Page 9 of Puck Your Bunny

"We need Vayda's number, Henry." I keep my voice low and flat. "Now."

Henry takes a slow, careful step back. His heel hits the wooden bench behind him.

He looks at me, then at Wally, then at Simon. The poor guy looks like he just skated blind into a three-on-one defensive trap.

"I can't do that, man." Henry shakes his head. He drops his gaze to the floor, avoiding my eyes. "If I give you her number, Kristy will kill me. I fear her way more than I fear the three of you. I'm serious. She will bury my body in the woods and leave our mother in the dark."

A harsh, frustrated breath escapes my lungs. My fingers twitch with the urge to grab his collar and shake the information out of him. It's a rough, aggressive instinct usually saved for the penalty box.

Getting that damn phone number is the only priority. Calling Vayda and hearing her voice will confirm she is okay. We need to talk to her and sort this out. That silver bite mark on her skin proves she has a pack, yet her scent called out to us anyway. Being stuck in some bond of convenience makes this entire situation messy. Knowing the facts helps us figure out how to work around it.

Simon scoffs from my left side. He rolls his eyes, dismissing Henry's panic. "We aren't going to stalk her." He runs a hand through his messy copper hair, pushing the hood of his sweatshirt back. "We just need to talk to her. You saw what happened last night. You have to know this is serious."

Henry shifts his weight from foot to foot. Conflict writes itself across his face. He knows the rarity of a true scent match, but he stays fiercely loyal to his sister.

"I know it's serious." Henry crosses his arms, getting defensive. "But Vayda is family to us. Kristy protects her like it. Handing out her cell phone number to three Alphas she just ranaway from guarantees I'll end up dead." He shakes his head and sets his jaw. He holds his ground.

"Talk to Kristy first." Henry offers the compromise with a shrug. "If she gives the okay, then maybe."

Dropping his duffel bag on the floor, he pulls his phone out of his sweatpants pocket. He unlocks the screen and scrolls through his contacts. Wally grabs his own phone to take it down. Henry rattles off the digits. He looks up at Wally and offers a grim, apologetic smile. "Good luck. You're going to need it." He brushes past us to get ready for practice.

Wally jumps right into action.

He hits the call button and puts the phone on speaker, holding it out in the center of our small circle. The three of us stare at the glowing screen like it's a bomb about to go off.

Every ring twists the anxiety sitting in the pit of my stomach. My leg bounces with restless energy. Getting sent to voicemail means losing my mind. Finding out where Kristy lives and knocking on her front door myself will be the next step.

The ringing stops.

"This is Kristy." Her tone clips through the speaker, crisp, professional, and annoyed. She sounds like a woman dealing with a telemarketer early in the morning.

Wally clears his throat. He squares his shoulders, stepping right back into the role of the pack leader.

"Kristy, it's Wally Nelson. Center for the Reapers. We met last night." He keeps his voice smooth and commanding, burying the desperate edge clawing at the inside of his chest. "I'm here with Kel and Simon. We want to talk about Vayda."

The line goes dead silent.

The call timer keeps ticking on the screen, proving she is still there. The silence stretches out, thick and uncomfortable. Leaning a little closer to the phone, my heart pounds a steady, furious rhythm against my ribs.

"Vayda's life is complicated." Kristy skips the small talk and gets right to the point. "Beyond complicated. She needs to see what the universe is offering her with the three of you, but she's stubborn. She spent years convincing herself she deserves nothing good."

My stomach drops. The words hit like a blow to the chest.

She deserves nothing good.

What kind of trauma makes an Omega believe something like that? Packs treasure their Omegas. They sit at the center of everything, protected and adored by their Alphas. Picturing our perfect scent match sitting somewhere in the city, punishing herself and pushing us away out of some twisted sense of guilt, makes me want to put my fist through a concrete wall.

Clenching my hands into fists, I step forward to crowd the phone. Wally holds up a hand to stall my demands for answers.

"We just want a chance to talk to her." Wally strips the aggression from his tone while holding his ground. "We promise to let her set the pace. Just a phone call."

Getting Vayda on the line to hear her voice is the only way to know she's okay. We need to figure out why our scent match terrified her so much. Wrapping her in my scent to prove those lies wrong sounds perfect, but treading carefully is the only option. Pushing her will guarantee she’ll bolt again. We keep our desperation hidden from Kristy to secure the connection.

Kristy lets out a long sigh. "I'll try to get her to agree to a call." She sounds reluctant, treating the request like playing with fire. "But I make no promises. She has a lot on her plate right now. Expect an uphill battle."

The line clicks. She hangs up and ends the call.

The locker room falls back into a suffocating silence.