Page 39 of Chaos At Second Sight

The moment Pamela pointed at me, I straightened. “You’re on my team, Logan!”

My eyes shot straight to Bunny Doc. Her lips tucked inward. Excellent.

Bunny Doc was quite the possessive type, though at first glance she didn’t look like that at all.

I grinned. Up until now, jealousy was a trait I disliked, but I found it very entertaining in Yvaine.

Whistling, I strolled over and high-fived Pamela.

“I choose Lachy!” Yvaine called out.

My grin vanished. Of course she did.

“Nice. They’ve got no chance, sis,” the Islander said with an arrogance that I would send six feet below the ground.

The twins then launched into some bizarre high-five ritual, complete with a coordinated spin and their fingertips meeting above their heads. My lips twitched into a reluctant smile. Sure, he irritated me on a spiritual level, but I was glad Yvaine had him. For all his flaws, the Islander was a good brother.

The teams filled up quickly, with twelve players on each side. Uncle Clyde, some cousins, the pack priest, and more random MacKenzies landed on my team.

Some guy on her team, who looked like a mop, wrapped my mate in a hug, exceeding my zero-second allowance limit.

I popped my knuckles. My eyes followed The Mop jogging away. Yeah, smile…while you still can.

The opposing team won the coin toss and got the kickoff. Normally, the ball had to be fought for, but this was a friendly game. Boring.

I glanced toward Yvaine, who was busy stretching and rotating her hips. Should I let her team win? Nah. I was too competitive. Mate or not, my team was winning.

I scanned her relatives on the opposing team.

Don’t hurt her family.

Don’t hurt her family.

Don’t hurt⁠—

My eyes landed on Lachlan. No promises there.

Across the line of scrimmage, he bent into position for the hike and fucking smirked up at me.

I smirked back, my fangs glinting.

Oh, it’s on.

After the gong sounded, Lachlan threw the ball toward one receiver at the 20-yard line. The Mop. What a beautiful coincidence.

I sprinted.

The Mop shuffled back, scanning the field for an opening, but with a “Boo!” shouted in his face, I cut in front of him and plucked the ball straight out of the air.

My elbow snapped out, landing on breakable ribs. When he hit the ground, my foot also happened to come down on his belly.

“Argh!”

The sound reminded me of a kicked Labrador.

“Oops, sorry, dude.” I glanced down. “Didn’t see ya there.”

I hauled him upright with one hand while launching the ball with the other, my eyes on it.