Elliot POV
The locker room door shook again.
“Elliot! Open the damn door!”
I looked at Sebastian. He was still watching me, and I could tell he knew something was off, maybe not the whole truth, but enough that he’d start digging if I gave him the chance.
“Move.”
He stepped aside. I unlocked the door, and my teammate shoved it open.
“What took you so long?”
“Nothing. Changing.”
His eyes went past me to Sebastian. “What the hell is he doing here?”
“Checking on my favorite rival,” Sebastian said.
“Since when do you care?”
“I don’t.” He walked past him and left without another word.
Only when the door shut did I manage to breathe properly again.
“You okay?” my teammate asked.
“Fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“I lost the championship.”
“Yeah. We all did.” He grabbed his bag. “Coach wants everyone out in ten.”
Then he was gone, and I sat down with my hands still shaking. Sebastian knew. Six years of hiding, and one night with him had nearly wrecked everything.
I finished changing and left through the back, careful not to run into him. Not seeing him should have felt better, but it didn’t.
The streets were almost empty by the time I got home. I unlocked the door, went inside, locked it, then checked the lock a second time and hated that I was doing it.
I’d never been afraid of Sebastian before. Annoyed, yes. Angry, constantly. Afraid—no. Tonight was different, and I couldn’t shake the feeling.
I turned on the bathroom light and stared at the tired face in the mirror: dark hair, freckles, pale skin. Nothing about me looked like the thing I’d spent six years protecting.
I opened the cabinet, reached behind the painkillers, and pulled out the black case of suppressants. I took one, then stopped with my hand still shaking. I’d already taken an extra after the game, and taking more could make things worse, but I couldn’t risk reacting again.
I swallowed another one, leaned on the sink with my eyes closed, and tried to steady myself. They’d worked for six years. They’d gotten me through every medical and every physical. Everyone thought I was a Beta, and that was the only reason I still had a career.
The league didn’t let Omegas play openly. There were rules, contracts that could disappear overnight, and sponsors that would walk the second they found out. I’d known all of it when I started the suppressants at nineteen. I knew exactly what would happen if anyone discovered the truth.
Everything would be gone.
I opened my eyes, and Sebastian’s face came back, the look when he smelled me, the certainty in his voice.
“Forget it,” I muttered. I needed sleep.
My phone buzzed with an unknown number.
You should lock your door tonight.
My stomach dropped. A second message followed right after.
Pretty things get stolen.
I stopped breathing. It had to be Sebastian. He was the only one who’d called me that tonight. But the messages didn’t feel like him. Sebastian was direct. He wouldn’t hide behind an unknown number.
I typed back.
Who is this?
Nothing came.
I checked the whole place: kitchen, living room, bedroom. Nothing looked out of place. The windows and doors were locked, and I checked the chain again just to be sure.
I called my doctor and got voicemail, then hung up. Calling Coach wasn’t an option either. What would I even say? Someone knows I’m an Omega? I couldn’t get the words out.
I sat on the bed. My body still felt wrong. The suppressants were working, but not enough, and that scared me
more than the messages.
Something had changed when Sebastian got close. I didn’t understand it, and I didn’t want to.
I lay down, but hiding didn’t feel like enough anymore.
I woke after midnight with my heart pounding, and then I smelled it.
Alpha.
I sat up. The room was dark and empty. The door was still locked. I went to the window and pulled the curtain aside.
A black SUV sat across the street.
My heart stopped for a second.
The passenger window rolled down. Sebastian was looking straight at my window. He lifted two fingers and smiled.
I stepped back. How did he know where I lived? I’d never given him the address.
My phone buzzed again, this time from a different number.
The league already has a file on you.
Seventy-two hours.
After that, the commissioner gets everything.
I couldn’t move. Someone had my medical file. Someone knew. And Sebastian was sitting outside like he belonged there.
My phone lit up again—his number this time.
Come downstairs, Elliot.
We need to talk before they get to you.
I looked out the window. He was still waiting.
Six years of trusting no one, and now the person I trusted least was the only one standing between the people who wanted to end my career.
I grabbed my jacket, then stopped.
Why was he here? How did he know the league was coming?
The headlights came on.
My phone buzzed one more time.
You have ten minutes.
I stared at the message, then at the locked door, and I wasn’t sure which side was safer.
