SLOANE
I was on the phone with my father before Bryce had even closed the guest room door.
My hands were still shaking. From adrenaline, from rage, from the memory of that Alpha's hand on Bryce's arm. The way Bryce had looked at me—not with fear, but with something like trust. Like he'd actually expected me to protect him.
And I had. Would again. Would tear apart anyone who touched him.
I paced my office, phone pressed to my ear hard enough to hurt. Three steps to the window. Three steps back. Over and over.
"Three rogue Alphas threatened Bryce on campus," I said the second my father picked up. The words tumbled out fast, urgent.
"The Omega you're obsessed with?" My father's voice was dry. Disapproving in that way that made my jaw clench.
"He's my mate." The word came out sharp. Defensive. "Not an obsession."
Silence on the other end. Long enough that I stopped pacing mid-step.
