Green eyes fixed on the whiteboard behind Coach Mercer's head, his expression locked in the neutral setting that functions as his emotional firewall, the barrier he raises when the conversation threatens to reach something he has decided the world is not permitted to access.
He is ignoring me.
This man just listened to a comprehensive tactical evaluation of his athletic abilities delivered by an Omega who has been analyzing hockey performance since she was six years old, and he is responding with the communicative generosity of a concrete pillar.
I huff.
"You and the whole silent treatment act is going to force you to lose opportunities." I cross my arms, tilting my head with the specific angle I deploy when I am about to say the quiet part out loud. "Among other things."
He chokes on his own saliva.
The sound is immediate, involuntary, and thoroughly gratifying. A sharp, strangled inhale that catches in his throat and produces a coughing fit he attempts to suppress through jaw clenching and sheer force of dignity. His face, previously neutral, flushes across the cheekbones and the bridge of his freckled nose with a pink that his wire-rimmed frames cannot conceal.
Coach Mercer is smirking. The expression has graduated from amused to entertained, his eyebrow arching in my direction with the measured curiosity of a man who is recalibrating his assessment of the dynamic between the two students sitting in his chairs.
"What?" I meet his arched eyebrow with the unflinching sincerity of a woman who considers herself a public service provider. "I'm stating fact."
"That ain't ladylike, Holloway."
The observation arrives with a dry humor that tells me Coach Mercer is testing me rather than correcting me, his tone carrying the specific lightness of a man who wants to see what kind of response his comment provokes.
I laugh. The sound is bright and genuine and carries the specific frequency of a woman who has been told to be ladylike so many times that the phrase now functions as a punchline rather than an instruction.
"If you're trying to find a traditional Omega, Coach, you better go looking at the squealing Omegas drooling over your Rafe dude." I gesture vaguely toward the rink beyond the office walls. "The one who just walked off the ice after getting outskated by an Omega and apparently has an older brother who materialized from France like some sort of hockey-playing romantic lead in a foreign film."
Coach Mercer chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest with the warm bass of a man who is genuinely amused rather than performing politeness.
"Older brother. Raphaël Calder. Excellent captain and player abroad. Spent the last decade in the European leagues building a reputation that most North American players would trade their signing bonuses for." He leans back in his chair, the springs protesting with a squeak that harmonizes with his next sentence. "I requested him to come specifically because we need all hands on deck with his caliber of skill if we want a legitimate shot at the initial playoffs."
He pauses.
"Which is exactly why I brought both of you into my office."
My grin fades. Replaced by the focused attention that activates in my brain when a coach transitions from pleasantries to purpose. Beside me, I sense Archie's posture shift by a fraction, the barely perceptible forward lean of a man whose selective hearing has suddenly decided this conversation qualifies for full-spectrum reception.
Coach Mercer rises from his desk and crosses to the whiteboard. A dry-erase marker appears in his hand with the practiced efficiency of a man for whom whiteboard presentations are a primary language, and he begins drawing while he talks.
"Valenridge University was established thirty years ago with a specific mandate." The marker traces a timeline across the top of the board, dates and labels appearing in the compact, angular handwriting of a coach whose penmanship has been optimized for speed rather than aesthetics. "The founders recognized that Alpha populations in competitive age brackets were producing escalating rates of behavioral incidents. Aggression. Territorial violence. The kind of testosterone-fueled confrontation that results in property damage, interpersonal harm, and theoccasional emergency room visit that nobody wants to explain to insurance providers."
He draws a stick figure beneath the timeline that is either a hockey player or a very aggressive potato.
"The solution was competitive athletics. Specifically, contact sports with structured rules and sanctioned physicality. Give the Alphas an outlet. Channel the aggression into something productive before it finds a target that cannot fight back." He taps the potato-player with the marker cap. "Hockey was the optimal choice. It combines physical intensity with strategic complexity. It requires discipline, teamwork, and the willingness to accept authority from a coaching structure. And it provides a sanctioned environment for hitting things very hard without the legal consequences that hitting things very hard typically generates."
I grin from ear to ear.
The description is so accurate, so clinically devastating in its assessment of Alpha biology and its institutional management, that my face cannot contain the satisfaction. My lips stretch until my cheeks ache, my green eyes bright with the vindicated glee of an Omega who has been saying this about Alphas her entire life and has just heard a professional coach confirm it with dry-erase illustrations.
Archie rolls his eyes.
"Move that smirk off your face."
I smirk harder. The expression escalates in direct proportion to his irritation, my lips curling with the specific malice of a woman who has found a button and intends to press it until the battery dies.
Coach Mercer returns to his seat, capping the marker.
"The hockey program has been Alpha-exclusive for three decades. This season marks the first time the university is integrating Omegas into competitive play, which is why you'reboth here." He folds his hands on the desk, his expression transitioning from entertainer to strategist. "But I've been informed of a structural change that affects how we approach the playoffs."
He looks between us.
