The secondI step onto the sidewalk, they are behind me. Three shadows moving in sync. Silent. Steady. Unshakable.
I barely hold back my irritation. Not one, but three. He really assigned three men to watch me, like I need protection.
This isn’t protection. It’s an invasion. A full-scale, alpha-laced, testosterone-drenched invasion of my personal space. I don’t bother acknowledging them. If I look too closely, I’ll just get annoyed—or worse, curious.
I keep my strides long and clipped, ignoring the driver waiting with the door open. Not a chance in hell. I’m not getting in a car with them. Not when the air feels this thick. Not when I’m this close to my heat and one wrong look could turn my irritation into something stupid and impulsive.
I’ll walk. I need to walk.
I pass a coffee shop window and catch their reflections again. Still there. Still behind me.
They don’t speak. Don’t ask questions. They just follow, carved from stone, every step carrying the weight of men who expect obedience without resistance. That alone makes me want to turn around and flip them off.
But I don’t.
Because they’re not just alphas. They’re his solution. My father’s idea of control dressed up in the thin disguise of concern. And I know he thinks he’s doing the right thing.
And maybe that’s the part that twists the knife.
I pick up my pace, boots clicking against the concrete.They match it without effort. One of them moves slightly ahead, a subtle shift that puts him between me and a group of men approaching on the sidewalk. I scowl but say nothing.
Because the worst part is, some traitorous part of me notices. Appreciates it even.
God, what is wrong with me? I’m clearly broken. Having them follow me everywhere is going to get old fast. I’m sure of it.
Explaining them to the team will be fun. I can picture it now. Daisy’s teasing. Knox’s eye roll. Twinkle’s curiosity. Maybe if I ignore them, they will disappear.
It’s not them I’m really mad at,I remind myself. It’s the fact that my father thinks I need them at all.
Finn isn’t dangerous. The thought rings hollow, even in my own head. Because, if I’m honest, I don’t know what Finn is. And he did scare me last night. Not enough for me believe I need bodyguards…but he did have me looking over my shoulder after that.
He let me go, sure. But only after he got what he wanted; one final, close-up picture before stepping back, watching me with those unsettlingly adoring eyes, leaving me rattled and gripping the sink, desperate for something solid to hold onto.
His parting words weren’t a goodbye. They were a promise.
"See you at the next game, Willow."
The memory skates over my skin, a shiver I refuse to acknowledge.
Because the worst part is, it wasn’t just fear that curled in my gut when he whispered it. It was something else. A flicker of something deep, buried under layers of self-preservation. Obviously my self-preservation is broken.
Because Finn might have a few screws loose, but his attention—the all-consuming focus, the way his eyes never leave me, as though nothing else exists—presses against my still-bruised heart, a twisted sort of balm. And that’s what really scares me.
I pick up my pace, the heels of my boots clicking faster against the pavement, trying to outrun the feeling. The three alphas match my stride effortlessly.
And I hate that part of me wonders, just for a split second, what it would mean to still be the girl I was before Landon. If I hadn’t learned the hard way that forever is just another word for temporary. And my heart wasn’t shattered.
CHAPTER 3
Willow
To sayI regret choosing to walk is an understatement—my feet are killing me. And I feel like the little girl in theAnniemovie when she’s searching the city for her.Oh my goodness, oh my goodness.Except I’m not openly complaining. Yet. I pause, and instantly, my three shadows pull up short.
I turn toward them, hands planted on my hips. “If you're going to stalk me, I should at least know your names.”
The one with storm-gray eyes scowls at me, while the tall, dark, and handsome guy glares silently. Clearly, they both graduated from the same bodyguard school. The third, deceptively calm, smiles slightly, his gaze drifting from my head down to my toes and back again.
“Spicy,” he whistles. “We haven’t watched a spicy omega before.”
