Chapter 147: A Stand off

The tension in the narrow alleyway cracked like a breaking sheet of ice.

​Edward stood frozen for a beat, his hand still hovering near his chin as he digested the weight of my words.

The casual, calculating confidence he’d held just moments ago seemed to fracture under the sheer intensity of the truth. His gaze flicked from my face down to where my hands were locked around Reid’s forearm, then up to the towering, murderous frame of the rookie.

​"Ah," Edward murmured softly, a breath of cold air escaping his lips as he slowly dropped his hand. "So... the rumors were true, huh?"

​"Yeah, they were true, you bastard!" Reid snarled, his broad chest heaving violently against my shoulder as he tried to take another step forward. The fury in his voice was raw, practically vibrating through the fabric of his jacket. "You got a problem with it? I knew I didn’t like you the moment I saw you smiling at Cap last week, acting like a damn gentleman. It’s always the ’good guys’ who make the most trouble."

​"That’s enough, Reid. Don’t say any more," I commanded, my tone dropping into that sharp, authoritative register I used when a game was slipping out of our hands.

​I squeezed his arm tighter, digging my fingers into his forearm to anchor him.

Reid’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle twitched violently in his cheek, but he forced his boots to stay glued to the pavement, his steel-grey eyes still drilling holes straight through Edward’s head.

​I looked up at Reid, my voice dropping to a low, urgent whisper meant only for him. "Regardless of this, Reid... Edward still knows my secret. We have to tread with caution."

​The unhinged, possessive heat in Reid’s eyes flickered for a fraction of a second, the cold reality of the situation finally cutting through his territorial bloodlust.

Edward Stein wasn’t just any Alpha hitting on his partner—he was a rival captain holding a match that could set our entire lives on fire.

​Edward looked at the two of us, his gaze lingering on how tightly I was shielding myself behind Reid’s shoulder.

The light of the neon sign overhead cast sharp shadows across his face, making it impossible to read whether the expression behind his eyes was calculation or something entirely different.

​The silence between the three of us stretched out, thick, dangerous, and hanging by a single, fragile thread.

Edward took a slow deliberate drag of his cigar, the tip flaring a bright, menacing orange in the dim space between us.

He exhaled a long cloud of smoke that drifted lazily over our heads, his intelligent eyes never leaving my face.

​"Tread with caution," Edward repeated my whispered words aloud, a faint, deeply unnerving smile pulling at the corner of his lips. "Smart advice, Evans. Because right now, the two of you are standing on a massive pile of dynamite, and I’m holding the match."

​Reid’s entire body went rigid. A dangerous, low vibration rumbled in his chest—a warning sound so pure and animalistic it made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

"Threaten him again," Reid hissed, his knuckles cracking as he tried to pry his arm from my desperate grip. "Threaten him again and see if you walk out of this alley on your own two feet, Stein."

​"It’s not a threat, McCoy. It’s a fact," Edward said smoothly, his tone shifting from the polite gentleman to a cold, calculating competitor who realized exactly how much leverage he had just stumbled into.

He looked down at the way I was holding Reid, a flash of something dark and envious crossing his features. "An unregistered Omega leading an Alpha team. The fact he’s an Omega playing the sport is already illegal. And then, to keep his identity secret, what did he have to do? Use illegal blockers, perhaps? And that ends up rigging league drug tests. There must be a lot more he had to do to keep his secret and if the board gets a single whiff of this, Evans isn’t just banned. The Serpents lose their entire season’s record. Every win. Dropped to the bottom of the division. And you?" He flicked his gaze to Reid. "An accomplice to a league fraud. Your rookie contract? Voided before midnight."

​The words hit like a physical blow. The absolute finality of it made my breath catch in my throat. Everything I had sacrificed, everything Reid had fought to build—Edward could crush it with a single phone call.

​"You think I give a shit about a contract?" Reid roared, his scent of frozen pine spiking so violently it felt suffocating, turning toxic with pure, unadulterated rage.

He finally broke my grip, stepping directly into Edward’s space, his massive chest slamming hard against the older captain’s shoulder. "Report it. Go ahead. See what happens to you before the league even opens the investigation."

​Edward didn’t flinch. He met Reid’s bloodshot glare with an icy, unwavering calm, his morning dew scent flaring up to challenge the rookie’s dominance.

The two Alphas stood chest-to-chest, the air between them so thick with territorial hostility it felt like a single spark would cause an explosion.

​"Reid, step back!" I lunged forward, throwing my body between them, my hands pressing hard against Reid’s chest to force him away. "Look at me! Step back!"

​Reid’s chest was heaving, his eyes wild and unhinged as he looked down at me, his jaw locked in stone. "Cap, he’s—"

​"I said step back!" I barked, my captain’s authority ringing out, sharp and non-negotiable.

​Slowly, agonizingly, Reid took a half-step back, though his hands remained curled into lethal fists, his eyes never leaving the rival captain.

​I turned around to face Edward, my face completely pale, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I couldn’t let the panic show. I had to negotiate. I had to find out his price.

​"What do you want, Edward?" I asked, my voice dropping into a flat, deadly whisper. "You didn’t lay all of this out just to report us immediately. If you wanted to do that, you would have already called Marcus or the officials. What is your price to keep this quiet?"

​Edward looked at me, his expression softening just a fraction, the calculating coldness melting back into that strange, intense earnestness that had short-circuited my brain moments before.

He took the cigar out of his mouth and dropped it to the damp pavement, crushing the ember beneath the heel of his boot.

​"I already told you my price, Kain," Edward murmured, stepping closer until he was completely disregarding Reid’s lethal presence just behind me. His eyes locked onto mine, burning with a quiet, dangerous obsession. "Break it off with the rookie. Go out with me instead. Keep me happy, and your secret stays buried forever."

​Before I could even process the horrific weight of his ultimatum, a violent hand grabbed my shoulder, yanking me completely behind a broad, navy-jacketed back.

​Reid had snapped.

​"That’s it," Reid growled, a terrifying, dark smile spreading across his face as his grey eyes went entirely void of reason. "You’re dead."

"Reid, no!"

But before Reid’s fist could throw a punch, a sudden burst of loud, drunken laughter echoed from the main street, spilling directly into the mouth of the alleyway.

​"Yo, no way! Is that—dude, that’s Evans and McCoy!"

​A group of four young guys, clad in Serpents jerseys and holding open beer cans, froze at the entrance of the alley.

Their eyes went wide as they took in the scene: the narrow brick walls practically vibrating with a suffocating, hostile Alpha tension, the Serpents’ star rookie looking completely unhinged with his fists clenched, and me—their captain—with both of my hands frantically locked over Reid’s forearm to stop him from making a mistake, my face pale under the dim neon light.

​"Holy shit, it is them! And is that... Stein? From the Avalanche?"

​Before any of us could react or de-escalate, two of the fans immediately pulled out their smartphones. The flash of a camera lens blinked sharply in the shadows, capturing the raw agitation, the defensive way I was holding Reid back, and the damning, suffocating proximity between the three league stars.

​Click. Click.

​"Hey! Cap! Awesome game tonight!" one of them yelled, completely oblivious to the lethal undercurrent as he snapped another photo. "You guys celebrating?!"

​The sudden intrusion hit Reid like a splash of freezing water. His jaw locked, the primal, territorial urge to tear Edward apart violently clashing with the ingrained instinct of a professional athlete under a lens.

He didn’t drop his fists, but he stopped his forward lunges, his broad shoulders trembling with the sheer effort of suppressing his rage while the cameras were pointed at his face.

​Edward, ever the clinical professional, didn’t lose his composure for a single second. The moment the fans appeared, his harsh morning-dew pheromones vanished, smoothing back into a perfectly calm, neutral aura.

He even offered the fans a brief, polite nod, seamlessly playing the part of the gracious, defeated captain catching up with his rivals post-game.

​He looked down at me one last time, a quiet, knowing chuckle escaping his throat. It was a soft, deeply unsettling sound.

​"Think about it, Evans," Edward murmured, his voice smooth and entirely unbothered by the flashing phones. He took a single step backward, melting effortlessly into the shadows toward the street. "I’ll be waiting for a response. And I hope it’s positive."

​With a final, lingering look at the way my hands were still desperately wrapped around Reid’s arm, Edward turned on his heel and walked away, leaving us standing in the cold air as the fans continued to whisper and point their screens directly at us.

This was a total nightmare.