I'd showered at the stadium. At the hotel. I scrubbed until my skin was raw. But I could still smell her on me. In me. The bond that should have been ours—mine, Fritz's, Hastings'—had been tainted before we'd even had a chance to build it properly.
As I walked into the townhouse, the pack scent hit, making me groan.
Vanilla. Rain. Leather. And the heavy, oppressive cedarwood that belonged to Hastings.
But it was the leather that wasn’t mine that was now everywhere. It coated the back of my throat. I hated the scents had merged, twisted together in a way that made my alpha howl with rage.
She smelled like him now.
I dropped my kit bag in the hallway, the thud echoing through the silent house. My boots left wet prints on the pristine marble.
I didn't want to be here. I wanted to be back in the mud, where the rules were simple and a foul was called when someone cheated.
The house was too quiet. Too everything that Hastings demanded and controlled.
I found him in the dining room.
He looked as polished as a fresh-cut diamond, seated at the head of the table—because of course he was at the head—with a tablet propped up in front of him. His suitwas pressed. His hair was perfect. His tie was knotted ready for his day at work.
He was probably reviewing a plan. He always found a logical solution to every human problem.
"You cheated," I said.
My voice sounded like I'd been swallowing glass. Raw and jagged and barely holding together.
Hastings didn't look up immediately. He finished scrolling, his fingers moving with a clinical precision that made my jaw ache. My hands curled into fists at my sides.
"It's biology, Etienne. Not a game of cards." His voice was calm, and infuriatingly rational. "She’s a four-scent match. The probability of finding her was less than zero. I didn't 'cheat.' I secured the pack's future."
"You secured your own need," I snapped.
I moved toward the table, my boots leaving damp, earthy tracks on the white marble. Mud flaked off with every step. I didn't care. Let him see what real mess looked like.
"We agreed. Together. We were supposed to build the bond as a unit. You didn't give her a choice. You didn't give us a choice."
"Choice is a luxury for those who don't understand math." He finally looked up, his gray eyes flat, devoid of the guilt I wanted to see. Needed to see. "She is the missing piece of the puzzle. To me, Presley isn't just an omega; she is a biological necessity. My need was instinctual. I didn't want her just for me; I wanted her for thepack. I articulated the need the only way a man in my position can."
"You articulated it by biting her neck while the rest of us were waiting for a green light."
The words came out as a growl. My alpha was too close to the surface, pushing at my control, demanding I do something. He wanted to reclaim what had been taken.
But Hastings was my pack. My brother. And that's what made this so much worse.
"She presented to me," Hastings said, his voice dropping. "She tilted her head back and offered me her neck. I didn't force her. I didn't coerce her. She wanted it."
"She was in heat."
"She was lucid."
"Was she?" I leaned forward, my hands bracing on the table. "Or was she out of her mind with need and you took advantage of biology to get what you wanted first?"
His jaw tightened. The first crack in his perfect composure.
"I would never—"
"Wouldn't you?" I straightened, stepping back before I did something stupid. Like punch him. "You're the king of calculated risks, Henry. You always have been. You saw an opportunity and you took it. Don't dress it up as pack welfare when we both know you wanted her for yourself."
The door to the kitchen creaked open.
