Page 112 of Justice for Puck Bunnies

The guys hate having Brad as captain.

Who wants a high maintenance “beta” around with inconvenient heats and parents who randomly show up? Someone with no skills or job prospects, and the only money to her name has been given to her by the alpha sheltering her?

“I didn’t agree to it,” Trick insists.

“But you got the offer and didn’t say anything,” Mason says.

“There wasn’t time. Izzy—we all got sick, and then it was constant practice to get back in the game. There’s barely been time to breathe, let alone talk about this shit.”

“You didn’t reject it immediately,” Vin notes. “You were ready to throw her out?”

“No! I was fucking pissed when he said it, but we were surrounded by donors and cancer kids.”

“Ha!” Brad barks. “He had plenty of time to have a whole-ass conversation with me while you and Vin were groping my girl in public.”

“I suppose a guy like you would think standing next to a woman is groping her, given your ultimate alpha game,” Mason spits back.

A dramatic pause registers the words loudly in the dimming noise of the stadium. Brad’s face blows wide in shock.

“What the fuck does that mean?” he splutters, but it isn’t convincing.

“That’s what you call yourself, isn’t it? Your ultimate alpha game. Very embarrassing, man.”

Vin’s already got his phone out and the volume at max to display the video of Brad talking himself up in the mirror.

When it gets to the part where he slaps his own flexed bicep, Trick bursts out laughing.

“That’s fucked up!” he says though bellowed laughter. “Where’s that posted?”

“Everywhere,” Vin says with a smile. “Already has 890—excuse me, 900,000 views on Cl!ck.”

Brad explodes. He lunges for Mason, and Trick gets in the way to swing him around.

The three of them throw fists and kicks, all of which are aimed for damage zones.

“Which one of you fuckers did this?” Brad hollers.

Trick wrestles Brad off Mason, but Mason and Vin round on both of them.

“You seriously wanted to trade Izzy like some poker chip,” Vin accuses.

“No! I turned him down.”

Vin stalks over to where Trick and Brad are struggling, and he lands a hard punch to Trick’s gut.

“The fuck were you thinking giving her away like that?”

“I didn’t—”

Brad bursts out laughing.

The four of them clash again. The security guards do nothing. Granted, they’re both betas and probably have no interest in getting in the middle of several pro hockey players.

The fans snap pictures and hold their phones up to video the whole fight. The news reporter and her camera guy swing around to film what’s happening.

I stagger away until my back hits the wall on the other side of the wide hallway.

I cross my arms and attempt desperately to keep the tears from falling.

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