The rage burns like the surface of the fucking sun inside me, an inferno consuming every rational thought. I’m on my knees—on my fuckingknees—because Jax barked an order at me. And my body just... obeyed. Like I’m some kind of pet.
No. No fucking way.
I stare at the droplets of blood marking the floor beneath me, watching them spread into tiny crimson pools. Each one a sobering reminder of what I’m losing with every second I stay in this goddamn hospital room.
My career. My identity. Everything I’ve fought for.
“Darren,” Jax says, his voice careful now, stripped of that commanding tone. “You need to stay calm.”
Calm? My heart hammers against my ribs like it’s trying to escape. I close my eyes, but that only makes it worse. Behind my eyelids, fragmented memories surface. Medical staff hovering over me earlier, speaking in hushed tones.
“Hormone levels rising rapidly...”
“Late presentation, very unusual...”
“We’ll need to register his status change...”
I’d thought it was a dream, a concussion-induced hallucination. But the words circle back now with terrible clarity.
“Get away from me,” I growl, the sound barely human in my own ears.
None of them move. They’re all watching me like I’m a bomb about to detonate. And they’re right.
The scents… Gods, thescents. How did I never notice before? Jax smells like bourbon, rich and warm. Dmitri’s scent is sharp, like winter air and pine. Zayn’s leather scent curls around the edges of my awareness, more appealing than it has any fucking right to be considering how much I hate him. If there was any logic to the world, he’d smell like hair gel and too much testosterone. And Aidan smells like vanilla and sugar, like a fucking bakery, but the rookie’s scent makes my mouth water in a way even my favorite desserts never have and that’s the most disturbing part of all.
And all of it mixes with the woodsmoke they claim is coming from me.
So that wasn’t just a hallucination. At least, not one that’s going away anytime soon.
I guess I should count my blessings I don’t smell like a fucking rose.
“This can’t be happening,” I mutter, more to myself than them.
“It is happening,” Zayn says, because of course he can’t keep his fucking mouth shut. “And throwing a tantrum won’t change it.”
“You’re not helping right now,” Jax growls, always the leader. The peacemaker.
Usually, it’s not a job I envy him. Right now, his reasonable bullshit is pissing me off even more than Zayn is. Especially consideringhe’sthe one who used his fucking bark.
Onme.
Now that the hazy cloud the bark formed in my head has dissipated, leaving only cold realization in its wake, something snaps inside me.
I lunge from my knees, ignoring the way my vision swims and my head screams in protest. My shoulder connects with Jax’s midsection, driving him back against the wall with enough force to rattle the medical charts hanging there. His breath leaves him in a rush, eyes widening in surprise.
“Darren!” Aidan yelps somewhere behind me, but I’m locked onto Jax.
“Fight back,” I snarl, pinning him to the wall, forearm pressed against his chest. “Fucking fight back so I can knock your ass out!”
But Jax doesn’t. His gray eyes hold mine, calm and infuriatingly steady despite the situation. His hands come up, but only to stabilize himself, not to strike at me.
“I’m not going to fight you,” he says quietly.
The control in his voice makes my blood boil hotter. He’s treating me like I’m made of glass already. Like I’m some tiny little yappy dog that needs to be handled with care. A fucking omega.
“Don’t you dare,” I hiss, grabbing the front of his jersey. “Don’t you fucking dare start handling me with kid gloves.”
I draw back my fist and swing. Jax turns his head at the last moment, taking the blow on his cheek instead of his jaw. It’s a glancing hit, nowhere near what I’m capable of, but it splits his skin all the same. A trickle of blood appears at the corner of his mouth.
