The flash of panic in her eyes is gone so quickly I almost doubt I saw it. Almost.
"Why would that matter to me?" Her voice stays steady.
"You tell me."
She studies me, calculating. "Your file says you're the team strategist. The one who sees patterns others miss."
"My file?"
"I do my research." She steps closer, a deliberate move that surprises me. "So what pattern do you think you see, Eli?"
The use of my first name feels surprisingly intimate. I'm not used to being challenged so directly by anyone except Jackson and occasionally Gray.
"I see someone hiding something," I answer honestly. "The question is whether it matters to the team."
She holds my gaze. "Does it? Matter to the team?"
"Depends what it is."
A moment of silence stretches between us. For a second, I think she might actually tell me. Then her walls slam back into place.
"Get some sleep, Stone. Early practice tomorrow."
She moves toward the door, but pauses beside me. From this close, closer than she's ever willingly stood to any Alpha on the team, I catch something beneath the neutralizing agent. Something sweet and warm that makes my pulse jump in a way I wasn't expecting.
My reaction must show on my face because her eyes widen slightly before she steps back.
"Goodnight," she says quickly, and is gone before I can respond.
I stand there for several minutes after she leaves, processing what just happened. That momentary scent. My unexpected response to it. The tangle of intrigue and attraction I haven't felt for a woman since... actually, I'm not sure I've ever felt it.
My experiences with women have been limited and unmemorable. A few awkward encounters in high school, enough to know I wasn't uninterested, just particular. In college, it's been easier to connect with other Alphas. Simpler. No designation complications, no scent triggers, no biological imperatives complicating things.
Just straightforward physical release. Like with Jackson.
I head back upstairs, thoughts churning. In my room, traces of Jackson still linger, his scent on my sheets, a stray sock under the bed. Familiar. Safe, in its way.
But now there's something else. Something new. The mystery of Reese Callahan and that brief, unexpected scent that shouldn't intrigue me but does.
I strip the bed, gathering sheets for tomorrow's laundry run. As I stuff them into the hamper, I hear the back door open and close. Jackson, returning from his run. His footsteps pause at the foot of the stairs, then continue up. They slow as he passes my door but don't stop.
I consider going to him. The conversation isn't finished. But pushing Jackson Reed when he's not ready only makes him retreat further.
Instead, I pull out my tablet and open the team records. If I'm going to figure out what Reese Callahan is hiding, I need more data.
Her Westlake records are impressive but incomplete. Captain of the women's team for a year and a half. Multiple wins at regional competitions. Then a sudden departure mid-season, with no explanation given in the public records.
I dig deeper, accessing athletic databases through my student account. Transfer applications. Medical clearances. The standard forms all athletes file when changing schools.
There. A small discrepancy in her medical files. Her designation is listed as Beta, but there's a notation about "ongoing prescription management" that's typically only included for Alphas with aggression issues or Omegas on suppressants.
And a sealed record from Westlake that would require an administrative override to access.
I lean back, mind racing. The pieces fit together too neatly to ignore. The careful distance. The neutralizing agents. The sealed records. The sudden transfer.
Reese Callahan is an Omega hiding as a Beta.
The question is why? And what happens when the team finds out?
