Not justprotect her.
Hunt her.
Taste her.
Explore every sharp edge and hidden place she’d never let anyone near.
I clenched my jaw and dragged my palm down my face.
Beta.
I wasbeta.
This wasn’t supposed tohappen.
But whatever she’d been hiding—whatever had beenshiftingin her,rising—it was starting to show. And if I could feel it?
The others would too.
Rhett already did. Roan had gone stiff the moment she entered a room. Even Beckett?—
My fists clenched.
Beckett knew.
He’d always been a predator, but now?
He was circling.
And Marchand was using her to lure him in.
“Fucking hell,” I muttered and turned on my heel.
She wasn’t in her office.
But that didn’t mean she wasn’t somewhere in the arena.
And if something was wrong?
I’d find her.
Chapter
Six
WREN
The ice was quiet this time of day.
No drills, no blades carving lines. Just the low hum of the refrigeration system beneath the surface and the occasional thud of a puck from a few rookies messing around at the far end of the rink.
I stood just outside the team bench tunnel, arms crossed, coat still on, the press corral half-visible from where I was positioned. Two cameras. One tablet. Four hungry little monsters in puffer coats pretending to check their notes instead of tracking me like prey.
Marchand stood beside me.
Too close.
His scent was clean and sharp—cologne, a hint of pine, and that underlying alpha static that never went away no matter how many boardrooms he sat in or how much silk he wore.
