The file I reviewed on the flight mentioned her.
Mabeline Mae Rose. Twenty-four years old. Packless. Late presentation at nineteen, which explained the absence of a formal pack bond. Accepted to Valenridge on a full academic scholarship, though her athletic background suggested she could have pursued a sports track if circumstances had been different. Former figure skating prodigy. Coach Rose's daughter.
Her birthday is coming up.
Valentine's Day, according to the documentation. An Omega born on the day dedicated to romantic love, carrying a scent that makes every Alpha in her vicinity lose their ability to think clearly.
The universe has a sense of humor.
The fact that she does not have a pack intrigues me more than it should. An Omega of her quality, with her looks, herskills, her sharp wit and sharper tongue, should have been claimed years ago. The fact that she remains packless suggests either extraordinary circumstances or deliberate choice, and something about the defiance in her hazel eyes tells me it is the latter.
She chose to stay alone.
Which makes me want to understand why. And what it would take to change her mind.
I open my eyes, sensing observation before I confirm it visually.
Knox and Laurent are staring at me.
Standing approximately six feet away, positioned like sentinels guarding a door they were forced to leave, they watch me with the evaluative intensity of Alphas who have identified a threat but have not yet decided how to neutralize it. Knox's amber eyes carry a suspicious glint, his arms crossed to mirror my posture. Laurent's storm-blue gaze is quieter, more analytical, studying me with the careful attention of someone cataloging details for future reference.
I smirk.
"What is up?"
Knox's frown deepens.
"Are you literally Rafe's brother?" He says it like an accusation, like I have committed a crime by sharing DNA with the man whose name he just spat into the hallway air. "Because I have known him the longest of anyone in our pack, and he never once mentioned your existence. Not once. In four years of living together, training together, playing on the same team, the guy never said, hey Cal, just so you know, I have an older brother in Paris who looks like the premium version of me and might show up one day to make my life difficult."
I chuckle, the sound echoing against the institutional walls.
"He surely did not mention me because he is a competitive asshole who does not enjoy admitting that anyone else in the Calder bloodline might cast a shadow longer than his." I shrug, unbothered by the assessment I just offered of my own brother. "But yes. We are related. Pretty obvious with the looks, would you not say? Though he inherited our father's temper while I inherited our mother's demeanor."
Laurent's eyebrow arches.
"Why are you showing up now?" His voice is calmer than Knox's, but the question carries the same weight. "Like, where have you been otherwise? Rafe acts like he is an only child. He has never talked about family, about parents, about anyone who might be connected to him outside of hockey. And now you just appear out of thin air, catching Omegas mid-flight and announcing yourself as Captain Calder like we are supposed to accept it without question."
Fair enough.
I push off the wall, sliding my hands into my pockets with a casualness I do not entirely feel. The scent of vanilla and roses is still curling through my awareness, making it difficult to concentrate on logistics when my hindbrain is screaming at me to walk back into that room and stand guard over my mate.
Not your mate yet. Slow down, Raphaël. You have known this girl for less time than it takes to play a single period of hockey.
"My parents caught on early that I was gifted," I explain, keeping my voice neutral. "Different kind of gifted than the standard athletic prodigy route. Academic. Cognitive processing that tested off the charts for a five-year-old, which made their local schools nervous about how to handle me. So they sent me abroad to study. Eight years old when I left, maybe younger, I honestly cannot remember the exact age anymore. It blurstogether when you spend your childhood bouncing between institutions that treat you like a project instead of a person."
I pause, letting the information settle.
"I have bounced between France, Germany, and Italy for most of my life. Scholarships covered the academic side. Once I got into sports and started performing at a competitive level, the athletic programs covered everything else. I go wherever the opportunities take me, and the opportunities have taken me a lot of places."
Knox and Laurent exchange a look.
The kind of silent communication that develops between packmates who have spent years learning to read each other's expressions. Whatever passes between them in that glance, they reach a temporary consensus.
"So you are going to attend the university?" Knox asks. "Just like that? Transfer in from Paris and become a student here?"
I shrug.
"That part remains unclear. Coach Mercer requested my help with your teams specifically. He has faith in both the junior and senior squads, but there are issues that need addressing before the preliminary rounds. I am here to aid with the preparation, observe the dynamics, provide guidance where needed. My contract either ends when you reach the initial playoffs or I continue to assist if the arrangement proves mutually beneficial."
