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Smith mutters something about going to speak to the team managers, straightening his sleeves and fidgeting with his not-a-pocket-square again. We all look at each other when he stalks off, wondering what we’ve missed.
Has his internal curtain been drawn like that all day? What for?
Remi doesn’t know either. She chews on her lower lip, anxiety bleeding into her chest. Damon and I wrap her in a two-sided hug. “He’s just stressed about the contract shit,” I mumble. “He’ll be back soon.”
We’re here early, even for us. Plenty of time for Damon to indulge his Alpha’s instinct to stuff Rems full of food. He gets her a soft pretzel and a pornographically large hotdog, purring and petting her loose curls while he feeds her both by hand.
She accepts his overattentive fussing with sweet smiles and little bursts of bemusement. I keep an eye on our surroundings, grappling with my own impulses. The need to protect feels particularly urgent. When I spot the sleezy reporter who tried to corner Remi at her first game, I know why.
He’s watching the three of us, a phone dangling from his hand. I’m sure he’s already taken a dozen pictures, but none of us react. We already decided, as a pack, that we don’t care what the press reports. It won’t change anything for us.
So let them take pictures of the marks on Remi’s throat and her shoulder.
Let everyone in the whole damn world know she’s ours.
Smith reappears about twenty minutes later, holding a folder and striding right toward us. He waves a hand over his shoulder, sending us a smile and a beat of impatience that makes no sense. “Come on.”
We all batter him with questions while we follow him out of the main, public area of the arena, into the bowels below. There are offices down here, along with our locker rooms, equipment, and medical facilities.
Once we get to the carpeted hallway, I realize there are a lot of administrative staffers here. They usually don’t have to come in for weekend games.
Maybe, because of the playoffs…?
But everyone seems distinctly harried while they rush from one office to another, carting boxes or stacks of files. Damon’s brow knits. He feels stupid for not immediately understanding and I send him a pulse of you’re not alone.
“What’s, uh, happening?” he asks, releasing Remi to turn in a half circle. “Are people moving offices?”
Smith nods. “Yes, I’ve restructured some things down here.”
D and I both blink at him, each vaguely wondering if he’s finally cracked. What makes him think he can come down here and give orders?
Remi figures it out first, of course. Her eyes drop to the folder in his hand and fly back up to his face. “You didn’t,” she breathes.
But she knows he did.
He bought the team.
Her dazed realization reverberates through all of us. Damon balks. My jaw drops. Smith’s features pull into a cringe.
My mind races, recalling odd memories that seemed off at the time, but make sense, now. Like his lack-of reaction to hearing Damon walked off the ice for Remi’s heat. The muttered phone calls he made the day we all finally came out of the nest and faced the world—all conducted with his internal walls up. And the way he and Ronan Ash spent over an hour talking at our last gathering.
Is this what they were cooking up? A team takeover?
The brilliant bastard.
“I’m sorry I had to keep it a secret, angel. There was an NDA clause in place for the acquisition process. Until we all signed the paperwork, I wasn’t at liberty to say anything to anyone, not even our pack. I never thought I’d be waiting so long; we were supposed to sign last week, but with the heat, things got pushed a bit.”
Half of his words don’t even hit me. Remi’s thought keeps twirling through my head. He bought the team.
For her, to keep her alphas together.
For Damon, to give him time to figure himself out.
For me, so I can keep playing now that I can finally enjoy it again.
For us. Our pack, our home, our family.
We all start to collapse around him, moving for a group huddle (okay, okay, a group hug)—but there’s a crash behind me. I whirl, immediately putting myself between Remi and the source of the noise.
