Bo
I have to stay in my seat for a minute until I can get my cockstand under control. Then I head out the back doors for some air. I pull out my phone and check for any messages from Winslow.
“Hey, isn’t that guy one of the Wolf Ridge ballers?”
Shit.
It’s a football player from Cave Hills.
What are the chances of me being recognized here? We’re in helmets and matching jerseys. I shouldn’t be that easy to pick out.
“Yeah, it is.”
“He came with Sloane McCormick,” another helpful teammate offers.
“No shit.”
The team strolls over, their alpha—because humans have alphas, too, even if they don’t understand pack dynamics—in the lead.
I sense the aggression in them right away, and my wolf snarls, but I hold him down.
This is one of those instances Coach lectures us over and over about.
