Page 52 of Puck Your Charity

Victor freezes. He stares down at the books. A dark, mortified flush creeps up his neck. He drops to one knee and shoves the paperbacks deep into the canvas bag. He yanks the zipper shut with a violent tug. He slings the strap over his shoulder and turns his face away, refusing to meet my eyes.

The cold, cruel, untouchable Alpha spends his free time reading self-help books about childhood trauma and anger management.

The revelation catches me off guard. It puts a devastating crack in the foundation of my hatred. I spent weeks viewing Victor as a toxic, arrogant tyrant who cared only about control. Seeing the concrete proof of his silent struggle rewrites the narrative.

Finn sets me down on the floor. "Ready to go home?"

"Yeah." I nod, keeping my eyes on Victor's back as he walks toward the exit. "Let's go home."

My anger wavers. A dark, twisted curiosity takes root in my chest. I want to know what hides behind Victor's icy mask. I want to know what broke him.

Chapter 16

Steam rises off the surface of the massive stone hot tub, curling into the cool night air of the courtyard. The private pool sits tucked away in the secluded courtyard behind the east wing, shielded by high brick walls and towering pine trees. Colored underwater lights cast a soft blue glow across the bubbling water.

I set two crystal wine glasses on the stone ledge next to an opened bottle of chilled white wine and a wooden board loaded with artisan cheeses, cured meats, and crackers.

Tonight is my date night with Olive.

We established a rotation earlier in the week. The four of us sat around the kitchen island and drew straws to figure out who getsto take her out first to bond, talk, and let her spend some one-on-one time with each of us without feeling overwhelmed by a pack of Alphas. I drew the short straw, so I get the opening slot.

Victor didn't even put his name in the hat. He tookthe very last spot in the rotation, hanging back in the shadows while the rest of us try to smooth things over. But the guys and I notice a shift in him lately. He stays calmer, speaks in a level tone, and spends his free time tearing through self-help books on anger management and trauma. We haven't pressed him about it, but we all assume he’s doing it for Olive. He wants to prove he can fix his toxic edges and be better for her.

I run a hand through my dark curls, checking my reflection in the glass sliding doors. I wear dark red swim trunks, putting my golden skin and athletic build on display.

I earned my reputation as the playboy of the pack. I know how to flash a smile, work a room, and charm anyone into a false sense of security. It serves as a useful shield. People see the pretty face and the designer suit, and they underestimate the razor-sharp mind hiding underneath.

Olive just sat through her first professional hockey game yesterday. She watched us bleed and sweat on the ice, and her hormones are still humming from the intense display of dominance.

She's smart, practical, and sees right through superficial charm and polite small talk. Winning her over requires more than a winning smile and a glass of wine. I need to prove I am a capable, ruthless protector when it comes to our pack, not just an athlete with a trust fund.

The heavy glass door slides open.

Olive steps out onto the stone patio. She wears an oversized black t-shirt that hangs down to her mid-thigh. Her dark bob frames her face in messy, soft angles. Her warm brown eyes lock onto mine with a cautious, lingering hesitation.

The sweet scent of warm apple pie floats off her skin, cutting through the steam rising from the water.

"You look relaxed." I keep my voice smooth and easy, leaning my back against the stone edge of the tub.

Olive walks over, her bare feet slapping against the cold patio stone. She stops a few feet away, crossing her arms over her chest. "I am. For now."

"Come on in." I gesture to the steaming water and the food board. "The temperature is set to perfection, and I brought snacks."

She hesitates for a second, then pulls the t-shirt over her head. She drops the dark fabric onto a lounge chair, standing in a simple black bikini. Her petite curves and smooth tan skin look breathtaking under the blue lights. She steps down the stone stairs and slips into the bubbling water.

The heat of the tub envelops her. She lets out a long, shuddering sigh, resting her head against the back ledge.

I slide closer through the water, stopping a respectful distance away. I rest my forearms on the stone rim, keeping my hands to myself.

"How are you holding up?" I ask, keeping my tone gentle. "I know the transition from your apartment to this mansion has been a total mind fuck."

"It's a lot." Olive stares out across the water, her jaw tight. “I’m working through the emotions. I lost my career, my home, and my sense of control in less than a week. I was so mad at first, but I know I can’t change what I am. So I’m learning acceptance now. Trying to at least."

"You have every right to be furious." I keep my expression neutral. "We crashed into your life like a freight train. We didn't give you a choice."

She turns her head. Her brown eyes search my face, looking for a trap. "You're taking that awfully well. Usually, Alphas try to justify steamrolling everyone."

"I'm not like Victor." I offer a wry smile. "I know when to push and when to back off. My charm gets me out of most jams, but I know it falls flat with you."