Chapter
Thirty-Six
DARREN
The world tilts sideways, and I can't fucking breathe. My skin feels like it's on fire, and my blood like it's literally boiling. Real heat, not the game-induced sweat I'm used to, rips through me like a goddamn wildfire. The suppressants were supposed to prevent this. Were supposed to keep me safe, keep me functional, keep me from becoming exactly what I am right now, which is a pathetic omega going into heat in front of thousands of people.
Zayn's hands are on me, dragging me through the tunnel, and I want to lean into his touch and run from it at the same time. His leather scent is overwhelming, making my head spin worse than it already is. Everything smells too strong, too much. The arena reeks of alpha aggression and my own humiliation.
"Just a little further," Zayn mutters in my ear, his grip tightening as my legs threaten to give out. "Come on, Brick. Stay with me."
Brick. The nickname feels like a mockery now even though for once, he's not being a dick. He's being caring and attentive and protective, and somehow that makes it so much worse.
Some fucking brick I turned out to be, crumbling at the first real test. All the suppressants, all the pretending I could still be the player I was before, and for what? To end up proving everyone right who said an omega couldn't hack it in the NHL?
They shove me into a room, either some kind of VIP suite or green room, but I can't tell through the haze, and suddenly I'm surrounded. Jax, Dmitri, Zayn, and then Aidan stumbles in, his knuckles bloody, his face wild.
"Is he—" Aidan starts, then stops when he sees me slumped against the wall. "Fuck, Darren, I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry."
"For what?" I manage to croak out, though speaking feels like swallowing glass. "For defending me? For doing what I couldn't?"
Because that's the real kicker, isn't it? I couldn't even defend myself. Just stood there like prey while Morris came at me, while the whole arena watched me fall apart. If Aidan hadn't?—
"I went too far," Aidan says, and there's a haunted quality in his green eyes. "I nearly killed him. I couldn't stop, I just… When I saw him coming for you?—"
"You did what you had to," I cut him off, because I saw Morris's face too. Saw the feral look in his eyes when he caught my scent, when he realized what I was. That wasn't going to end with a clean check into the boards. My gut churns with revulsion at the thought of what he would've done if he'd gotten to me. "Would've been a bloodbath either way."
"Darren's right," Jax says, his captain voice cutting through the chaos in my head. "Morris crossed a line. We all saw it. We'll all vouch for what happened."
"Fucker's lucky to be breathing," Dmitri adds, his accent thicker with anger. "Coming after pack like that."
Pack. The word makes my chest hurt.
But fuck, the way they're looking at me. I can see it in their eyes, the way their nostrils flare slightly, the tightness in theirshoulders. They're affected by my heat, trying so hard not to show it, to be good teammates, good packmates. Jax's jaw is clenched so tight I'm surprised his teeth don't crack. Dmitri's standing further back than usual, hands fisted at his sides. Even Zayn, who's still got an arm around me, is breathing through his mouth while trying to keep as much space between us as he can.
I spent so long fighting my designation, convinced it would change everything, but here they are. Still treating me like a teammate. Still looking out for me. Still trying to give me space even though this room smells like a fucking rut house.
What did I think? That my teammates, the men I've played alongside for years, were going to do a sudden one-eighty the moment I went into heat, like that bastard out on the ice?
The realization that reality couldn't be further from the truth is at once a comfort and a source of shame. I can rely on my pack, but can they rely on me? After tonight, I'm not so sure.
"Stop that," Jax says sharply, and I realize he's reading my face. "Whatever you're thinking, stop. This doesn't change anything."
"Doesn't it?" I laugh, but it comes out more like a sob. "I just went into heat in the middle of a fucking game. The whole world saw. The press is going to?—"
"Fuck the press," Zayn interrupts, finally stepping back. "We need to get you somewhere safe."
Safe. Right. Because I'm an omega that needs protecting now. The irony isn't lost on me. The Brick, who spent his whole career protecting others, reduced to this.
"Where's Lexie?" The question tears out of me before I can stop it. Because if I've ruined things with my own career, that's one thing. But Lexie... "She saw everything. She was in the VIP box, she?—"
"Dmitri already left to get her," Jax assures me.
I look around the room and wonder when the hell the mountain of an alpha disappeared. Fuck, my head is clouded.
"She's probably worried sick," Aidan mutters, clearly still beating himself up for beating the ever loving shit out of Morris out there. Have to admit, I didn't know the rookie had it in him.
He's right. She must be worried. Or disgusted. Or reconsidering everything about being with someone who just proved he can't control his own biology. The thought makes me want to curl up and die.
