Chapter 44
Chapter forty-four
PIERCE
I pace the scuffed linoleum like a cartoon alpha, five steps one way, five steps back. The security office walls are closing in. My knuckles throb. I’m pretty sure I didn’t actually break any faces. My punches were all sloppy. Mickey would laugh his ass off.
I put a hand to my chest and try to take a deep breath. But I can’t smell her anymore, and it just feels wrong. Everything feels wrong.
My fucking scent match.
The gut punch is that she isn’t happy about it.
I could have taken the news better myself. Fuck.
She was already thrown off. Probably too many bonehead alphas in one room. My scent. Beckett on the ice.
Fuck. She’s in love with Beckett, isn’t she?
How fucked up is her headspace right now? She was having a panic attack, and they dragged me away from her. They dragged me away from my omega when she needed me most.
Fuck. I fucked this up.
I rake my hands through my hair and pause by the door, pressing my ear against the cold metal. Nothing. Just the distant rumble of the crowd. How long have they kept me locked in here? Fifteen minutes? An hour?
I gotta get out of here. Find her. Make it right.
I touch my nose gingerly. The prick alpha never connected with my nose, thank fuck.
The day is still fucking young, and I could still fucking break it again.
I can finally smell, and now this? The universe has a sick fucking sense of humor.
I spent weeks missing out on Ash’s scent, and now that I know what she is to me, now that I know why I’ve been losing my goddamn mind around her, they’ve locked me away from her.
The fluorescent lights above flicker and buzz like its zapping bugs on the porch in the middle of a Florida summer night. That with roars from the arena sets my teeth on edge.
“Hey!” I shout. “Anyone out there?” I kick the door once for good measure.
Her face keeps flashing through my mind. The panic in her eyes. The way she reached for me as they pulled her away. That’s going to haunt my nightmares.
I’ll just add it to the catalog of images that replay in my mind and pop me out of bed at 3 a.m.
Liam crashing his bike and knocking himself out when he was twelve.
Beckett’s first concussion when he got hit so hard he broke his collarbone and cracked his skull. They had to pull him off the ice on a backboard.
And Reed. His lips going white right before my eyes as blood spilled out of him. And my hands covered in his blood.
Now Ash. Scared and alone.
My fist connects with the wall before I realize I’ve thrown a punch.
Pain shoots up my arm. I shake it off. The metal folding chair in the corner catches my eye.
I grab it, testing its weight. It’s flimsy, cheap arena bullshit, but it might be enough to break the lock if I swing hard enough.
I position myself, calculating the angle, the force needed. The metal is cool in my sweating palms.
I’m about to swing when the door flies open.
Beckett fills the frame, still in his sweat-soaked hockey uniform. His hair is damp, his face flushed, breath coming hard and fast like he ran here straight from the ice. His eyes lock on the chair in my hands, then narrow.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he demands.
I drop the chair with a clatter, relief and dread washing over me in equal measure. “Where is she? Is she okay?”
His jaw tightens. He steps inside, letting the door fall shut behind him with a heavy thud.
“That’s what you’re asking me? After what you just pulled?”
“Is she safe?” I press, moving toward him. “Ash, is she alright? She was having a panic attack when they dragged me out.”
“When they dragged you out for assaulting someone in Alexei’s VIP box?” Beckett’s voice rises. “For hitting an omega? For starting a fucking brawl?”
“I didn’t hit her.” I stop, forcing myself to breathe. “I wasn’t hurting her. She was overwhelmed. The crowd, the noise…”
“That’s not security’s take.”
“Fuck security.”
“Oh, so you didn’t knock out the VP of Marketing for Titan Equipment?”
“He called her cheap,” I growl. “He was hitting on her all night, touching her when she didn’t want it. He deserved worse than what I gave him.”
Beckett moves further into the room, his gear making him appear even larger in the cramped space. He’s blocking the door now, cutting off my only exit.
“You could have handled it differently,” he says, voice lower but no less intense. “You could have gotten security. You could have walked her out calmly. But no, you had to go all feral alpha again, didn’t you?”
The “again” cuts deeper than it should. My hands clench at my sides.
“Where is she?” I ask once more, fighting to keep my voice steady.
“Liam took her home. She was shaking, Pierce. Terrified.”
The thought of Ash frightened twists something in my chest. But the knowledge that she’s with Liam loosens the vise grip around my lungs just a fraction.
“Why are you suddenly all about her? You don’t even like Ash.”
“She’s my scent match.” I don’t mean to say it, the words just came out.
A thousand different emotions flash across Beckett’s face.
“I’ve been seeing her for what, over a month? Almost two? You’ve been a dick to her. I thought you were jealous. You hate when people get close to me. But you’ve been hiding this from me? Lying to me this whole time?”
“I wasn’t hiding…”
He cuts me off and shoves his hands into his hair.
“You know what’s fucked up? What really stings?
I’ve been having all these,” he makes a messy gesture with his hands, “happily ever after dreams. We take our time. You two get to know each other better. Maybe fall in love with her too. And we become a real pack. Get a bigger house. Let Liam go crazy with her nest.”
“You love her.”
Beckett barrels on like he didn’t even hear me.
“You’re her scent match. Best fucking thing I’ve heard in my whole life. Seriously. I should be popping champagne. But hiding it? Lying to me about it. Liam probably knows too, right? You and Liam and all these fucking secrets.”
“I wasn’t lying. My nose…”
“Bullshit,” he cuts me off. “Absolute bullshit, Pierce. You always do this.” His voice raises again. “Something happens and you and Liam just say ‘nothing happened’ or dodge the question. For years, Pierce. Years of half-truths and deflections. You think I’m just a dumb jock who doesn’t notice.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” My voice sounds hollow, even to my own ears.
“Then tell me!” he shouts. “Tell me everything.”
The truth hovers on the tip of my tongue. I could tell him. Right now. I could confess that Reed died because of me. That I ran like a coward while Reed bled out on his living room floor.
But if I tell him, I lose him. I lose everything.
“There’s nothing to tell,” I say finally, the lie so familiar it almost feels like truth.
Something snaps in Beckett’s eyes. Before I can react, he lunges forward and shoves me hard against the wall. My back hits with enough force to knock the wind from my lungs.
“Liar,” he hisses, his face inches from mine, hands fisted in my shirt.
Instinct takes over. I shove back, sending him stumbling into the metal desk. It screeches across the floor, papers scattering.
“Back off,” I warn, stance widening, preparing for what’s coming.
“Make me.” Beckett’s voice is cold, controlled in a way that’s more frightening than his anger. “Tell me the truth or make me back off. Those are your options.”
I see the punch coming and duck, but not quite fast enough.
Beckett is bigger, stronger, and faster, but I’m a fighter.
His fist only just grazes my jaw. I respond on autopilot, driving my shoulder into his midsection, lifting him off his feet.
We crash into the wall together, rattling the framed arena map.
Beckett’s elbow finds my ribs, a sharp jab that forces me to loosen my grip. He twists free. We grapple in the small space, knocking over the chair, sending the desk skidding.
“You selfish piece of shit,” he pants. “All these years, I trusted you.”
“You don’t understand,” I gasp, ducking another wild swing.
“Then make me understand!” he roars, catching me with a hook that snaps my head back.
The door bursts open. Security floods in, four beefy guards in black uniforms. Hands grab me, haul me off Beckett. I struggle against their hold, not ready to be separated, not ready for this confrontation to end unresolved. It’s like if it ends, we end.
“That’s enough!” One guard has his arm around my throat, pulling me back. Another helps Beckett to his feet and dusts him off. “Jesus Christ, what is wrong with you two?”
Beckett’s eyes never leave mine. In them, I see anger, confusion, and worst of all, hurt. The kind of deep hurt that comes from betrayal.
He takes a step toward the door. I struggle against the security guard’s grip on me.
“Beckett! Don’t…”
He turns his back on me and moves through the open door, security and staff skittering out of the way. He gives me the finger over his shoulder.
“I’m going back to work.” And then he’s gone.
I rip myself free of the guard who gives me a little push for good measure. I straighten my shirt and crack my neck.
Carmen Montenegro, head of security for the arena, walks in cool as a cucumber. He has a finger to his ear, probably listening to radio chatter.
“Pierce,” he says cheerily, extending his hand.
“Carmen.” I wipe my hand on the thigh of my jeans before taking his.
“I can’t ban you. Packmates of the team have priority access to the arena at all times. But we are going to escort you off property for the night. I got a car waiting for you.”
“That’s fair.” I shrug.
Carmen nods and gestures me into the hallway.
“How pissed is Volkov?” I ask.
“Oh, not at all. He thought it was a blast. Said to tell you to come apologize with a bottle of vodka. The good stuff. And get something nice for Sandra.”
Yeah, right. My life just fell apart, and Alexei is going to want to yuk it up over drinks. Fucker.
Carmen pushes open a do-not-exit exit door. Nashville is warming up, but the night air is cold, and it slaps me in the face.
I breathe deep. I can smell popcorn burning somewhere. But not a single hint of peach.