Page 5 of Final Drive

My hands curl under the table. “Watch your mouth.”

“I’m asking what any reasonable person would ask.” He spreads his hands. “A woman arrives, hides her designation, gets herself onto an all-male team, and inside a season she has half of them fighting over her. You don’t find that suspicious?”

“She didn’t manipulate anyone.”

“Didn’t she.” He pulls out his phone, scrolls to something, and sets it on the table between us. “I’ve been doing some research. Your Miss Callahan has a history.”

The screen shows a photo I’ve never seen. Reese, younger, hair longer, wrapped around an Alpha in a Westlake rowing jacket. They’re kissing like nobody else exists.

“Davis Carrington. Stroke seat for Westlake’s men’s team,” my father says. “They dated for several months before she transferred, and by all accounts it ended badly.”

“That’s her past. It has nothing to do with us.”

“Doesn’t it.” He swipes to another photo. Reese at some society event, posed between her parents, her smile tight and her eyes gone somewhere else. “The Callahans are old money. Good family, despite the daughter’s unfortunate designation. They’ve been cooperative about sharing their concerns.”

“You’ve been talking to her parents.”

“Margot and I have mutual acquaintances. She reached out after Saturday, very worried about her daughter falling prey to predatory influences.” He savors the phrase on the way out.

“Reese is a legal adult. Her parents can’t control her.”

“No, but they can cut off her funding, which I understand they’re considering.” He retrieves the phone and tucks it back into his jacket. “A young woman with no resources, dependent on the goodwill of the men she’s attached herself to. That’s a vulnerable position, Gray.”

“She isn’t dependent on anyone.”

“Not yet. But how long before she works out what she’s given up? Her family. Her future. Her name.” He shakes his head, and he’s enjoying himself. “Girls like her run eventually. When the reality arrives and the fairy tale wears through, they disappear. It’s what Sophia did.”

I put my water down before my hand can betray me.

“Don’t.”

“I’m trying to protect you from making the same mistake twice.” His voice softens into something that would pass for concern in a room with worse lighting. “You were devastated when Sophia left. I watched you come apart over a woman who chose comfort over conviction, and now you’re arranging the identical heartbreak for yourself.”

“Reese isn’t Sophia.”

“Isn’t she. A pretty Omega who made you feel chosen, who let you believe you had something real, and then vanished the moment it cost her anything.” He leans forward. “Sophia lasted three months before she ran to Quinton Whitmore. And here he is again, circling your new Omega. How long do you give it this time?”

“It won’t work.”

“We’ll see.” He smiles, and it’s the one I’ve watched him use in boardrooms before he ends somebody’s career. “I have friends at the athletic board. On the university council. In the media.” He counts them off. “One phone call and there’s a feature story about the scandal at Sable Ridge. The Omega who seduced an entire team. The coaches who looked the other way. The administration that allowed it.”

“That’s not what happened.”

“It doesn’t matter what happened. It matters what the story says.” He takes a measured sip of water. “How do you think Miss Callahan handles being the center of a media circus? Her face on every sports blog, her designation dissected by commentators, her family’s shame made public. Do you think she stays and fights, or do you think she does what Sophia did?”

The worst part is that I don’t know.

I want to believe she’s stronger than Sophia was, more committed, more willing to stand in weather. But I’ve seen the way she flinches when her mother calls, and I’ve watched the armor come up every time anybody mentions her family. She’s already carrying more than she’ll admit to, and I don’t know where the limit is.

“What do you want?”

“I want you to come home.” He’s almost gentle now. “End this before it costs you your future. The team will survive. They’ll find another stroke and another captain. But you only get one name, Gray. One family.”

“The pack is my family.”

“The pack is a biological accident. A hormonal response to an Omega in heat.” He waves it off. “It isn’t real, son. It’s chemistry wearing the costume of connection, and in a year or two the bond fades and you’re left holding a ruined reputation.”

“You’re wrong.”