Chapter 176: Marina...

​Reid pulled back just enough to look into my eyes, his grey eyes wide with a mixture of overwhelming relief and quiet, fierce gratitude.

He leaned forward, pressing a deep, lingering kiss to my lips—a slow, tender promise that held none of the brutal edge of his rut, only the quiet, unbreakable bond of an Alpha holding his world together. ℴℴ𝘮

​"Thank you, Cap," he whispered against my lips, his hand sliding up to gently cradle the back of my head. "I’ve got you. I’ll handle Devin, I’ll handle everything, and I’ll make sure the line holds. You just focus on surviving the pill."

​"You better win that fucking game, McCoy," I gritted out, though a small, exhausted smile finally tugged at the corner of my mouth. "Because if I go through a hormonal storm just to watch us lose to the Vipers, I’m going to kick your ass the second I can stand again."

​Reid let out a low, genuine chuckle—the first real sound of relief to break through the apartment all day. "Understood, Captain. I’ll score three for you."

"Hold on," I murmured, gently tapping Reid’s chest so he’d loosen his grip enough for me to reach my phone on the coffee table.

​My fingers were still trembling as I unlocked the screen and dialed Vance back. He answered on the very first ring, his tone sharp and expectant.

​"Decided yet, Cap?"

​"Yeah," I rasped, taking a slow breath. "Change of plans. I’m taking the commercial emergency pill."

​There was a short pause on the line before Vance let out a low, approving whistle. "Smart move, Kain. A week of hell is better than a kid ruining your cherished career. I’ll have the high-dose synthetic pack prepped for you. You want me to leave it at the usual dead-drop, or are you picking it up?"

​"I’ll come get it myself once it’s ready," I said.

​"Fine. It’ll be ready in a couple of hours," Vance grunted. Then he paused, his tone shifting into a dry, annoyed rasp. "Oh, and do me a favor? Tell that Alpha of yours he’s a rude, arrogant son of a bitch. Hanging up on me like he owns the place..."

​A tiny, dry chuckle escaped my throat, though I didn’t dare look at Reid, who was currently glaring at the phone speaker. "I’ll pass the message along. Let me know when it’s ready."

​I cut the call and set the phone back down. The clock on the wall read just past 11:30 AM. Between the sheer emotional exhaustion, the adrenaline crash, and the lingering soreness in my body, my stomach let out a loud, hollow growl. We hadn’t even had breakfast yet, and my body was desperately running on empty.

​"Before I call Marina," I said, looking up at Reid, "we need to eat. If she walks in here and sees me looking like a ghost, she’ll pull this apartment apart before I can even explain."

​"Good call," Reid agreed quietly.

He helped me off the couch and guided me toward the master bathroom. While he went to order a heavy, protein-packed breakfast from a nearby diner, I locked myself in to get presentable. Washing away the lingering, heavy scent of our chaos helped, but the mirror revealed a terrifying truth: my throat, collarbones, and chest were completely painted in purplish-red bite marks and bruises.

​I dug through the spare clothes I had grabbed from my place earlier and pulled on a dark, thick wool turtleneck with long sleeves.

It was tight enough to keep my posture rigid and high enough to hide every single mark Reid had left on my neck.

By the time I shuffled out, wearing thick sweatpants over my sore hips, I looked remarkably like Captain Evans again—even if my legs still felt like lead.

​We ate in near-silence at the kitchen island, forcing down eggs, toast, and steak until my hands stopped shaking.

​Once the plates were cleared, I took a deep breath, picked up my phone, and called my sister.

​Twenty minutes later, the elevator chimed.

​The doors slid open, and Marina stepped into the penthouse foyer. She was dressed in a sharp, tailored corporate suit, her heels clicking rhythmically against the hardwood floor. But the moment she crossed into the living room, the atmosphere instantly shifted.

​She didn’t say a word at first. Marina walked over to the armchair opposite the sofa, sat down, and planted her feet firmly on the rug—legs spread wide, elbows resting heavily on her knees, her manicured fingers interlocked in front of her face.

She leaned forward, fixing us both with a dark, brooding glare that practically radiated corporate lethargy and sharp, lethal authority. A literal dark cloud seemed to hover above her head.

​Reid stood off to the side, his arms crossed over his chest, but under her terrifying gaze, he quietly turned his head away, utterly refusing to make eye contact with my sister.

​I sat on the couch, my legs pressed tightly together, my hands resting flat on top of my knees, sitting as stiffly as a soldier in front of a firing squad.

​"Tell me," Marina began, her voice smooth, dangerously low, and laced with absolute exhaustion. "This is the second time you’ve called me in a panic, Kain. I know I told you that you could always rely on me... but I am starting to get very worried that something catastrophic always happens whenever this brat is involved."

​Reid shifted his weight, clearing his throat awkwardly, but kept his eyes locked firmly on the floorboards.

​"Marina..." I started, my raspy voice dropping into a small, deeply guilty tone. "Reid... went into a rut."

​Marina’s left eyebrow twitched. She stared at me, her expression unreadable. "And why, exactly, do I need to know that your Alpha went into a rut?"

​I swallowed hard, my fingers digging into the fabric of my trousers over my knees. "The thing is... I went into a forced heat because of his pheromones. And we... we didn’t use protection."

​Marina closed her eyes for three long seconds. The silence in the room became so heavy you could hear the hum of the refrigerator.

​"So," I continued in a hushed whisper, "the probability of me getting pregnant right now is very high."

​Marina’s eyes snapped open. The dark cloud above her head seemed to double in size. The sharp, suffocating aura of an older sister who had spent ten years hiding an illegal secondary gender to protect her brother’s dream flared to a terrifying fever pitch.

​I rushed to fill the silence before she could blow a fuse, spilling the entire nightmare in one breath. "I called Vance. Because I ran out of my high-grade blockers two weeks ago, my system was completely wide open. The only way to guarantee a zero percent chance of pregnancy is a heavy, commercial synthetic emergency pill. But it’s going to trigger a violent hormonal crash for three days. I won’t be able to skate for Game 2 on Saturday."

​Marina didn’t move. She just stared at me, her jaw clenched tight, her interlocked fingers tightening until her knuckles turned white.

​"So, let me get this right," Marina said softly, a terrifying, sharp edge in her voice as her eyes slowly slid from me over to Reid. "You knotted my brother—the Captain of the Serpents—in the middle of the semifinals, put him in a position where he has to take a hormonal bomb, and now he has to miss a playoff game."

​Reid swallowed hard, finally looking up to meet her lethal gaze, his jaw set in a hard, solemn line. "I’m taking full responsibility, Marina. We’re going to put him in a private hospital wing for a fake fever. But we need you to handle Coach Devin so he doesn’t try to come confirm it himself."

"There... There’s one more thing," I added but couldn’t meet her eyes. "Two more of my teammates have found out my secret but don’t worry, they can’t rat me out unless they also want to lose their merits in the game. So it’s safe."

​Marina let out a long, slow breath, leaning back against the armchair and rubbing her temples, looking like she wanted to fire both of us into the sun.

​"You two," she muttered, her voice dropping into a dark, terrifying growl, "are going to be the absolute death of me."

Marina slowly unclasped her fingers, leaning back against the cushion, but her dark, brooding gaze never left my face. The sheer weight of her disappointment and fear was far worse than if she had simply screamed at us.

​"Is this really the path you’re taking now, Kain?" she asked quietly, her voice devoid of its usual sharp edge, replaced by a raw, heavy exhaustion that cut straight through my ribs.

​I swallowed hard, remaining frozen on the couch.

​"Ten years," Marina said, her eyes tracking over my rigid posture, taking in the thick turtleneck hiding Reid’s marks. "Ten years you built an iron vault around yourself. You calculated every dose, every media appearance, every single touch. And now... look at you. You’re sitting in your winger’s penthouse, legs trembling, about to swallow a synthetic bomb that will wreck your body for three days just so you don’t get pregnant."

​Reid made a subtle move as if to step forward, to take the brunt of her words, but Marina snapped her eyes toward him with a lethal, warning glare that froze him in his tracks.

​"I don’t even know anymore. I was happy for you since you finally had someone and was no longer lonely, but... I’m no longer sure if having an Alpha in your life was a good thing to begin with," she continued, her gaze dropping back to me, filled with a painful, protective grief. "You’re taking so many risks now, Kain. Unnecessary, reckless risks. You love this sport so much—so much that it terrifies me. What are you going to do if you get caught? Are you literally going to die for this game?"