I was halfway to the auxiliary lot when the wind cut across my jaw and dragged the memory up from nowhere.
The first time I saw her.
Not on paper. Not in the team reports. Not the dry HR onboarding where they tell you who does what and who to nod at on the way in.
No, I meanreallysaw her.
I’d just been signed. The press conference had ended, sweaty and hot under the lights, with the owners posturing about the “future of the Howlers.” I’d been handed a fresh jersey. Cameras still flashing.
Then the crowd had parted, and there she was.
Boots planted. Black coat sharp as hell. Clipboard in one hand, coffee in the other. Sunglasses still on indoors, mouth curled into something too amused to be polite.
She took one look at me and said, “If you ever call me sweetheart, I’ll have your trade paperwork filed before you finish blinking.”
No scent flare. No hesitation.
Just cold wit and sharper eyes.
I’d never seen anyone carry that much command without raising their voice.
More impressively, I’d never forgotten it. It was the rare alpha who could put me in my place so thoroughly. My dominance was just too damn much. I’d learned to temper it to make it easier for others, but with Wren?
She’d blown right through me like that breeze.
Even now, as I jogged across the lot and spotted Rhett’s ridiculous cherry-red muscle car parked half out of its lane, I remembered the way she’d tipped her head that first day. Measured. Like she could already tell I’d be trouble.
She’d been right.
If I didn’t stop these two idiots, we’d all be in deeper than we knew.
I caught them halfway to the car.
Rhett’s keys were already in hand, Jay a few steps behind, scanning the lot like he half-expected her to materialize out of thin air with her sunglasses in place and a familiar, if tolerant, smirk on her lips. They hadn’t seen me yet, and for a second, I debated letting them drive off. Let them make idiots of themselves, get it out of their system.
Then I saw the look in Rhett’s eyes—too bright, too wild. And Jay’s—cool, yes, but with the tightness of someone balancing a storm inside his ribs.
They weren’t just restless. They were about to do something very,verystupid.
So I moved.
“Going somewhere?” I kept it calm. Level. Like I was asking about lunch plans instead of stopping two grown men from detonating both their careers.
Rhett froze, his whole posture coiling, before he turned with that trademark half-grin that always meant trouble. “What, you gonna stop us, Captain?”
“Didn’t say that.” I slid my hands into my pockets, put on a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “Just making sure no one thinks the three of us are about to start a brawl in broad daylight. Bad for optics, you know.”
Jay got it immediately. His chin tipped, the faintest flicker of acknowledgment. Rhett, though—shocker—clearlywasn’tin the mood for subtle.
“Optics?” he repeated, voice sharpening. “You think I give a damn about optics right now?”
“Yeah,” I said. “You do. Or you will. After you cool off.”
I kept my tone easy, the kind that played well on camera, the kind Wren herself used when corralling one of us mid-meltdown. Hell, I’dlearnedit from her.
But Rhett just stepped closer. “She’s out there somewhere, Roan. Alone. And you’re telling me to cool off?”
“She probably needed space and a break.” If I had to deal with Marchand daily as well as the rest of us, I’d already be bald from ripping out my own hair.
