Chapter Twenty-Three
Frankie
I ’m in my makeshift office at the club—you know, the glorified broom cupboard with a window and a crochet gecko—wearing Jax’s hoodie and uploading the latest one-on-one interview onto all of the club’s socials.
Today’s victim was Ollie, who thought wearing neon socks made him media-ready.
He was, of course, incorrect.
The wifi’s lagging, the captions aren’t syncing, and I’ve just found a hate comment that calls me “a pheromone-chasing omega skank with a tripod fetish,” which is both rude and oddly specific.
Still. I’m trying to focus.
My bond with Jax is still new—raw and quiet and constant. I feel him everywhere: in my skin, in my chest, in the way his scent clings to this hoodie like a second skin. It’s grounding as much as it is calming; a low hum of connection that keeps me from unraveling completely, even on days when I want to scream.
But it’s also made things complicated.
I’ve bonded to one alpha, but I’m living with three more.
And someone out there has noticed.
There’s a knock at the door. It’s sharp and clipped—the kind that carries bad news in its back pocket.
I jump. “Yeah?”
The door opens, and Rory steps inside. His jaw is tight, his brows drawn. The tension radiating off him makes my stomach twist.
“Tom wants to see us,” he says simply. “All of us.”
“Now?”
“Now.”
*
We gather in one of the meeting rooms upstairs.
Tom—Alderbridge RFC’s club manager, logistics guy, and general bearer of bad news—is already standing at the front. He’s got a clipboard tucked under one arm, a laptop open in front of him, and a pinched look that says he’d rather be anywhere else.
Evie is already there, too; perched at the far end of the table in a fitted blazer, pen in hand, and an expression sharp enough to skin someone. She doesn’t look up when we enter, just clicks her pen deliberately.
Tom clears his throat. “Everyone here?”
We nod. No one speaks.
He exhales like it physically pains him. “Right. Let’s get straight to it.”
I sit beside Finn, pulse already thudding in my ears. Theo’s bouncing his leg under the table. Jax looks carved out of stone.
Tom scrolls something on the screen. “There’s been a formal complaint.”
The air tightens instantly, and he glances up, straight at me.
“About you, Frankie. And your… unofficial involvement with what appears to be a forming pack.”
My mouth goes dry. “ What ?”
“Concerns have been raised,” Tom continues, “about pheromone exposure on club property. About unmanaged heats, about alpha-omega proximity, and—frankly—about stability.”
Theo’s chair screeches as he leans forward. “That’s bullshit. ”
Tom holds up a hand. “I’m just the messenger.”
“That’s not just a complaint,” Finn says, voice sharp. “That’s regulatory language.”
“Yeah, well, that’s also not everything,” Tom continues. “The Omega Safety Compliance Board has been notified. There’s suspicion that the environment here is… unregulated .”
Rory growls low in his throat as Tom taps his laptop, then turns the screen toward us. “You’re close to going viral, Frankie. And I don’t mean your own videos and footage—I mean you. Fan accounts have been created and are posting sideline shots, post-game hugs, edited reels.”
My mind is whirring. “I don’t—I didn’t—I had no idea,” I stutter, lost for words.
“There’s also been some… commentary. From rival players.”
Theo’s jaw flexes. “Denton Vale.”
Evie speaks, finally. “It’s nothing derogatory. Nothing that they could get into real trouble for— yet . But it is looking more and more likely that the anonymous accounts we’ve flagged before for leaving hate comments about Frankie have originated from that camp. Their captain follows multiple watchdog accounts, and he’s tagged the OSC in two different clips.”
“Clips of Frankie?!” Finn cuts in.
“No—not that we know of, anyway. But it’s quite clear that he’s not afraid to bring anything social-media related to their attention.”
“It’s deliberate,” Jax nods.
“Deliberate or not, the damage is done,” Tom says. “The OSC doesn’t need full evidence or proof of anything—they just need enough suspicion to launch a review.”
I sit forward. “But I’m bonded, now.”
“To Jax, right?” Tom confirms, his eyes flickering to the alpha, then back to me. “Yeah, a bond to one out of four isn’t exactly going to help matters.”
I shift uncomfortably beneath his heavy gaze. “What—you’re saying that makes me dangerous ?”
“No,” Evie cuts in, her voice sharp and crisp. “We’re saying that makes you vulnerable. And it makes the club a target.”
“So what?” Theo snaps. “You want her to fast-track bonding just to quiet down Marcus fucking Vale?!”
“I don’t want anything,” Tom says, a little tired now. “But the OSC’s threshold for intervention is low, especially when it involves potential heat triggers and competitive environments. If they decide your house—and half of my team —is operating as an unregulated pseudo-pack, then they can pull contracts. Flag player fitness. Force relocation.”
Finn’s voice is tight. “You’re saying they could take her from us?”
Evie nods. “If they claim it’s a safety issue? Yes.”
I glance at her. “And the club’s position?”
“We’re walking a thin line,” Evie sighs. “You’ve brought in record engagement to our social media, Frankie. Sponsorship interest is up, and the PR boost has been excellent. Fans are showing up to every single match, and they’re enjoying it, too. But scandal cuts both ways.”
“This can’t be serious,” Theo scoffs. “Someone reported us for existing with a functioning nose, and now you’re talking about Frankie losing her job?!”
“Do you know how rare it is for a semi-pro club to have this kind of engagement online?” Tom asks, arching a brow. “You’ve gone from ‘rural obscurity’ to ‘pack PR scandal’ in three months.”
Jax tilts his head. “So what exactly do they want ?”
“Clarity,” Evie answers. “They want to know what you are, who Frankie belongs to, why she’s here—and, more than anything, whether it’s safe.”
“They’re not asking if you’re a bonded pack,” Tom adds. “They’re asking why you’re not .”
“So what does that mean ?” Finn asks, arms folded. “What are our options?”
Tom’s tone softens slightly as he looks at me again. “Look, Frankie: no one’s kicking you out, okay? Not yet, at least. But—there’s a board meeting on Thursday. The OSC is expecting an update, and if we don’t give them one, they’ll define things for us.”
Theo’s foot starts bouncing as Rory folds his arms. “This is a witch hunt.”
“It’s bureaucracy,” Evie replies. “Which is worse. Bureaucracy doesn’t care if you’re good people. It cares about optics, policies, and public pressure.”
“What a joke, ” Theo hisses.
“Ridiculous,” Finn nods in agreement.
“What’s the solution?” I ask.
“Sort it,” Tom shrugs. “You either define the pack and make it official, or be ready to justify why not—and fast .”
“You’ve got four days,” Evie adds. “Whatever you decide, make sure it looks intentional.”
I feel heat rise in my chest. “You’re saying I have to— what —bond all of them now ?”
“No one’s saying you have to do anything,” Evie replies. “We’re saying the OSC has teeth, and the last thing you want is for them to decide what’s best for you.”
Tom closes his laptop with quiet finality. “Because if you don’t define what you are—someone else will.”
The room goes silent, and Evie moves to stand, adjusting her blazer.
“We’ll draft a statement in case this leaks further,” she says crisply. “But Frankie?”
I look up and meet her unreadable gaze.
“Whatever you decide—make sure you’re doing it on your terms.”
Then she’s gone, heels clicking down the hall. Tom watches her go, then lingers at the door for a moment.
“You’re not the first pack to deal with OSC scrutiny. But the ones who survive it?” He looks between us. “They’re the ones who act like a pack before the paperwork.”
And then he’s gone, too.
The silence left behind buzzes loud in my ears.
Theo lets out a low whistle. “Well. That escalated.”
I don’t laugh.
Finn exhales slowly. “So. Just to recap. Some loser alpha with an inferiority complex and a historic family rivalry with yours has probably sicced the OSC on us, and now our choices are either to bond up, or risk state-mandated separation?”
“Well, I mean… there’s no way they can make us do anything, right?” Theo says, but his voice is too loud, too casual. “I’m just saying—negotiating with pheromone-sniffing bureaucrats? Isn’t that, like, the golden rule of things we don’t do?”
Nobody responds.
“I’ll speak to my dad,” Theo says as he leans back in his chair, tossing an arm across the back of the seat. “See what can be done. We’ve got people. There’s probably a loophole, a clause, some ancient dusty legislation about communal scent bowls or something—”
“Theo,” I say gently.
He looks over at me. He’s still smirking—still trying to play it off—but his eyes are sharp and serious underneath all the bravado.
“I don’t want you calling in favors,” I say. “Or putting pressure on yourselves. Not for me.”
“You’re in this now, sweetheart,” he says. “Of course we’re gonna fight for you.”
“I know,” I say. “But what if this isn’t a fight?”
They all turn to look at me.
“I wanted to be part of this pack,” I say, quiet but clear. “Even before I knew you were a pack. Before I knew anything.”
Theo shifts, and I shoot him a look.
“From the moment I walked into that building and passed out after seeing you in compression shorts.”
“I mean, I would say it was more of a dramatic collapse,” Theo grins. “You reached for me. There were arms.”
“ Please. I blacked out from pheromone overload,” I deadpan. “Let me have this.”
The others snort quietly. Finn’s hand curls tighter around mine, and though Jax doesn’t move, his whole body is tense. But the bond I have with him is there, steady and silent beneath my skin, thrumming through my chest like a grounding pulse. It keeps me calm, keeps me steady .
Rory’s jaw is locked, his eyes unreadable; and Theo’s smile is gone now—replaced by something older, something almost vulnerable.
“So… why not make it official?” I ask.
The words hang in the air, and I swear, for a moment it’s as though nobody breathes.
“You’re sure?” Theo says. “And not just—not just that you’re sure of the decision, but you’re sure that’s what you actually want ?”
I nod firmly. “I’m not doing this because they’re pressuring us. I’m doing this because I want to. Because I already chose you.”
“We don’t want to rush you,” Rory exhales, bracing his arms on the table. “This is… big.”
“It is big,” I agree. “But it doesn’t feel wrong.”
Finn smiles and leans in, his voice soft and perfect. “Then we’ll make it good. Safe. Real .”
“You’ve already made it all of that,” I smile back at him. “Now… let’s just finish what we started.”
And just like that, the tension in the room shifts. It’s still heavy, but now, it’s carrying momentum.
I said yes once, and I’m saying it again.
This time?
For all of us.