“Jesus, what?” Darren snaps, looking at each of us in turn. “You’re all acting weird as hell.”
“You’re a fucking omega, dude,” Zayn blurts out.
I close my eyes briefly. Of all the ways to break the news, trust Zayn to choose the blunt force approach.
Darren stares at Zayn for a long moment, then barks out a laugh that makes him wince in pain. “Very funny. Concussion jokes. Classy.”
“It’s not a joke,” I say quietly. “The doctors ran tests. Your scent changed on the ice. We all noticed it.”
Darren’s face goes through a rapid sequence of emotions. Disbelief, confusion, anger. “That’s bullshit,” he says flatly, finally settling on denial. “I’m a beta. Always have been.”
“Apparently not,” Zayn says, earning another glare from Dmitri.
“The doctor says the head trauma might have triggered a latent presentation,” I explain, keeping my voice steady. “It’s rare but?—“
“It’s fucking impossible is what it is,” Darren cuts me off, his heart monitor beeping faster. “I’m twenty-seven years old. I’m not some teenager hitting puberty.” His hands clench into fists in the blanket. “This is some kind of mistake.”
“No mistake,” Dmitri says, his deep voice gentle in a way I’ve rarely heard. “We all smell it. Woodsmoke.”
Even he’s come to terms with it. But Darren is going to be another matter entirely.
Fear appears on Darren’s face, but it’s quickly transformed into anger. “So I smell different, so fucking what? That doesn’t make me an omega. Maybe it’s a side effect of the concussion, or the drugs they’ve got me on.”
“The blood tests confirmed it,” Dmitri adds simply.
Darren goes still, processing this. The monitor beside him shows his heart rate climbing steadily. “No,” he says finally, yanking the IV from his arm with a wince. “This is bullshit. I’m getting out of here.”
Aidan steps forward, hands raised placatingly. “Darren, you need to rest. The doctor said?—”
“I don’t give a fuck what the doctor said!” Darren swings his legs over the side of the bed, the movement nearly toppling him as he underestimates his own weakness. “I’m not an omega. I can’t be. Do you know what that would mean? My career, my whole fuckinglife?—“
He tries to stand and immediately sways, grabbing the bed rail for support. Blood trickles down his arm where he ripped out the IV. The heart monitor wails as the sensors lose contact.
“Darren, stop,” I say firmly, moving toward him. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”
“Back off, Jax,” he warns, voice low and dangerous despite his obvious weakness. “I’m fine.”
But he’s not fine. His face has gone pale, and he’s swaying on his feet. The sudden movement after hours of lying down has left him dizzy, vulnerable to further injury if he falls.
“You need to get back in bed,” I say, stepping closer.
“I said back off!” He pushes away from the bed, stumbling toward the door. His legs give out halfway there, and he starts to fall.
Instinct takes over. “STOP!” I bark, my alpha voice cutting through the room with enough force to make even Zayn flinch.
Darren freezes mid-stumble, his body responding to the command before his brain can process it. He drops to his knees, a textbook omega response to an alpha command that leaves us all shocked into silence.
We all freeze. Then awareness gradually floods back into Darren’s eyes, replacing shock with something far more dangerous. His head turns slowly toward me, blood from his arm dripping onto the linoleum floor, face twisting into an expression I’ve never seen directed at me before.
Pure, unadulterated rage.
Oh shit.
Chapter
Five
DARREN
