Page 144 of Scrum Heat

Finn growls—audibly.

Theo’s shoved off the ball. When he turns, someone grins and says, “Hey,asshole—bet your omega’s getting real nervous, starting to see what amessyou all are.”

I see Theo’s fists clench, but Rory’s voice snaps across the field. “Breathe.”

We hold.Barely.

But Denton scores.

Quick off the ruck, down the blindside. Our cover’s late, and they take advantage.

We’re still ahead, but it’s close now.Tooclose.

And I feel it again—that buzz in my chest.

It’s not just the bond, not just the rage; but thefear.

They’re trying to rip us apart from the inside, and they’re getting closer than feels comfortable.

The kick resets. The whistle blows, boots pound, and everything in me tightens.

“Oi, Rivera,” someone mutters just behind me as we pack down for the scrum. “You the one who gets sloppy seconds, or do you just watch while therealalphas do the work?”

Rory growls from the front. Theo snarls something sharp under his breath, but I don’t move, and I don’t look back.

Finn stiffens beside me, but I let it land.

Let them think they’re winning.

“Didn’t peg you for the quiet type,” he adds, voice smug, just low enough that the ref can’t hear. “What’s the matter? Not man enough to hold her attention all by yourself?”

It takes everything within me not to react. I go back to a place mentally I swore I’d never go—to a time in my life where I didn’t have a voice, back to when I didn’t have my height, build, and fists on my side.

But I’m playing the game. Not just for me, not even just for her; but forus.

For my pack.

The ball comes out, and the ref resets us.

So. We go again.

The same idiot lines up near me this time—same number, same voice, same borrowed ego.

“She’s watching, you know,” he laughs. “Pretty little blond. Probably wondering if any of you are worth it.”

My head turns, and I meet his eyes for the first time.

He’s tense. Shoulders bunched too high, neck stiff, and jaw flexing like he’s chewing glass. His stance is off—too square, too set.

Good. If he swings first, then that means Itechnicallydidn’t start it, and if I retaliate, then I wastechnicallyjust defending myself.

“Funny,” I bite back, my voice low. “She hasn’t even noticed youexist.”

A few of the guys laugh around us, but I keep my eyes locked on him. I see it—the flicker of white-hot rage behind his eyes, the twitch in his hand, the way his shoulders drop just enough to get ready to throw.

I’ve just got to push him over the edge.

“Must be hard, getting ignored by someone you tried to jerk off to in a screenshot.”

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