“Stop looking at me like that,” I snap at him.
Zayn doesn’t flinch. “Like what?”
“Like I’m different.” My voice cracks on the last word, betraying me.
“You are different,” he says bluntly.
I lunge forward again, but this time, it’s Aidan who steps between us. “He didn’t mean it like that,” the kid says quickly. “Right, Zayn?”
Zayn shrugs, which only fuels my anger. But I’m suddenly too exhausted to act on it. The adrenaline is fading, leaving me hollowed out and aching everywhere. My head throbs in time with my heartbeat. The blood from my arm has slowed to a lazy trickle, making my skin itch where it dries.
And the scents. Gods, they’re overwhelming now. Each of them distinct yet somehow harmonized, like they belong together. Likewebelong together. The thought freaks me out in ways I can’t even begin to articulate.
“I want you all to leave,” I say, the words dropping into the tense silence like stones on a lake.
They exchange glances, a silent pack communication that, for the first time, leaves me feeling like an outsider. Even more than when I was just a beta.
“Darren,” Jax begins, “I don’t think you should be alone right now.”
“I don’t care what you think.” I sink onto the edge of the bed, suddenly too weak to keep standing. “Get out. All of you.”
None of them move. Jax’s eyes, those piercing gray eyes that can silence a locker room with a single look, fill with concern.
“Now!” I roar, the effort sending fresh pain lancing through my skull.
Aidan flinches. Dmitri’s massive frame tenses. Even Zayn looks taken aback by the force of my outburst.
“Okay,” Jax says calmly, holding up his hands like I’m a wild horse he’s trying to tame. “We’ll give you space. But we’re not going far.”
“Wherever you go, make it away from me,” I mutter, refusing to meet his eyes.
They file out slowly. Zayn first, then Aidan with a last worried glance over his shoulder. Dmitri follows last, his bulk making the room feel suddenly larger with his absence.
Jax lingers at the door. “This doesn’t change who you are to us,” he says quietly.
I laugh, the sound scraped raw from my throat. “It changes everything, and you know it.”
He doesn’t argue. After a moment, he steps into the hallway, pulling the door closed behind him.
When I’m finally alone, I cover my face with my hands. My body shakes with emotions I can’t even name. Grief, maybe. Rage, definitely. Fear, undeniably. The bandage on my head feels too tight, the hospital gown thin and exposing.
I lift my head, catching my reflection in the darkened window across the room. Same stubbled jaw. Same blue eyes. Same short brown hair mussed from the game and the struggle. I still look like me. But according to everyone else, I’m not me anymore.
The scents linger even with them gone. Bourbon, winter, leather, vanilla. And underneath it all, woodsmoke.Myscent. An omega’s scent.
I grab the nearest object, a glass water pitcher, and hurl it against the wall. It shatters satisfyingly, water splattering acrossthe floor. But the brief relief fades almost instantly, leaving me emptier than before.
Twenty-seven years as a beta. Seven seasons in the NHL. Three All-Star selections. An identity built on being the toughest, most dependable defenseman in the league. All of it ripped away by one hit, one concussion, one biological twist of fate I never saw coming.
I curl forward, pressing my forehead against my knees, trying to block out everything. The scents, the memories, the terrible certainty that nothing will ever be the same again.
I’m an omega.
And there’s no coming back from this.
Chapter
Six
