Chapter 171: What the actual fuck?!

​Reid didn’t hesitate, though I could hear the subtle, razor-thin edge of tension in his quick stride as he grabbed the device. "Yeah. He... he left his phone when he came over to check on my rut that night. I think he hasn’t come to get or because he thinks I’m still in a rut. That’s probably why you couldn’t get through."

​A heavy, thick pause hung over the living room.

​"Right..." Marcus said slowly, though the skepticism in his voice was thick enough to cut with a knife. "Well, if you talk to him, tell him to call me ASAP. We need him at practice tomorrow morning."

​"Will do," Reid said, his tone leaving zero room for further conversation as he began ushering them toward the front door. "Thanks for the coffee, guys. I need to rest."

​"Yeah, see ya, McCoy," Gerald said.

​As the footsteps retreated toward the foyer, Miller’s quiet, hushed whisper carried distinctly down the hallway, meant only for Russo. "I bet ten grand he’s hiding that Omega in his bedroom right now. Look how twitchy he is."

​Russo let out a low snort. "Dude, if I had an Omega that smelled like that, I wouldn’t let him out of the bed either."

"So, you’re looking for an Omega now?" Miller asked, inching closer until their shoulders brushed but Russo did not say anything to counter and just kept walking.

​The front door finally clicked shut and a long, heavy exhale exploded from Reid’s chest on the other side of the apartment.

​A second later, the bathroom door swung open. Reid stepped inside, his grey eyes wide with residual adrenaline, looking down at me as I sat helplessly on the toilet seat, my legs still trembling too much to stand.

​"That was too close," I breathed, running a hand over my face.

​"Come here," Reid murmured, his expression softening instantly into that protective, fierce warmth. He reached down, slipping his arms under my thighs and back, effortlessly lifting my sore, unstable frame into his chest. "Let’s get you to the couch. You need real air."

​"My legs are useless," I muttered, resting my forehead against his collarbone as he carried me out of the bedroom and down the hallway into the spacious living room. "Just how am I going to practice tomorrow?"

"Sorry cap. I caused this." He said but I simply sighed.

I guess I would have to come up with an excuse to get the coach out of my neck for not engaging in the morning drill. Do I have to fake an injury or something? Ugh.

Reid walked over to the large sofa, carefully lowering me onto the plush cushions. As soon as my back settled against the pillows, Reid didn’t pull away. He hovered over me, his hand cupping the back of my neck, his grey eyes locked onto mine with a sudden, deep intensity that made my heart race for an entirely different reason.

​"You okay, Cap?" he whispered softly.

​"I am now," I replied, a tiny, genuine smile touching my lips.

​Reid leaned down, pressing his lips against mine in a soft, slow, deeply affectionate kiss—a quiet promise that we would figure something out as long as we both put our heads together.

I melted into the touch, my hand reaching up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as the sweet taste of him filled my senses.

​Click.

​The distinct, sharp sound of the penthouse front door unlocking echoed through the foyer.

​"Hey, Reid, Marcus said to tell you that—"

​Russo’s voice cut off instantly.

​Reid froze mid-kiss, his body locking up like iron over mine. I snapped my eyes open, my heart instantly dropping straight into my stomach.

​Standing in the entryway, holding the spare keycard Marcus kept for emergencies, were Russo and Miller.

​The clipboard slid out of Miller’s hand, hitting the floor with a sharp, echoing clack.

​The silence that followed was absolute. Terrifying.

​Russo and Miller stood frozen like statues, their eyes wide, completely blown out in sheer, unadulterated shock.

​They weren’t looking at a random, hidden Omega. They were looking at their Captain.

​I was pinned beneath their star winger on the couch, wearing Reid’s massive, oversized T-shirt. The fabric was pulled down just enough to reveal a terrifying canvas of bite marks, angry red suction bruises, and deep scratches running down my throat, my collarbones, and exposed, bare thighs.

My hair was a messy, post-heat disaster, my face flushed, and my eyes completely bare.

​The heavy, lingering scent of Reid’s possessive frozen pine was wrapped so tightly around me that it was impossible to deny.

​"Cap...?" Russo choked out, his voice barely a squeak, his face turning entirely pale.

​Miller’s jaw was practically resting on his chest, his eyes darting from the bite marks on my neck, to Reid’s hand tangled in my shirt, and back to my face.

​"What... what the actual fuck?" Miller whispered.

Neither Reid nor I moved for three agonizing seconds. The world contracted to the width of the entryway, where Russo stood frozen with his hand still hovering over the doorknob and Miller stared at my exposed thigh like he’d just witnessed a corpse sit up.

​My heart wasn’t pounding—it had completely stopped. My throat locked up, my lungs refusing to expand under the weight of their wide, unblinking eyes.

​Reid was the first to break the paralysis.

​With a low, lethal snarl, he shifted his massive body, deliberately blocking their view of me with his broad back. He grabbed the hem of the oversized shirt, yanking it down over my thighs, and threw a protective arm over my chest to shield the dark bite marks painting my collarbones.

​"Get the fuck out," Reid growled, his voice dropping into a register so dark and guttural it vibrated through the floorboards. His grey eyes flashed with the raw, volatile aggression of an Alpha whose territory had just been breached. "Get out. Now!"

​Russo took a frantic step backward, his boots sliding on the hardwood as his face drained of every last drop of color. "Cap... McCoy... we—Marcus gave us the card—we didn’t—"

​"I said get out!" Reid roared, standing up from the couch so fast the heavy wooden frame groaned.

He took two menacing steps toward the foyer, his towering frame completely cutting off their line of sight to where I lay helpless on the cushions. "I won’t repeat myself."