Page 51 of Justice for Puck Bunnies

She’s probably convinced herself that Brad chasing after us and trying to blow us up is a good thing. Like maybe Brad’s desperate to have her back, even if it’s also evidence that he hasn’t learned a fucking thing.

“Well, never mind then,” Mason says cooly.

Several moments of silence have passed while I contemplated... all of that.

“I want you to stay,” I reply. “Don’t read into the pause. You caught us off-guard. I don’t know that the three of us are ready for that conversation yet, so I’d like to just ask you not to leave.”

We have an omega now, and that means we need at least two alphas.

An omega we can’t keep.

An omega we have to protect all the same—whether from Brad, the Admin, or ourselves.

He might be pack.

And so might she.

Trick muttered something about a scent match once. I dismissed it as something I’d misheard, but the draw to her is so strong...

Scent matches are rare but not unheard of. It’s hard to say when she’s on the suppressants. Even with her scent muted, my attention is drawn to her every time we’re in the same room.

A match or not, I want her.

Trick pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “Fine, what’s the condition?”

“You’re doing it with me. Swing the sword yourself and all that.”

“You realize I’ve been training with Estie for years?”

“Nope, I only heard his name for the first time 30 seconds ago. Doesn’t matter to me, though. You and I both know our captain deserved what he got. I think you’re secretly proud of me. If you’re gonna punish me for it, you’ll be coming along for the ride.”

“It’s not a punishment. It’s development.”

“Why are you arguing? You just told me you already train with him. If you want me to stay, I need to know there’s a push-pull here and not simply your way or the highway.”

Trick clenches his jaw, but I can tell he’s going to agree. He’s not used to me challenging him. Being at home, in the house, isn’t like being on the team. Trick expects to be the lead alpha.

But Mason’s right too—that doesn’t mean Mason gets no say.

“Fine. We’re in the gym at seven.”

“Deal.”

“Now that we’re squared away, I need to hit the head,” I say. “Mase, you’ve got another ten minutes on the ice anyway.”

He grunts, but I don’t give either of them a chance to argue. I slip out into the hall and head toward the locker room to take a leak.

My phone chimes, and I find a message from my sister asking if I’m coming to Ma’s next week.

Shit. I missed Friday night dinner again. Denny made me promise not to drop off the planet when the season started and I’m already failing.

As I make my way through the locker room doors, I shoot off a quick text apologizing and promising to be there.

In the echoes of the tiled room, sound bounces off the hard surfaces and carries the voice of someone speaking.

And I know that voice.

On quiet feet, I creep toward the row of sinks.

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