Tessa POV

My first official day as the Grey Ridge Wolves’ student trainer starts with mud on my boots, sweat in the air, and the very real urge to fake an injury and go home.

I’m kneeling beside the cooler, sorting out ice packs, when a shadow falls over me. Not just any shadow.

The tall, smug, golden-boy kind. Jax Maddox.

“You missed a spot,” he says, nodding at the tape she just finished wrapping around some linebacker’s knee.

“I didn’t ask for a commentary,” I reply, without looking up.

“Guess it’s a good thing I’m giving it for free.” He mocks

I finish the tape with an extra-tight tug that makes the linebacker wince. “Let me know when you’ve got an actual injury. I’ll bring glitter and a sympathy card.” I say in a mocking tone

A few of the players chuckle under their breath. Even the guys who were skeptical about me yesterday are warming up to me. I’ve always been blunt. Efficient. Not afraid to throw sarcasm like it’s a dodgeball.

Jax, though, is immune to my charm or maybe just determined to stay on my nerves.

“Coach said we’re doing a full-contact scrimmage today,” he says as I wipe my hands on a towel.

“Cool. Want me to arrange for a stretcher in advance?”

“Are you volunteering to carry me?” He lifts a brow at me

“In your dreams.” I scoff

He leans in just slightly, a little too close. “Funny. I did dream about you last night.”

I blink. Heat flashes up my cheeks. Nope. Not happening.

Before I can respond with something appropriately scathing, Coach Cruz’s whistle pierces the air, calling everyone into position.

Practice begins.

It doesn’t take long for me to realize just how strange this team really is.

They’re fast. Too fast. And strong in a way that doesn’t quite make sense. One guy takes a brutal hit and just... shrugs it off. Another leap higher than a normal person should. He grabs the ball mid-air and flips without a stumble, like it’s nothing.

“What the hell,” I mutter under my breath as I jot down a note on my clipboard.

Then there’s Jax. Watching him on the field is like watching a storm in motion. Controlled chaos. His throws are perfect. His body moves like it was built for this. Alpha energy leaks from every step.

I hate how my eyes keep tracking him. How I notice the curve of his jaw, the way his damp hair sticks to his forehead, the low grunt when he throws himself into a tackle.

It’s distracting. And I am not here to get distracted.

When a running back limps off the field with a twisted ankle, Tessa rushes forward to check on him. I just finish wrapping it over, when Jax jogs over.

“Think he’s faking it?” he mutters.

I scowl. “You think everyone’s faking it.”

“Because they usually are. The guys, they test their limits. Push lines. Especially when there’s a new trainer.” he shrugs his eyes on everything but me

I stare at him. “You mean, a girl.” I say pointedly

He doesn’t deny it. Just looks at me with that frustrating, unreadable expression. “You’re different.”

I fold my arms. “How so?”

“You don’t flinch. Most people do.” He says smoothly, almost like a praise.

That throws me off. I’m not sure if it’s a compliment or a warning. Maybe both.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” I reply.

He steps closer, voice low. “It’s not. But it means they’ll test you harder.”

“They?” I lift a brow at him

“The pack.” He adds

I freeze. “The what?”

He blinks. A beat too long. Then shrugs like she misheard him. “The... team. I said team.”

“No, you didn’t.” I scoff

“Yes, I did.” He turns his eyes away.

I stare back at him. He stares right back, smug but slightly twitchy. Then he turns and jogs away before I can dig deeper.

Pack. He definitely said pack.

After practice, I linger in the supply shed, organizing ice packs and rolling my eyes so hard it’s a miracle they stay in my head.

Jax Maddox is infuriating. Gorgeous, sure, but infuriating. One minute he’s flirting. The next he’s acting like she’s trespassing on sacred ground. And now he’s throwing weird words around like “pack”?

Something’s off. More than off.

And I am going to find out what.

Because if I’m going to survive Grey Ridge and Jax I need to know exactly what I’m dealing with.

And judging by the way my skin prickled when he got too close, or the way his eyes seemed to flash gold for just a second under the sun...

I suspect it’s something wild.

Something dangerous.

Something definitely not human.

Tessa POV

My day starts with a granola bar, a broken alarm, and the grim realization that my gym shoes still smell like boy sweat and bad decisions.

By the time I get to school, the halls are buzzing, not with gossip, but with tension.

Whispers trail me as I walks past rows of students.

"That's her..."

"...Coach's niece..."

"...Saw her with Maddox..."

I grit my teeth and shove my earbuds deeper into my ears. I didn’t come here to be the lead in some backwoods high school soap opera. But apparently being the only girl on the sidelines of the Wolves’ football team and maybe, sort of, kind of exchanging verbal uppercuts with the team captain is enough to light up the rumor mill.

Still, it’s not the stares that rattle Me.

It’s ”him”

Jax Maddox is leaning against my locker.

Again.

Like he’s got nowhere else to be. Like he planned it.

“Morning, Trouble,” he says, arms crossed over his annoyingly sculpted chest. His grin is lazy, like he has a secret. Probably because he does.

I narrow my eyes. “What do you want?”

“Nothing,” he says, then adds, “Well…maybe a little entertainment.”

I shove past him to open my locker. “Don’t you have plays to memorize? Or touchdowns to obsess over?”

“Not today.” he replies

“Why not?” I lift a brow

He leans in, voice low. “Because Coach benched me.”

She turns sharply. “Wait, what?”

“Benched. Off the field. No practice. No games.” He narrows his eyes

“Why?” I take a step back

“Maybe because someone’s uncle thinks I’m a bad influence.” He shrugs with no care in the world

I slam my locker shut and stare at him. “You. are. a bad influence.” I roll my eyes

“Exactly,” he says with a wink. “So now I’ve got time on my hands. Thought I’d spend it bothering you.”

My jaw clenches. “Go bother someone else.”

He tilts his head. “Not as fun.”

Before I can fire back, someone clears their throat behind us.

I turn to see a girl with honey-blonde curls and cheerleader-level posture. Her eyes flicker between I and Jax, sharp as glass.

“You’re the new trainer,” the girl says. It’s not a question.

“Wow,” I reply. “Is my badge showing?”

The girl doesn’t laugh. “I’m Brynn. Captain of the cheer squad. Jax’s ex” she told her eyes, her tiny skirt making her introduction useless

I blink. “Cool story.”

Brynn’s gaze turns ice-cold. “Just thought I’d say hi before things got... complicated.”

I smile sweetly. “Thanks. But I’m pretty fluent in complicated.”

Brynn walks off, hips swinging like a warning sign.

Jax sighs. “She’s not usually that subtle.”

“She was subtle?” I lift a brow at him

He laughs.

Later that afternoon, I’m in the equipment room, inventory sheet in hand, when Jax shows up again shirtless, like it’s a personal brand.

Why is he always shirtless!!

“You’re following me,” I mutter without looking up.

“Technically, I got here first.”

She points at the door. “Go be benched somewhere else.”

“I’m bored.” He moves closer

“I don’t care.” I shrug

“You’re fun when you’re mad.” He chuckles

“Then you must be really entertained.” I snap back at him

He grins and grabs a roll of pre-wrap off the shelf, tossing it between his hands. “You know... I wasn’t lying yesterday.”

“About what?” I narrow my eyes at him

“The pack.”

I stop mid-count. “I knew you said that.”

Jax leans against the table, tone serious for once. “You’re not wrong to be suspicious.”

I cross my arms. “So go ahead. Tell me I’m crazy.”

“I won’t. Because you’re not.”

My heart skips. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying... you should probably stay away from me.”

I snort. “You’ve said that before.”

“This time I mean it.”

He looks almost regretful. Almost... scared? Which makes no sense. Jax doesn’t get scared. He causes it.

Before I can ask more, Coach Cruz’s voice shouts from the hallway, calling me to the field.

Jax moves aside, quiet now. But as I walk past him, I swear I hear him whisper:

“You don’t know what I am.”

And the worst part?

I think I wants to.