Chapter 181: What Results?

​The doctor looked up, his expression turning grave as he adjusted his glasses, completely unaware of the secrecy surrounding my identity. "Are you his family? Because I’m afraid the news is quite critical."

​I sat frozen on the bed, my fingers digging into the mattress as my breath hitched in my throat. Reid turned his head back toward the doctor, his posture rigid with sheer terror.

​"What results?" Reid rasped out.

​"Mr. Evans’s reproductive tract is in a severely precarious state," the doctor explained bluntly, holding up the high-resolution ultrasound image on his tablet. "His system shows evidence of extreme, long-term chemical suppression—at least a decade’s worth of heavy, synthetic blockers. However, due to a recent, intense exposure to Alpha pheromones without those blockers present, his body underwent a massive hyper-ovulation event."

​The doctor looked directly at me, his eyes filled with solemn pity.

​"The probability that fertilization has already taken place is exceptionally high," the doctor stated clearly. "And because of the severe chemical scarring on your uterine lining from years of illegal suppressants, your options are severely limited."

​A cold, suffocating paralysis settled over the room.

​"What do you mean ’limited’?" Reid demanded, his voice cracking with a raw, desperate edge.

​"If he attempts to use an aggressive hormonal abortion or heavy emergency flush right now," the doctor warned, "his compromised uterine lining will suffer catastrophic tearing. It will result in severe internal hemorrhaging, a complete loss of fertility, and potentially life-threatening complications. He may never be able to conceive again, or worse, suffer fatal reproductive failure."

​The doctor paused, his voice dropping into a heavy, quiet warning. "And if he chooses to carry a pregnancy under these conditions, it will be an extraordinarily high-risk gestation. His body will be fighting against a decade of chemical toxicity so he needs absolute care in all his trimester periods."

​The silence that followed was suffocating.

​Beside the doorway, Brad let out a soft, shuddering gasp, his eyes welling with tears as he looked at me. Brad knew that exact pain—the agonizing, terrifying burden of an Omega carrying a life through severe medical complications, the same struggle he had endured years ago when bringing Reid into the world.

And then the fact that I may never be able to give birth again. He was tearing up for the worse that could happen to me because he had already seen his fair share of the worse of it.

​Reid stared at the doctor, his face completely draining of color. His hands began to shake violently at his sides as the brutal reality crashed over him: I put him here. My rut did this to him.ℴℴ𝘮

​I looked down at my hands resting in my lap. The emergency pills were dissolved in a chemical bin.

A heavy abortion pill would destroy my body and permanently ruin my health. The cover story hadn’t even been delivered to Coach Devin yet because Marina was still downstairs but that did not send some comfort to me.

The fact that I would no longer be in sound health meant I could no longer play the violent sport I love so much, isn’t it? It meant the end of my career whether my secret stayed hidden or not.

​I looked up, my eyes locking onto Reid’s devastated, tear-filled grey eyes.

​There was no cover story for this anymore. There was only one choice left.

​"Doctor," I rasped out, my ruined voice firm, cold, and deadpan despite the terror screaming in my veins. "Am I physically capable of putting on my skates today?"

​The doctor blinked, taken aback. "I... physically, if you take anti-inflammatories, yes, but your hormonal levels are stable for the next few weeks or so, but—"

​"Then I’m playing," I said, cutting him off completely as I forced my sore, trembling legs to push me up from the bed.

I stood tall, pulling the thick turtleneck straight, channeling every single drop of Captain Evans into my spine.

​"Kain, no—" Reid choked out, stepping toward me with desperate, pleading eyes. "Kain, you can’t—"

​"We haven’t called Devin yet, Reid," I looked him dead in the eye, my voice unyielding. "The pills are gone and even if I get a new batch and take them, it’ll only lead to a catastrophe for both of us. Our future... I would like to think of that as well while I make my present decisions."

Reid looked at me with red guilty eyes. "Kain,"

"I am not lying in a hospital bed waiting for a diagnosis that might take weeks to confirm while our season burns. Now when I can still skate, I will skate. When I can still play, I will play. I do not want to have any regrets and even if this is the last seasonal game I play..." my hands were trembling, my heart was shaking, and my stomach was churning but I did not let my eyes burn with tears. I did not let my emotions pull me down at this critical moment. "I will play it with all I have because it might very much be my last," I clenched my fist. "Reid, we have Game 2 in four days. And I am stepping onto that ice."

Reid stared at me, started at the resolve I had come to, and then he sank to his knees. He knew it wasn’t easy for me. I loved the sports so much. So much that I gave up ten years of my identity. I loved it so much and yet how... "How can you make this decision so easily?" He whispered, unable to understand it. "This is the career you love so much, Kain."

It wasn’t easy. It was hard. I could see the dreams I honed for years burning into ash before my eyes. I could very well break down in tears now and mourn the future of this game I may never come to have. But not right now, not in front of his parents.

"It’s not easy," I said to Reid. "But I can’t see any other way out. Right now, I will stand tall and make this decision. I will be your rational and reasonable captain." I reached my hand towards him and he stared at it. "When it’s all over, I will mourn properly."

Fidora and Brad stared at me, words heavy on their tongues.

Fidora stood frozen in the doorway, her sharp Alpha posture rigid as the furious thunder in her eyes sharpened into something far colder, far more cynical.