Chapter 11
Chapter
Eleven
JAY
Roan was ice.
Rhett was fire.
I sat there in the passenger seat, just sane enough to hold the line while everything else frayed
None of us spoke as we pulled away from the arena, the engine humming low beneath Roan’s knuckles, white on the steering wheel.
Rhett had folded himself into the backseat like a storm cloud, radiating heat and twitchy, fight-me energy.
The kind of coiled aggression that begged for a target. Or a reason.
Too bad I wasn’t in the mood to give him one.
Roan had argued the moment I’d said it—We shouldn’t go there. We don’t know what we’re walking into.
Yeah. That was the point.
And maybe I should’ve backed off. Maybe if this had been anyone else—any other staff member who dropped off the radar—I would’ve let it go. Waited for a call. Trusted the system.
But this was Wren.
We didn’t have that luxury.
“If we’re wrong,” I told them in the garage, “then I’ll take the heat. I’ll eat every ounce of her fury. But at least I’ll know she’s okay.”
Neither of them could argue with that.
Not out loud.
It was the second half of my sentence that turned Roan’s head—especially with Rylan sniffing around—and after a long, icy pause, he just said, We’re taking my car.
So now, here we were.
Trapped in a car together for the next twenty-two minutes as we crossed town to her townhouse. It was a cute place located in a nice area. She had neighbors on one side and on the other, she sat right next to a greenbelt. I’d been to her place all of once before, but Roan didn’t even need GPS.
Not commenting on that for the moment, I focused on holding the line. While Roan clearly exerted his own brand of control, Rhett was not. Since they weren’t fighting at the moment, I’d count that as a win.
Her neighborhood was just like I remembered it. Clean. Quiet. One of those HOA places where every lawn was manicured and every porch had some kind of decoration for whatever season it was. Wren’s was the only one without anything. Of course.
Still… I caught myself wondering if she ever did it. Goth up the place for Halloween? A single snowflake in the window at Christmas?
Hard to picture.
Even in her office, holiday cheer was strategic—tasteful and minimal. The barest suggestion of celebration. Like everything else with her, it was curated. Intentional.
She showed the world the version of herself she wanted us to see. No more, no less.
Roan pulled into a spot right in front of her unit. Detached garages were tucked around the back, but the front had open street parking. I was already out of the SUV before he came to a full stop. Rhett was half a step behind me, tension thrumming off him in waves.
“She lives here?” Rhett asked, surprise briefly flashing across his face before it vanished under something darker. “How do you know where she lives?”
I didn’t answer. Neither did Roan.
He locked the car and strode up the short path to her front door. The breeze rolled down from the greenbelt, cool and earthy. Pine. Damp leaves. A little woodsmoke from someone’s chimney nearby.
Roan raised a hand to knock.
Then the wind died.
And Roan went still.
So did I.
Two steps away—and I felt it more than I smelled it at first. A shimmer of tension down my spine. Heat behind my teeth. Then the scent hit fully, and it was like the bottom dropped out of the world.
It was her.
But not just her.
It was Wren’s scent, stripped down to something feral. Softer in places, sharper in others. Complex and layered and… undeniably omega.
My breath caught.
Rhett stopped beside me with a sound between a grunt and a growl. His nostrils flared, eyes going sharp.
“Holy fuck,” he breathed.
Roan didn’t say a word.
He stood like a statue in front of the door, hand still raised, but he didn’t knock. Didn’t move.
Because what the hell were we supposed to do now?
None of us spoke it, but the truth crashed over us like a thunderclap.
She was in heat.
She had been hiding it.
And she was close.
The scent marker on the door was faint, but it was fresh. A warning to stay back. A primal signal that shouldn’t have belonged to her, yet it did.
I swallowed hard. My brain went static.
For years we’d known her as alpha. Professional. Composed. Untouchable.
But now?
There was no pretending anymore.
Rhett’s hand hit the siding next to the door with a low thump. “She’s alone in there,” he ground out. “She’s alone and she’s—she’s fucking glowing—”
“Stop,” Roan said.
His voice wasn’t loud, but it cut like ice.
He finally lowered his hand, his whole frame rigid with restraint. Not a single ounce of scent leaked from him, but I saw it in his shoulders—the pressure, the tightness.
He was unraveling just as much as we were.
But he wouldn’t show it.
Because he couldn’t.
“Don’t even think about crossing that line,” Roan said, looking straight at Rhett.
“Why?” Rhett snapped, his voice too raw. “Because it’s hers?”
“Yes,” Roan said simply. “Because it’s hers.”
That shut Rhett up.
I stared at the door. At the house that still smelled like her underneath the newly laid heat markers. Like cold steel and late nights and too much coffee. Like tension and intelligence and hunger repressed so tightly it left claw marks.
But that new layer…
God.
It sang to something in me.
Even as a beta, I wasn’t immune. Not to her.
Roan turned away, jaw clenched. “Back to the car.”
“You’re serious?” Rhett said, incredulous. “We’re just going to walk away?”
“No,” I said, clearing my throat and dragging my focus off the door. “We’re going to give her time. We’re going to give her space. And then we’re going to find a better way to do this.”
“If Rylan comes sniffing around?” Rhett’s voice was low, tight.
“Stop borrowing trouble.” Roan looked back at the townhouse once. Just once.
Whatever flickered through his eyes made my pulse skip. I buried that kneejerk reaction. “He isn’t the problem,” I said by way of agreement. “This is about Wren, not Rylan.”
Expression taut, Rhett looked like he was about to argue, but he surprised me when he didn’t. Instead, he just blew out a harsh breath. This whole thing seemed to be provoking their territorial sides. So, I leaned into keeping my breathing even, no good would come from all of us losing it.
We were quiet as we climbed back into the car.
Roan didn’t start the engine right away. Just stared out through the windshield like the answers might be hiding in the shape of the clouds.
“She’s not here,” he said finally.
I blinked. “What?”
“The scent markers are here,” he said, voice low, reluctant, “but they’re stale. Not today. Not even this morning. Two days old… at least.”
I frowned. That was subtle. I hadn’t picked that up. Rhett, based on his expression, hadn’t either.
Didn’t say much for the fact that none of us had caught her omega status before, either. That, however, was a fight for another day.
“She’s gone,” Roan added, confirming what we were all thinking.
“If she’s in heat,” I said, “and she isn’t here…”
“She went somewhere to ride it out,” Roan finished grimly.
Rhett didn’t hesitate. He was already digging his phone out of his jacket. “Okay. Okay, okay, hang on.”
I turned in my seat. “What are you doing?”
He didn’t even look up. “May or may not have logged into her cloud once.”
Roan turned slowly in the driver’s seat. “You what?”
“It was a dare!” Rhett said, eyes locked on the screen, thumbs flying. “One time. Preseason last year. I logged in, I logged right back out. Didn’t touch anything. But she never changed the password.”
I just stared at him. “You broke into her cloud on a dare?”
“Technically not broke,” he muttered. “More like…tapped gently.”
Roan just grunted, exasperation radiating off him in waves. “What’s the password?”
Rhett hesitated for half a beat. Then: “notyouralpha99. All lowercase. No special characters.”
There was a pause.
Roan’s brows lifted.
“That’s so her.” I snorted. “She knew we’d try.” A weird little spark of fondness cut through the tension in my chest.
Rhett grinned, wicked and sharp, even as his fingers flew. “Exactly. You think you’re special? You’re not. Get in line, cowboy.”
Roan looked like he wanted to roll his eyes, but didn’t give Rhett the satisfaction. “So? What are you looking for?”
“Anything tagged travel,” Rhett said. “Or remote. Or vacation. Or heat bunker deluxe, if we’re lucky.”
I sighed. “You think she left a digital trail.”
“I think she’s human,” Rhett said. “And she was under pressure. People slip when they’re scrambling.”
Though he looked unconvinced, Roan said nothing.
I twisted so I could watch as Rhett navigated folders and files and backups.
“She covered her tracks,” he muttered. “Mostly.”
“Mostly?” Roan asked, voice sharp.
Our resident hellion grinned. “Found a PDF itinerary in her deleted items. Cabin rental. Mountains. Four-hour drive. No return date listed.”
Jay whistled low. “You get an actual address?”
“Yep. Near Yellowstone.”
Roan sat back hard against the seat, muttering a curse under his breath.
I stared out the window, the weight of it all settling across my chest.
She hadn’t just hidden this.
She ran.
Far.
Now that we knew, the question wasn’t if we’d go after her. It was how fast we could get there. Roan didn’t say a word. He just reached over, hit the start button, and shifted the SUV into gear.
The moment the wheels hit the road, he thumbed the control on the steering wheel to dial out through the car’s Bluetooth.
Two rings.
Then: “Yeah, Whittaker?” Coach’s gravel-edged voice filled the cabin, tension already vibrating beneath the words.
Roan didn’t flinch. “We’re taking the next four days off.”
The silence that followed was so loud it made the air feel heavier.
“Excuse me?”
Roan didn’t blink. “The whole team needs to breathe. We’ll be back after that, ready to focus on the opposition. But the tension in the locker room? It’s past critical mass. You want them on the ice like this, Coach? You want that fire turning inward?”