Chapter 15
WREN
“You can’t stall forever.” Brown eyes drill into mine.
“That game might be over, but your interrogation is only just beginning. We need the lowdown on whatever the hell that was at halftime… right here, right now. Otherwise, you’re dish bitch and gonna be in charge of unclogging hair from the shower drain for the rest of the year. ”
Nikita blocks my path as we enter the corridor leading to the after-match function.
I swallow and flick my eyes around. There are only a few other people within earshot, but that’s still too many for my liking.
Grabbing both the girls firmly by their wrists, I drag them around a corner until I find what I’m looking for.
“Get. In. Now.” I shove them through the door and slam it securely shut behind us. A single light bulb hums to life and flickers overhead.
“Why are we in a cleaning closet?”
We’re all almost bumping noses. The walls around us are lined with metal shelves and bulk cleaning products. But at least I can word vomit in here without concern.
I tell them everything. My stupid fling with Beta Brett, how I found out he’d been cheating—after already kicking his ass to the curb—and then the big cannonball drops into the water.
My scent match. Swiftly followed by the fact I told him we couldn’t pursue it, and yet he gave me his number anyway.
“You met your wha—” Gabbie claps both hands over her mouth, eyes popping out of her head.
Nikita cups my cheeks, looking at me like a proud mother hen. “Bitch, that man is so fine. The Omega goddesses are shining down on you. Mmhhmmmm, yes, they are.”
“Hardly,” I pout. She squishes my cheeks together. “Don’t forget the rules.” My words come out muffled underneath her hold.
“Pfffft. Please. Rules schmules.” She lets me go but taps my nose and winks.
“What if someone discovers the truth? What if I get kicked out of my scholarship and it’s like… day two…” I’m ready to wail my lungs out and stamp my foot.
“Whoa there, slow your roll. Hysteria isn’t a cute look with this bomb outfit you’ve got on.”
“No one else knows, right?” Gabbie nudges me. “Just us, and…”
“Theo.” As I mumble his name, my stomach turns into a riot of wings.
“Theooooo,” they both croon and sigh. Tilting their heads to one side, grinning at me.
“Shush.” My cheeks glow hot, and my smile is too hard to wrestle off my face. He is exceedingly sigh-worthy.
“So. Game plan, bitches. None of us are ever gonna rat each other out about a scent match, for starters. And we’re not telling a soul if you so happen to slip and fall on the knot of an Alpha rugby player…
or team owner.” She winks and holds up both pinky fingers, wiggling them in our faces.
“And likewise for whatever comes our way, because let me tell you, there is an entire catalog of thigh muscles I did not know existed, and I’m gonna have to do some hands-on research. ”
Gabbie and I both hook ours, linking us all in a tiny circle, a coven of Omegas having each other’s backs, surrounded by the pungent smell of bulk bleach and budget handwash.
“Now spit to seal the deal.” Nikita hacks a glob of saliva onto the floor, a sight worthy of any rugby player.
“You want us to spit on it?” Gabbie’s lip curls in unease at the thought.
“That’s what she saidddd,” Nikita singsongs, waggling her eyebrows, then cackles with infectious glee. Which in turn has us both cracking up and spitting on the floor.
“Alright. Deal’s done. Now, let’s go meet big brother number twelve and indulge in a little bit of bicep appreciation.”
“You still got that mace on you?” Gabbie deadpans.
We tumble out of the closet together, proceeding to retrace our steps back along the corridor to the function.
Knowing how these things usually go, tonight is a bigger deal than normal since it’s game one for the season.
The guys have all changed into their number ones—suits, dress shoes, and ties are the team requirements—and at an immediate glance, there are a number of past players, VIPs, and sponsors here tonight.
I spot Finch immediately, who grins and waves us over. He doesn’t have too much battle wounding from the looks of it. Although who knows how his muscles and joints are feeling underneath the surface.
“Wrenegade… thought you’d gotten lost. I was just about to text you.” He’s got a spark in his eye, the high of a win still pumping through his veins. Deservedly so, they had to work hard for that one. I’m sure it tastes all the sweeter for it.
“Cap, this is my sister, Wren,” he introduces me to the wall of a man with tattooed brown skin standing shoulder to shoulder beside him.
“Mālō e Lele, Wren.” He shakes my hand. “Call me Paul. My wife, Samara, is just over there. I’ll have to properly introduce you once she’s gotten away from the marketing interns.
Nothing like a crew of twenty-year-olds who already have far too many ideas for dumb dances they want us to do so they can post on the team’s socials.
They think they can get to my girl, and she’ll be the key to convincing us all to do it. ”
“And speaking as one of those twenty-something-year-olds myself, I bet they’re correct.
” I roll my lips together as he closes his eyes on a groan of agreement.
“Congratulations on the win, by the way,” I add.
Turning to the girls, with a reach out to drag them closer, my smile grows.
“These are my friends, Nikita and Gabbie.”
“Pleasure is all mine, ladies.” Paul gives us a dip of his chin just as someone hollers his name. “Duty calls. Don’t be strangers, yeah? Wolves are family.”
“Nikita.” My brother reaches out to shake her hand, then turns. “Gabbie.” He repeats her name much slower, softer. It almost sounds like a question.
“Or Gabriella. I answer to both.”
They stay shaking hands for a beat longer, then my brother pulls his away and shoves it through his hair, straightening up with a weirdly tight smile.
“Let’s get you all something to drink. C’mon, I saw Ace somewhere.
And I’ll no doubt have to introduce you to his roommate.
Those two are joined at the hip.” He herds us with him in the direction of the bar.
There are plenty of curious eyes on us. Three Omegas will always attract attention in a room chock-full of Alphas, but for the most part, I’m sure it’s the fact that I’m Finch’s sister.
Our matching blond locks and blue eyes give us away.
After ordering us drinks, Finch takes the time to introduce us to some of the players.
Brick wall after brick wall. My neck is starting to hurt from having to tilt my head back in order to take them all in.
No one is under six feet tall, and the lock forwards in particular are like oversized, muscular giraffes.
They really are the tall timbers, climbing up to damn near seven feet tall.
It’s a far cry from the days when Finch used to prefer to make like I didn’t exist. But somehow I think this is him being a dog with a bone more than anything; he’s not going to let it slip past unnoticed that I’m his sister.
With each new teammate we’re introduced to, there’s a wariness and gentlemanly politeness in their handshakes.
They’re all very much making sure to stay on the good side of their vice-captain.
“Nikita, Gabbie… this is Atlas Palamo—Ace.” Those hazel eyes are piercing when they glance up from where he stands with one elbow leaning on the bar, a beer bottle in hand.
I have to swallow down the way it immediately sets my teeth on edge that he reaches out to briefly shake their hands. It makes no sense. All the other teammates they’ve chatted with and exchanged a few jokes, and I haven’t blinked twice.
Yet, this right here has me sinking my nails into my palm on my free hand as it curls into a fist at my side.
Atlas never talks to me. He outright ignores me. He’s just an Alpha asshole who thinks that because he’s a star on the field, he can act like a douchebag off of it.
“There’s the biggest pain in my ass.” Finch chuckles and calls out, “Spend that much time fluffing your feathers in front of the cameras, and you’ll start growing a beak and wings, you big fucking Scottish peacock.”
My stomach swoops. Oh god. This is the moment. The part I’ve been dreading.
Far from the ideal opportunity to catch his eye in private. This is happening right here and now.
“Girls, this is Ace’s roommate…”
They live together? Shit. Even worse. Even more of a disaster. My brother’s best friend and him live together, and no doubt must by extension spend an inordinate amount of time with my brother outside of training and game days.
The rate my heart is pounding makes it feel like it’s about to try and climb straight up the back of my throat.
Turning to follow the direction Finch is looking, I see him stroll across the room.
Connor looks every inch the rugby player of dreams. In his midnight-blue suit and tie that suits his auburn-brown hair to perfection.
A crisp white shirt sits against the strong line of his throat.
He might have been born to play rugby, but his talents don’t stop there.
Wearing that suit like it’s his job, he crosses the room, hands tucked loosely in his pockets, player’s lanyard ID swinging around his neck.
I want to melt into the floor.
There’s something entirely magnetic about him, so much so that I can’t rip my eyes away, and that’s when he spots me.
The moment his eyes collide with mine, that mischievous smile splits wide, grinning like a maniac, his gaze drops down my body appreciatively, sending a flood of warmth pooling in the exact place it shouldn’t.
Except he slides those eyes away just as fast, as if he suddenly comes to his senses, remembering that we’re surrounded by a room full of people… as if he realizes who I’m standing next to.
Just as he gets within reaching distance, my brother claps his shoulder in a bro hug, which leaves him staring right at me. Recognition dawning, his eyes widen. The reaction is immediate.
“Oh, fuck me,” he hisses under his breath, face falling.
Tipping my glass his way, I give him a toast with a firm but regret-filled look.
I know exactly who you are, Connor Renfro. It was lovely knowing you.
Have a nice life.