"The living room is the common space," I continue, ignoring him completely. "No fighting. If you want to brawl, do it outside. Go to the gym. Hit each other on the ice during practice. I do not care where, as long as it is not here. I do not want us getting in trouble with the administration because you cannot control your Alpha impulses."
Cal raises an eyebrow, still keeping one protective hand near his crotch just in case.
"Why do you care about that?"
"Because it goes against our grades and our standing here." I cross my arms. "Even if you guys are only here short-term, I am sure those strikes will have an impact on whether you are able to play or not. Disciplinary action, probation, suspensions from games. They take that stuff seriously here. Keep that in mind before you start throwing punches."
Cal frowns, exchanging a glance with Etienne that communicates volumes.
"Why do you care if we can play?"
I shrug, trying to find the right words.
"I do not care, specifically. About you personally." I uncross my arms, then cross them again, suddenly unsure what to do with my hands. "But it is clear that this school has a reputation. A good one. And that reputation can get you guys somewhere real. We should not be thinking short-term here."
I look at each of them in turn.
"Do you not have careers in mind? Potential dreams? Goals beyond just surviving the next few weeks?"
Silence.
The kind of silence that stretches too long and becomes heavy with unspoken things.
Even Rafe has stopped his dramatic hissing. He is still on the floor, but he is propped up on one elbow now, looking at me with an expression I cannot quite read. Something complicated. Something almost vulnerable beneath all that hostility.
"What?" I look between all three of them. "You are all on the junior hockey team. Talented enough to earn scholarships here. Do you not want careers out of this? Do you not dream of actually making it to the NHL? Playing professionally? Having your names on jerseys that kids wear?"
More silence.
I frown, genuinely confused now.
"Are you seriously telling me you are here for shits and giggles? That you do not have goals? That you are just... existing? Going through the motions without any vision of the future?"
Etienne is the one who finally breaks the silence.
"Well," he says slowly, his voice thoughtful and tinged with something that might be sadness, "no one has ever asked. Or cared. About that kind of stuff."
What?
I stare at them, processing this information.
Three elite athletes at a prestigious academy. Three Alphas with athletic scholarships and access to professional-level training and coaches who should be mentoring them toward careers. And no one has ever asked them what they actually want out of their futures?
That is... incredibly sad, actually.
"Well, start thinking about it," I say firmly. "We are not here to waste time. Figure out what you want and go after it. You have resources most people would kill for. Use them."
Rafe grumbles from the floor, finally hauling himself into a sitting position with a wince.
"Why the fuck are you here, then?" His voice is rough, still recovering from the ball assault. "What is your grand plan, Miss Life Coach? What dreams are you chasing?"
Fair question. Annoying, but fair.
I take a breath, debating how much to share. These are the people I will be living with for the next six weeks. We do not have to be friends, but maybe we should at least understand each other.
"Mama Dearest," I say, letting sarcasm drip from the words like honey laced with poison, "has decided that I need to be bonded before Valentine's Day. Packed up and shipped off to some pack she has pre-selected from her rolodex of wealthy, influential families. The best candidates, according to her exacting standards."
Cal's eyebrows shoot up toward his hairline. Etienne's expression shifts into genuine concern. Even Rafe looks vaguely interested, though he tries to hide it behind that permanent scowl.
