: “Learned how to work the system. Acted just right. Knew what to say to the doctors. Got himself out.” A faint hum of amusement seems to trail the last two words. “Smart guy.”
My stomach tightens.
Graham watches me closely, his expression unreadable. “He fixates on things,” he adds. “And you are his fixation.”
A shiver skates down my spine, and not entirely from fear.
Carson doesn’t let up. “And we’re not talking some passing crush here, Willow. We’re talking years.” His smirk fades as he delivers the final blow. “Long enough that he has an entire spare room plastered with your face.”
A sharp inhale gets caught in my throat.
Plastered. With my face.
I should be horrified. I am horrified.
And yet…my pulse kicks up, heat curling low in my stomach at the thought of someone being that obsessed with me, of being wanted that intensely. I clamp my mouth shut, but it doesn’t matter.
Hunter tenses even more beneath me, and Carson and Graham freeze. A thick beat of silence settles between us, and fuck, I know exactly why. I can smell it.
The moment the realization hits me, Graham exhales sharply through his nose. Carson’s brows shoot up, his smirk sliding back into place with a slow, knowing tilt of his lips. And Hunter lets out the softest growl possible.
I squeeze my eyes shut. Goddamn my perfume.
“Interesting,” Carson drawls. “Did not expect that reaction.”
Graham speaks before the silence can stretch. “Not our business.”
“Never said it was,” he replies, still watching me far too closely.
Hunter shifts slightly, his grip on me firm, unwavering. He hasn’t said a word, but his body language is screaming at me louder than anything else. I can feel the tension flowing off of him.
I fight the heat rising through me and twist hard in his arms. “Put. Me. Down.”
Graham glances at his phone. “One more minute.”
“One more—are you serious?”
Hunter is, of course, as immovable as a goddamn mountain.
I groan, dropping my forehead against his back. “I hate all of you.”
Carson chuckles, and even Graham’s lips twitch, holding back a smirk.
The distant hum of a familiar engine signals my driver’s arrival.
Graham nods toward the town car. “Your ride’s here.”
Without warning, Hunter takes three long steps, shifts his hold, and drops me—not roughly, but without hesitation—right onto my feet beside the open car door.
I barely have time to find my balance before his hand lands on the small of my back, guiding me inside before I can even think about running.
I turn, about to protest, but before I can, Hunter slides in next to me, shutting the door with a soft, final click. Graham takes the front seat, while Carson opens the door on my left, boxing me in completely.
The space inside the car suddenly feels a whole lot smaller. And the exact reason I didn’t want to be alone with them in the first place.
I cross my arms over my chest, pointedly ignoring the lingering heat in my veins, the way my body still hums from everything. Or the way peaches fill the space.
Graham tells the driver to take me home, while Carson studies me for a long moment before saying, “First order of business is making sure you wear blockers when you go out. Finn might be a beta, but he could still catch your scent, and that could make everything worse.”
I shiver, which seems to satisfy Carson, because he leans back in his seat as the town car merges back into traffic.
Hunter doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. His presence is enough.
Walking into practice should feel like freedom.
Instead, three massive shadows trail after me, broadcasting my every move, turning me into the main act of a VIP security detail.
Because, apparently, I am.
I push through the doors of the rink, the cool air immediately soothing the lingering warmth of the morning sun.
I can hear the distant hum of my teammates already skating laps, the faint whoosh of wheels against the track.
But the moment I step inside, I feel them at my back, a wall of muscle and silent authority.
I stop just inside and whirl around, glaring up at my unwanted entourage.
“Okay, this is where you stay. Outside.” I gesture toward the parking lot, my tone all fake-cheerful, the way you’d talk to lost tourists.. “Go be ominous out there.”
Graham crosses his arms, his storm-gray eyes flat. “No.”
I exhale harshly. “I knew you were gonna say that.”
Hunter remains silent, but the set of his jaw makes it clear he’s on the same page.
Carson, ever the most laid-back of the trio, smirks. “C’mon, princess, what’s the harm in letting us watch? You enjoy attention, don’t you?”
I scowl. “Not this kind.”
“Too bad.” Graham jerks his chin toward the track. “We’re coming in.”
Before I can argue, all three of them move past me, stepping into my space with the easy confidence of men who belong. Like they aren’t about to cause a scene.
And sure enough, the moment I follow them further into the building, everyone notices. Practice screeches to a halt as every single one of my teammates takes in the three very large, very alpha men now invading our space.
Twinkle Toes skates up first, eyes flicking between them, then settling on me. “Uh, Jinx?” she says, dragging out my name. “Are we taking in strays now?”
Smack ‘N Cheese stops next to her, propping a hand on her hip. “Damn, girl,” she whistles. “You open up a bodyguard adoption center without telling us?”
Oopsie Daisy skates right up to me, lowering her voice just enough for me to hear but loud enough that it’s definitely not subtle. “Are you—” she jerks her chin toward them, “—knotting one of them?”
“Oh my God.” I groan, dragging a hand down my face. “No. Absolutely not.”
Daisy doesn’t look convinced. “Because I would support it.”
I shoot her a glare. “They are not here for that.”
Equi’Knox coasts up, arms crossed. “So, why are they here?”
I feel all their eyes on me.
I force a breezy shrug. “Oh, you know. PR stunt.”
Knox raises a brow, it’s obvious she doesn’t believe me. “A PR stunt.”
“Yup.”
“For what?”
I gesture vaguely. “The league. Publicity. You know how it is.”
None of them believe me, but thankfully they don’t push. They know that whoever my dad is, he funds the team.
Cheese is still eyeing them, lips pursed. “They got names, or should we just call them your keepers?”
I sigh, already knowing this is never going to die. “Fine. The serious one is Graham. The broody one is Hunter. And the one who doesn’t shut up—” I point at Carson, who grins as though I just handed him a trophy, “—is Carson.”
Carson winks. “Pleasure, ladies.”
Twinkle tilts her head, considering. “If this is a PR stunt, does that mean we get bodyguards of our own?”
“No,” I say firmly.
Cheese waves a hand toward Carson. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind one of those.”
Carson looks far too pleased with himself. “I’m flattered.”
Hunter sighs, completely over this job. Graham’s jaw ticks.
Knox—who is the least interested in gossip—finally rolls her shoulders and mutters, “Whatever. Let’s just get back to work.”
With that, the conversation mercifully shifts, my teammates shaking off their curiosity as they skate back onto the track. But I catch the way Daisy is still watching me, a knowing little smirk playing on her lips.
She’s going to push for answers later.
I’ll have to be ready.