Chapter 48
Laurent
T he locker room’s gone quiet. Empty benches. Towels slung over hooks. A few reporters are still loitering outside the glass, hoping I’ll come back for a quote or a picture or something else I don’t feel like giving.
I scored a goddamn hat trick. The crowd was screaming my name. And where was my pack? Gone. I step out through the private entrance, jaw tight, trying not to take it personally. But it’s hard not to when the victory high crashes into silence and absence.
Then I see the car. Our usual SUV, black and sleek, parked near the loading dock. Our driver leans against the hood, looking at his phone like he hasn’t noticed the world fell apart.
I approach him slowly. “You’re still here?”
He looks up, startled. “Mr. Sable. Yeah, I was told to wait. But the others... They left in a rush. Something about an emergency.”
I pause, ice creeping down my spine. “Emergency?”
I mean, Cole said something but didn’t go into detail.
He nods. “Didn’t say what. Just that they’d make other arrangements.”
No one told me. Not Cole. Not Mass. Not even Sébastien, and he usually can’t go twenty minutes without texting me something sweet and ridiculous.
I pull out my phone, irritation prickling under my skin. Call Cole first. Straight to voicemail. Of course.
I dial Massimo next. It rings once. Twice. Then... click. “Laurent,” he answers, calm and unbothered like he didn’t just abandon me at the arena.
“You left me.”
“We had to move fast.”
“You didn’t text. ”
“We were managing two Omegas in Heat.”
That stops me. Cold. “Both of them?”
“Yes.”
I drag my hand through my hair. “Where are you?”
Massimo gives me the address. A hotel. I recognize the name; discreet, high-end, Omega suites.
I nod to the driver. “Let’s go.”
The ride is short. Too short. I sit in the back seat, arms folded, letting the low hum of the engine fill the silence while my thoughts twist like a blade in my chest. I should be pissed. I am pissed. But beneath the sting of being left behind is something else. Something heavier.
They moved as a unit . Chose each other. Protected the Omegas. And I wasn’t there. Not because they didn’t trust me. But because they didn’t have time to reach me. That stings more than I want to admit.
I’ve been part of this longer than Rowan. Longer than Sébastien. I’ve trained with Cole. Bled for Xavier. Slept shoulder-to-shoulder with Massimo in hotel rooms between away games and warzones.
And yet... the center of the pack has shifted. I can feel it. Rowan and Sébastien are pulling us into something new. And if I’m not careful, I’m going to end up orbiting instead of belonging.
The SUV pulls up to the private entrance of the hotel. It’s discreet, just like I expected. No cameras. No lobby. Just a dedicated elevator and a quiet attendant who takes one look at me and steps aside without a word.
Massimo must’ve cleared the path already. Smart. Necessary. The elevator ride is silent. But my heart’s not. It’s pounding now. Loud enough to feel in my throat. I don’t know what I’m walking into. When the doors slide open, I step into the hallway, and it hits me like a brick wall. Scent. Thick, heavy, cloying.
Peach cobbler and honeysuckle, sticky-sweet and soaked in need. Wild honey and rain, rich and earthy and desperate. My steps falter. It’s everywhere. I follow the trail, jaw tight, pulse hammering in my ears. My Alpha instincts rise, hot and sharp and unsettled. Not because I’m triggered into rut, but because something happened.
The suite door is slightly ajar. I push it open slowly. Inside is chaos wrapped in silk. I follow my nose and find the nesting room. Opening the door, my mind is blown by what I see. Sébastien is sitting on the edge of the nest with Rowan, riding his impressive cock. Cole and Massimo are off to the side, naked and stroking their own hard cocks.