Chapter 11

Amaya's pov 

The diner they take me to is packed with hockey players and their friends, all riding the high of the win. We squeeze into a large corner booth—Alvaro immediately claiming the spot next to me, Luciano on my other side, and Javier across from us. I'm wedged between two walls of muscle, and my wolf is purring contentedly about it.

I try not to think about what that means.

"Best game of the season," says Marcus, their team captain, from the neighboring booth. He raises his soda. "To Luciano's monster of a goal."

The table erupts in cheers and stick-tapping against the vinyl seats. Luciano just shakes his head, but I can feel his satisfaction through the bond.

"It was a team effort," he says, ever the diplomat.

"Bullshit," Alvaro laughs. "You snapped that puck so hard the goalie probably saw his life flash before his eyes."

"The pass was perfect," Luciano counters, nodding at Alvaro. "I just had to redirect it."

"Look at them being humble," Javier says to me, his eyes warm with amusement. "It's adorable."

A waitress appears—older woman, warm smile, probably used to the chaos of post-game celebrations. "What can I get you kids?"

Orders fly around the table. Burgers, fries, milkshakes, chicken sandwiches. The guys are ordering enough food for a small army, which I guess makes sense after burning that many calories on the ice.

When she gets to me, I hesitate. "Just... fries and a water?"

"That's not enough," Alvaro says immediately. "You barely ate breakfast."

"I'm not that hungry—"

"Amaya." Luciano's hand finds mine under the table, squeezing gently. "You need to eat more than fries. Please."

The please gets me. Also the genuine concern in his voice.

"Fine. Grilled cheese too."

"And a chocolate milkshake," Alvaro adds to the waitress. "She needs the calories."

"I can order for myself," I protest, but he just grins at me.

"Yeah, but you won't. So I'm doing it."

The waitress looks amused as she writes it all down. "You boys take good care of her," she says, like it's obvious what we are to each other.

Heat creeps up my neck as she walks away.

"Everyone's staring," I mutter.

"Let them," Javier says easily. "You're here with us. They should stare."

"That's not—I don't like attention."

"Too bad." Alvaro's arm drapes across the back of the booth behind me, not quite touching but close enough that I can feel the heat of him. "You're with three of the hockey team's top players. Attention comes with the territory."

"I didn't agree to be with anyone," I point out, but it sounds weak even to my ears.

Because I'm here, aren't I? Sitting in their booth, wearing Alvaro's hoodie that he insisted I take when I said I was cold in the arena, letting them order extra food for me. Not fighting when Luciano holds my hand or when Alvaro keeps finding excuses to touch me.

"Sure you didn't," Alvaro says, but he's smiling.

Conversation flows around us—talk of the game, upcoming matches, classes, weekend plans. I mostly listen, content to observe. These are their people, their world, and I'm just visiting.

Except that's not quite true anymore, is it?

"Amaya's good luck," Marcus announces suddenly, loud enough that nearby tables can hear. "First game she comes to, we crush it. She needs to come to every game."

Several players voice their agreement. I sink lower in my seat.

"Leave her alone," Javier says, but he's grinning. "Don't scare her off."

"I'm just saying—we should make her the team mascot or something."

"She's not a mascot," Luciano says, and there's an edge to his voice now. Protective. "She's our mate. Show some respect."

The temperature at the table drops slightly. Marcus raises his hands in surrender.

"No disrespect meant, man. Just excited about the win."

Luciano nods, accepting the apology, but his hand tightens on mine. I lean into his shoulder slightly—a small gesture of thanks—and feel him relax.

The food arrives in waves. Mountains of it. I stare at my grilled cheese and fries and massive milkshake, already feeling full just looking at it.

"Eat," Alvaro commands softly, close to my ear. "Don't make me feed you."

"You wouldn't dare."

The look he gives me says he absolutely would dare.

I pick up half the sandwich and take a bite. It's actually good—crispy bread, melted cheese, butter. My stomach reminds me that I haven't eaten much today, and suddenly I'm hungrier than I thought.

Alvaro looks smug.

Around us, the diner is loud with celebration. Players rehashing key moments, arguing about plays, planning for next week. It's chaotic and energetic and so different from my usual quiet evenings alone.

I'm surprised to find I don't hate it.

"You're smiling," Javier observes from across the table.

"Am not."

"You are. Small one, corner of your mouth. I'm counting it as progress."

"Progress toward what?"

"Toward you admitting you like being here with us."

I roll my eyes, but I don't deny it. Can't deny it, really, not when the bond is humming contentedly and my wolf is basically doing backflips at being surrounded by our mates and their pack.

Halfway through the meal, I excuse myself to use the bathroom. The noise level drops as I navigate away from the hockey player section of the diner, and I take a breath in the relative quiet of the hallway.

When I emerge from the bathroom, there's someone waiting.

Tyler Morrison. The junior alpha who tried to approach me in the parking lot when I was sick. The one my mates warned off.

"Amaya," he says, positioning himself between me and the dining area. "Finally got you alone."

Warning bells go off immediately. "Move, Tyler."

"Just want to talk." He steps closer, and I smell alcohol under the cologne. He's been drinking. "Don't get what you see in those three. You could do better."

"I'm not interested in your opinion."

"Come on." His hand reaches for my arm. "Give me a chance. I could—"

He doesn't finish the sentence because suddenly Alvaro is there, moving faster than should be possible. He shoves Tyler against the wall hard enough to rattle the decorative plates hanging there.

"Don't. Touch. Her." Each word is punctuated with pressure, Alvaro's forearm across Tyler's chest.

"Jesus, man, I was just—"

"You were just leaving," Javier says, appearing from the other direction with Luciano right behind him. "Right now."

Tyler looks between the three of them and seems to realize how badly he's miscalculated. "Fine. Whatever. She's not worth it anyway."

Alvaro's fist clenches, and I see his control slipping. The gold is bleeding into his eyes, his wolf rising to the surface. He's going to hit Tyler, and that'll cause a scene, and—

"Alvaro," I say quietly, touching his shoulder. "He's not worth it either."

His head whips toward me, and for a second I think the wolf is too far gone. But then his eyes find mine, and I see him fight for control. See him choose me over violence.

He releases Tyler with a shove. "Get out of here before I change my mind."

Tyler scrambles away, nearly running for the exit.

The hallway falls silent except for our breathing. Alvaro's still tense, practically vibrating with barely suppressed aggression. Luciano and Javier are flanking us, alert for any other threats.

"I'm okay," I tell them. "He didn't hurt me."

"He touched you," Alvaro growls. "Tried to—"

"But he didn't." I step closer to him, ignoring how my hands are shaking slightly. "You stopped him. All of you. I'm safe."

"If we'd been two seconds later—" Javier starts.

"But you weren't. You were right there." I look at each of them. "How did you even know?"

"Felt your distress through the bond," Luciano explains. "We all felt it at the same time."

Oh. Oh.

The bond warned them I was in trouble. Called them to me like an alarm. That's why they moved so fast, why they appeared from different directions to cut off any escape route Tyler might have had.

The bond protected me.

They protected me.

"Thank you," I whisper.

Alvaro's still breathing hard, coming down from the adrenaline and rage. I do something I've never done before—I reach up and cup his face with both hands, making him look at me instead of the direction Tyler disappeared.

"I'm okay," I repeat. "You kept me safe. All of you did."

Some of the tension drains from his shoulders. He leans into my touch, eyes closing briefly.

"We should go," Javier says quietly. "Before someone comes looking."

We head back to the booth, but the easy atmosphere from before is gone. My mates are on high alert now, watchful. Luciano's sitting even closer than before, eliminating any gap between us. Alvaro's arm is fully around my shoulders now, no pretense of casual. Javier keeps scanning the diner like he's checking for threats.

I should feel smothered. Should want space.

Instead, I feel safe.

"We can leave if you want," Luciano murmurs in my ear. "Don't have to stay."

"I'm fine." And I mean it. "Let's finish eating."

But something's shifted. The other players notice the change in atmosphere, the protective circle my mates have formed around me. Nobody comments, but the message is clear.

I'm theirs. Under their protection. Off-limits.

And for the first time since this whole mate bond started, I'm not fighting it.

When we finally leave the diner an hour later, full and tired, Alvaro keeps me tucked against his side as we walk to the parking lot. Luciano and Javier walk close enough that anyone approaching would have to go through them first.

"I can walk to my car alone," I say. "It's right there."

"Humor us," Javier replies.

They walk me all the way to my driver's door. I unlock it but don't get in yet, turning to face them.

"Thank you," I say again. "For tonight. For the game and dinner and... everything."

"Come to our next game," Alvaro says. It's not quite a question.

I should say no. Should maintain some independence. Should not become the girl who revolves around her mates' schedules.

"Okay," I hear myself say instead.

The smiles that break across their faces make my stomach flip.

"Get home safe," Luciano says. "Text when you get there."

"I'm not texting you—"

"Yes, you are," all three of them say in unison.

I huff out a laugh and climb into my car. As I pull away, I watch them in my rearview mirror—three figures standing in the parking lot, watching until I'm out of sight.

My phone buzzes before I'm even off campus.

Alvaro: Already miss you.

Javier: Drive safe.

Luciano: Don't forget to text.

I wait until I'm at a red light to respond.

Me: You guys are ridiculous.

Alvaro: You love it.

The scary thing is, I'm starting to think I do.