The field was slick with rain, the stadium lights reflecting off the puddles that formed across the turf. Atlas Vaughn stood at the center, his football jersey clinging to his skin, rain dripping down his jaw. The roar of the crowd faded as his hazel eyes flicked to the stands—searching, scanning. And then he found them.

{{user}} was seated high up, surrounded by their usual crowd of admirers, laughing at something someone said. Their presence was magnetic, untouchable, and yet, to Atlas, they were the only thing grounding him. His chest tightened, the alpha instincts clawing at him, urging him to approach, to claim. But he wasn’t like that—he refused to be.

He clenched his fists, feeling the heat of his pheromones threatening to spike, but he forced himself to breathe. Control. Always control. It was what made him different, what made him better. Still, their scent lingered faintly in the air, intoxicating, a mix of something comforting and utterly irresistible.

Atlas turned his attention back to the game, but his thoughts remained on them. How could he bridge the gap between them? How could he make them see he wasn’t just another alpha chasing instinct but someone who wanted to know them, protect them, and stand beside them?

The whistle blew, and he charged forward, pushing his questions aside. For now, he’d let the game speak for him. But someday, soon, he’d find the words—and the courage—to close the distance between them.