Page 44 of Final Drive

I take the phone out of Cameron’s hand.

“Reese—”

“I need to see it.”

The photo is everywhere.

Three sites becomes five while I’m looking. Somebody has already pulled a still of my face and cropped everybody else out. The comments are worse.

Slut. Whore. Pack bunny.

The same words my mother used, multiplied by people who have never met me and never will.

Jackson’s hand lands on my shoulder. “Don’t read those.”

“Too late.” My voice sounds wrong to my own ears. “It’s out. Everyone’s going to see it.”

“We’ll handle it.” Gray’s jaw is locked. “Tyler. Legal options.”

“We knew Kinsley had footage,” Tyler says. “She and Andrea both. We should’ve dealt with the possibility sooner.”

“Doesn’t matter now,” Gray says. “We focus on what we can still control.”

“This is Harrison,” Beckett says.

“Maybe,” Cameron says. “Kinsley shot the original.”

“Does it matter?” I hand the phone back before I can read another comment. My hands are shaking. “It’s done either way.”

The bonds are shouting at me, three threads of protective fury with nowhere to go. There’s nobody here to hit. No shell to steer. No call I can make that fixes pixels already loose on the internet.

“The filing,” Eli says. “We accelerate it.”

I look at him.

“If we’re legally recognized before the full story runs, the university has less room to act like this is misconduct instead of a lawful pack relationship.”

“We only have three claims.”

“Then we get more claims,” Bo says.

I stare at him, and his certainty falters.

“That came out wrong.”

“Did it?”

“Yeah.” He steps closer, but not close enough to crowd me. “The paperwork can go to hell for a minute. I’ve wanted to claim you since before there was paperwork. Before Harrison. Before any of this.”

The room goes quiet again.

Bo holds my eyes. “I kept waiting because I thought waiting was the decent thing to do. If you’re asking whether I want you, Reese, the answer is yes. If you’re asking whether I’d bite you tonight because Tyler needs another signature, the answer is no.”

My throat tightens. “Bo⁠—”

“I’m serious.”

“I know.”