He didn’t look at me. “If we cross a line?—”
“We’re not animals, Roan.”
Jay didn’t say anything, but his gaze flicked sharply to the stairwell at the other end of the arena and the door opening at the top.
Then I saw her. Wren. Her dark coat sharp against the neutral tones of the arena halls. Head held high, tablet in hand, stride clipped and professional as always in her knee-high boots that always looked damn good on her.
And right beside her?
Beckett.
Flanking her on the other side—Marchand.
I stilled.
The way Beckett leaned just a fraction too close. The way he was smiling like he knew something we didn’t. The way Wren’s spine stayed too straight, like she was bracing herself through the whole thing.
Roan must have tracked what I was looking at. His body tensed, subtle but unmistakable.
“Where are they going?” I asked.
“Owner’s box,” Jay said.
“For lunch,” Roan added. His voice was flat, but his fists were clenched at his sides.
“Did she agree to that?” I asked. “Or is she being used to spin whatever dumbass narrative Marchand’s cooking up this time?”
None of us had an answer for that.
And none of us moved.
We just stood there—three guys who’d spent years pretending we didn’t notice her. That we didn’tfeelanything.That it was all just banter and team dynamics and maybe a crush or two we’d outgrow.
But right now?
Right now, I wanted to storm up there and plant myself between her and that smug bastard like a goddamn wall. Judging by how tense Roan was next to me, I wasn’t the only one.
Jay broke the silence first. “You still think this isn’t our business?”
Roan didn’t answer.
Because deep down, he had to know—something was shifting. It wasn’t just Wren.
We stood there too long until all three were out of sight.
None of us said anything for a beat—not until the elevator doors swallowed them up.
Then Jay said, "We staying or heading out?"
Roan ran a hand down his face. “We’re grabbing lunch.”
That wasn’t what hemeantthough. It was dismissal. A clean cut.
“Seriously?” I said, turning to him. “You saw that little power play Marchand just pulled. You’re the captain. If he’s trying to woo Beckett back to the Howlers, you should be in that room.”
Roan didn’t blink. “No.”
“You don’t think it matters?”
