Chapter Twenty-Four
Rory
T he house is quiet when we get back.
Frankie disappeared up to her room the second we walked in. Not in a bad way—at least, I don’t think so. Just tired; worn thin and drained. She gave Theo a soft smile, squeezed Finn’s hand, nodded once at Jax—and then she was gone. Maybe to shower. Maybe to breathe.
Probably to process the fact that the board of the Alderbridge RFC and the Omega Safety Compliance Board are now both apparently invested in her reproductive future.
I should check on her.
Instead, I pace.
The living room feels too hot. The hallway feels too loud. So I end up in the backyard, where it’s quiet, but not still.
My head’s not still.
Everything is… messy. And I fucking hate messy.
It’s only a few more days until we play Denton Vale. If we win, we go top of the leaderboard. If we go top of the leaderboard, we’re in the final. And if we make the final, the scouts will be there.
Regional-level. Semi-pro contracts.
Real careers.
This isn’t just a game anymore. I’ve spent ten years chasing this—built this team from the inside out. I’ve trained hungover, played through injuries, even covered other people’s rent when it came to it. I’ve dragged Finn out of corners he didn’t know he’d backed into, made Theo look like a saint against all odds when it really mattered, and sat in Jax’s room for hours when he wouldn’t speak. I’ve held this team together with duct tape, rage, and twenty-six different color-coded spreadsheets.
Now we’re here, and the thing that could tear it all down…
Is Frankie.
It’s not her fault; I know that. She’s not the problem—but the attention is. The headlines. The suspicion. The quiet murmurs of " is it safe ?" and " is this compliant ?" and “ aren’t you worried about scent aggression ?” Somewhere along the way, she’s become the headline, the problem, the anomaly —
But the only thing wrong with this pack is that she wasn’t in it sooner, and I’ll quite gladly die on that hill.
She said she wants us, that she wants this . That she’s already claimed us in every way that matters, except the one.
I don’t understand it, but fuck, I want to believe it. I do.
Still, if we do this—if we all bond her—it’s forever. It’s instinct, sure, but it’s more than that. It’s obligation. Loyalty . It’s waking up every morning knowing someone else’s happiness, safety, whole damn life is threaded into yours.
Am I ready for that, at twenty-four years old?
I run a hand over the back of my neck. The air is cool now—damp with the kind of breeze that tells you it’ll rain tomorrow.
The door creaks open behind me, but I don’t turn.
Bare feet on grass. A sigh so loud and theatrical it might as well have an intermission and an interval ice cream.
“You gonna pace a trench into the lawn, or can I join you in your brooding silence?”
“Do whatever you want,” I mutter.
Theo drops down onto the patio like it’s his throne, leaning back on his elbows and staring up at the sky. We sit in silence long enough for the back door to click shut behind us, and the faint sounds of Finn rustling around in the kitchen drift through the air.
He’s probably stress-baking again. He made an entire banana bread army last week.
“She’s not scared,” Theo says eventually.
I glance at him. He’s looking straight ahead.
“She’s not panicking. Not spiraling. Not hiding in a hoodie with five anxiety cookies in her mouth—which, by the way, is what I would be doing.”
“Yeah, well, you’re always eating.”
“It’s called coping , Rory. You should try it. Might loosen up your spine.”
I snort, but I don’t argue.
He sobers again. “She chose us. You get that, right?”
“I get it.”
“Then why do you look like you’re trying to telepathically explode the rhododendrons?”
“Because this is a mess,” I snap, frowning at him. “We’ve got a board review in three days . The OSC and Denton Vale breathing down our necks. I’ve got an omega in a nest upstairs, and two forwards arguing in the locker room about protein powder brands.”
Theo hums. “So... a normal week?”
I shoot him a look.
“Fine,” he says. “Okay. Not normal. This is… chaos. But it’s not bad chaos. It’s good chaos. Sexy chaos. Bonding chaos.”
“You need to stop saying the word chaos.”
“You need to stop clenching your jaw.”
I drag a hand through my hair, then drop it with a sigh.
“You know what’s insane?” I ask, half-laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. “We’re top of the fucking table. One game away from the final.”
Theo nods. “I know.”
“If we get through… shit. Scouts will be there, Theo. This isn’t the time to be focusing on anything but the game. Right now, I should only be worrying about footwork, and defensive setups, and whether Ollie’s learned how to tie his own boots yet.”
Theo shrugs. “Yeah, but instead you’re thinking about your omega and her gorgeous mouth and how much you want to bond her.”
“I’m not—” I start.
He raises an eyebrow.
“So what if I am? That doesn’t mean I’m not thinking about the rest of it.” I grit my teeth. “I just feel like I should be more focused on the game.”
“You ever think… maybe it’s not one or the other?”
“What?”
“Maybe we don’t have to choose between the pack and the club. Between the win and the bond. Maybe we get both.”
“Since when are you the optimist?”
“I’m not,” he says. “I’m the reckless flirt with a superiority complex and a disturbing attachment to his omega’s socks.”
That actually makes me huff a laugh.
“But you said it yourself,” Theo continues, voice a little softer. “We’re top of the league. We’re good. We’re better than we’ve ever been. And you know why?”
I glance at him.
“Because of her,” he says simply. “Because we finally stopped pretending we weren’t missing something. She filled in the cracks.”
I don’t say anything for a long moment, processing his words.
He’s right. And I hate how much I needed someone else to say it out loud.
“She’s good for you,” Theo says, quieter now. “You don’t have to say it. I’ve seen it.”
“I don’t know how to give her what she needs,” I admit, the words dragging out of me like they weigh something. “I’m used to holding everything together. Planning. Fixing. I’ve been the one people look to since I was ten years old. I don’t lead with instinct—I lead because someone has to.”
“You don’t have to be instinct,” Theo says. “You just have to be there . She doesn’t need fireworks. She needs someone who shows up. And Rory?”
He nudges my arm.
“You’ve been showing up since day one.”
I look out at the garden again. The moon’s rising, casting silver light across the grass. The air smells like freshly cut clover and something faint—lavender, maybe. Probably one of Finn’s experimental wax melts.
“I just don’t want to mess it up,” I murmur.
“You won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No,” Theo agrees. “But I do know that if you overthink this to death and try to logic your way out of happiness, I’m going to throw your planner in the lake.”
I side-eye him. “You wouldn’t dare.”
He grins. “Don’t test me. You know I don’t fear authority.”
“Your dad practically writes policy, Theo.”
“And I’ve disappointed him for ten straight years. I’m very consistent.”
I shake my head, smiling despite myself.
There’s a long pause, and then Theo says, quieter, “She’s ours, Rory. She chose us. All that’s left is for us to show her she was right.”
I exhale, and for the first time all night, something inside me eases.
We sit there together, not speaking. Two alphas. Two idiots.
One omega upstairs—
And everything about to change.