Page 32 of False Catch

I climb the deck stairs slowly, watching him track every movement. When I pass him to go through the door, he inhales sharply.

"You smell like him."

"We were studying."

"For three hours."

"Is there a time limit I'm not aware of?"

His jaw works like he's physically chewing back words. "Gray wants to see you. He's in his room."

"I should check in with everyone first—"

"That wasn't a request."

The authority in his voice triggers something instinctive - not quite Alpha command, but close enough that my feet are moving before I decide to comply.

Gray's door is cracked open. I knock anyway.

"Come in."

He's standing by his window, still in practice clothes like he hasn't moved since this morning. The tension radiating off him fills the room like smoke.

"How was your study date?"

"It wasn't a date."

"Three hours, Reese."

"We lost track of time. It happens when you're actually working."

He turns to face me, and his eyes are all storm. "Did he tell you about Sophia?"

"Yeah."

"What did he say?"

"That you both liked her, she chose him, and it ended your friendship."

Gray laughs, but there's no humor in it. "Is that what he said?"

"What really happened?"

"Doesn't matter." He moves closer, and I catch his scent - pine and rage and something desperate. "What matters is that Quinton Whitmore takes things. Especially things that matter to other people."

"I'm not a thing to be taken."

"No," he agrees. "You're not. But he doesn't know that. He sees you with us, sees how we are around you, and he thinks you're something he can use to hurt me."

"Not everything is about you, Gray."

"This is." His certainty is absolute. "Whatever he's doing, whoever sent him, it's about destroying what we have."

"What we have is a team on probation that can barely row together."

"That's not what I mean and you know it."

The air between us crackles. I should leave. Should maintain distance. Should be professional.