Chapter 164: Benched

​Marcus blinked through the thick air, quickly grasping the severity of the situation. "Right. On it, Cap. Gerald, help me get him up—let’s take the private back exit to his car.​"

Through the fevered, possessive fog consuming Reid’s mind, his territorial instincts flared violently. He wanted me. Every fiber of his Alpha brain was screaming at him to drag me into a corner and claim me right there. But beneath the haze, he knew he had to hold back.

He gripped the edge of a bench so hard the wood groaned, forcing himself to stay anchored while Marcus and two staff members rushed forward to haul him up.

​"Hurry and leave!" I said, stepping completely out into the hallway to sever the scent line.

​I didn’t watch them leave. I couldn’t. I leaned against the cold concrete wall of the corridor, my hand clutching my chest as I forced air into my lungs, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Okay, Kain, calm down, he’s gone. I told myself but my heart wouldn’t stop racing and I feared my pheromones would spike out of control.

I currently had it under lock so it was fine. I just had to focus on the game.

Well, easier said than done.

​The second and third periods were an absolute nightmare.

​Without Reid on the ice, our line was thrown into complete disarray. But worse than my missing left winger was the agonizing storm raging inside my own head.

​During the second period, I couldn’t focus. Every time I stepped onto the ice, my eyes kept flicking to the empty spot on the bench where Reid should have been if he were not on the ice.

My mind kept racing back to him—picturing him burning with fever, completely out of his mind. Because of my distraction, I missed a crucial defensive read. The Vipers capitalized on my mistake, and they scored a goal past our goalie, tying the game.

​"Cap, what’s wrong with you today?" the assistant coach yelled from the bench as we skated off for the second intermission. "Your head isn’t in the game!"

​"I’m fine," I gritted out, though my hands were shaking inside my gloves.

We managed to score another, Russo scored for us, getting us ahead by one lead again but how long would that last with me in this condition?

​During the second break, my phone buzzed frantically. It was a text from Marcus:

​[We’re at the penthouse. Kain, it’s bad. He’s becoming violently aggressive. Cold showers aren’t working. He’s trashing the place. Should I call his family to fetch an Omega for him?]

​My blood ran completely ice-cold.

​"No!" I shouted out loud in the quiet stall, my thumb flying across the screen as a wave of fierce, possessive panic seized my throat.

​[NO! Do NOT call his family!] I typed frantically, my chest heaving. [And do not let any Omega near him! Just hold him off for a few more minutes. The game is almost over. I will handle it!]

There was a subtle pause at the other end. I was frantically wondering whether to type another message explaining the fact that this could lead to slander and rumors if the media found out when Marcus sent a response.

​[Alright, but you’ll have to hurry. He’s out of his mind.]

​I stared at the screen, my entire body trembling. If his family brought an Omega to him and Reid in his crazed state rejected them violently everything would collapse. And I don’t think I can even stand the thought of him trying to embrace the scent of another omega.

Just a little longer. I told myself, clutching my phone tight.

​When the third period started, I made a sudden, hard call.

​"Bench me," I told the coach, stepping back toward the wall.

​"What?! Kain, it’s the third period of the semifinals!" Coach Devin roared.

​"I can’t concentrate, Coach," I said, my voice tight and strained, keeping my head down. "My vision is blurry—I think I took a bad hit in the first period. Put Peter on my line. He can handle it."

​Coach Devin cursed loudly, but seeing the deathly pale state of my face, he had no choice. I sat on the bench for the entire third period, my leg bouncing incessantly, my eyes fixed on the arena clock as the seconds ticked down like agonizing hours.

​Miraculously, Peter scored on a breakaway with two minutes left on the clock. The horn blared. We won Game 1.

​The team erupted into cheers, but I didn’t even celebrate. The second the final buzzer sounded, I unclipped my helmet, sprinted down the tunnel, tore off my pads in record time, and practically threw myself into my street clothes.

​I drove like a madman through the night, almost running two red lights as I sped toward the residential district.

My shoulder was throbbing—a deep, burning ache where Reid’s mark sat, vibrating in direct resonance with his frantic, distant distress. He was suffering, and my body was screaming at me to reach him.

​When I finally reached the floor of his private penthouse, I stepped out of the elevator and slammed right into a wall of pure, suffocating pressure.

​The hallway smelled like a war zone. The frozen pine scent was so thick, so violently potent, that it felt like trying to breathe under water.

​Marcus was standing several feet away from the apartment door, his face pale, his hands over his mouth as he staggered back against the wall, shaking slightly on his knees. He couldn’t even stay inside, it seemed.

The manager might be a Beta but there was no surviving the kind of thickness in the air that Reid’s pheromones were producing.

​"Captain Evans..." Marcus called, his voice raspy as he held his breath, his eyes wide with genuine horror. "Don’t... don’t go in there. The pheromones... they’re toxic. I can barely stay standing. I think only an Alpha can be able to withstand it."

​I stopped in my tracks, my hand flying up to cover my own mouth as a violent, dizzying wave of heat slammed straight through my chest.

​My knees buckled slightly, my body shaking as a cold sweat broke out across my skin. I had been in the league for ten years. I had been surrounded by Alphas in every state of aggression, heat, and exhaustion. But never in my life had an Alpha’s rut made me react like this.

​It was the mark. My shoulder was burning like a hot iron. My Omega was completely resonating with the agony and possessive rage of my mate behind that locked door. Every instinct I had was commanding me to drop my guard, surrender to the heat, and go to him.

​"Captain, we need to call a medical team..." Marcus said, already heading back towards the elevator. "He’s going to destroy himself in there."

​"No," I choked out, forcing myself to stand tall despite the tremors racking my limbs. I looked at Marcus through the hazy heat, my voice unyielding even as my chest heaving. "Just leave, Marcus. I’ll handle this."

​"Kain, how do you plan to—?"

​"Somehow!" I cut him short. It must sound absurd to him, knowing I’m a Beta how. Just how did I plan to handle an Alpha in rut? "I have his inhibitor with me so I just need to get it to him. If anyone asks, he’s already under control. And if the inhibitors don’t worry, I’ll call you."ℴ