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Hayden Pike didn’t know a lot about alphas and omegas. He had the broad strokes down. Most everyone did, thanks to mandatory secondary gender and health classes growing up. He knew a bit more about omegas, because of his wife, but she had never been a stereotype and mostly liked to keep it to herself outside of her heats. Hayden could admit that he needed to learn more for her. The topic was just… a little awkward for a beta like him. The other secondary genders could get so touchy about the topic. However, after the events of that catastrophic game against Boston, he endeavored to ask his wife more questions about it. Just in hopes to avoid a similar situation.
Even if he did know a lot about alphas and omegas, he thought he could be forgiven for not noticing the signs before it was too late. It was kind of a unique situation. And, in his defense, nobody else caught it either.
Hindsight is a bitch, though.
He just figured Shane was wearing a new cologne, even if he’d been too embarrassed to admit to it. He’d been glued to his phone in the way that meant he was talking to Boston Lily. Hayden had wondered if they were getting serious. They had to be, if Shane was willing to wear cologne. He was going to ask if he’d ever get to meet her, but he decided to wait until after the game. Shane seemed particularly testy that day.
Shane looked a little feverish, his skin was flushed and there was a light sheen of sweat covering his skin even before stepping on the ice. Hayden wanted to admonish his friend for pushing himself too hard. Shane had a tendency to play through illness, a bad habit all of them partook in, but something about seeing Shane looking so vulnerable made the hairs on the back of Hayden’s neck stand up.
He wasn’t the only one who noticed. When Shane grumbled to himself about the stench in the locker room before roughly tugging on his jersey and walking out, JJ came up next to Hayden with a concerned look, his eyes following their captain.
“Something off with him, yeah?” JJ asked, nodding in the direction Shane had just retreated. Hayden shrugged with a sigh.
“Looks like he might be coming down with something. You know how he is, though. He’d never admit it.”
JJ’s jaw ticked.
“We should keep an extra eye on him. My alpha doesn’t like seeing him all weak like that. Makes my teeth hurt.” Hayden side-eyed him and raised a brow.
“More weird alpha bullshit? He’s a beta, don’t your instincts only care about, like, helpless omegas or whatever?”
Comeau appeared behind him from out of nowhere and aggressively ruffled his hair. “Aww, don’t feel left out, Hades. Don’t you know you guys are part of our pack? You’re under our protection just like a cute little omega,” he laughed obnoxiously at Hayden’s answering scowl.
“Dude. Ew. That’s so corny.” He ducked out from under Comeau’s hand and went to leave the locker room, ignoring JJ and Comeau’s laughter.
***
The game started normally enough. The crowd was huge and deafening, like it usually was during a game against Boston. Rozanov did his usual annoying chirping, although it seemed to get under everyone’s skin a lot more than usual. They were able to get a goal within the first period, the entire arena shaking with the sound of celebrating fans.
Things quickly went downhill from there. It became increasingly obvious that something was wrong with Shane. Like, seriously wrong. He’d played while sick before, but this time it was like his entire body and brain had been dipped in a jar of honey, his movements and reaction timing were the slowest they’d ever seen from him.
The ice was slowly being permeated with a sticky sweet scent that even set Hayden and the other betas on edge. The alphas were almost a lost cause. Their aggression amped up to a degree Hayden didn’t think he’d ever seen before. At least not during a hockey game. And that was saying something, all things considered. Both teams were spending more time in the penalty box than they had in any other game that season so far.
The frustration became palpable. Hayden found himself yelling at his own teammates to get their heads out of their asses more than once. He even called Drapeau a knothead to his face after he got into a fight with one of Boston’s players for checking Shane against the boards too hard. It was a perfectly legal check, if a little harder than necessary, and now they had one more player in the penalty box for it.
He and JJ ended up being Shane’s shadows. For some reason, both of their instincts were dictating they keep him out of harm's way as much as possible. It was a silent agreement between the two players after they’d fended off another unnecessarily aggressive attempt to check Shane. A laughable idea considering the sport they were playing—not to mention they weren’t supposed to be playing defense anyway—and even more mystifying considering Hayden’s instincts were barely ever triggered. It usually only happened with Jackie. That probably should have been a sign, but Hayden wasn’t known for his smarts. He could admit that about himself.
Coach Theriault was red in the face by the time they were nearing the end of the second period. He was being especially hard on Shane, and it even got to the point where one of the benched betas interrupted his yelling to ask him to go easy on their captain. Theriault was a hardass on the best of days, but his anger towards Shane was leaving everyone particularly jittery and irritable.
Theriault just scoffed and pushed a very dazed and totally not-all-there Shane towards center ice for a faceoff against Rozanov. He heard several disgruntled growls from his alpha teammates. He couldn’t blame them. Rozanov was such a grade-A asshole. Seeing Shane, who clearly needed to be benched (or better yet, on his way to a hospital), slowly skating towards Rozanov felt akin to watching a lamb go to slaughter.
Hayden wasn’t prepared for quickly it all went to shit. Shane bent down to meet Rozanov for the faceoff, then froze with a horrified expression that, under a different circumstance, would have been hilarious. It must have only been less than a minute for the scent to hit him like a tidal wave, but it felt like it took a century for his brain to catch up. Everyone else on the ice froze too, only seconds before it hit Hayden and everyone at the benches.
The undeniable sticky sweet scent of an omega in heat flooded Hayden’s nose. Then he quickly registered the viscous fluid rapidly soaking Shane’s legs, and two things became startlingly clear. One: Shane was an omega. Two: He was going into heat. On center ice. In the middle of a game. He could barely get his very astute observation out into the deathly still silence before every alpha within the vicinity was violently clambering over each other to get to Shane.
Shane had collapsed onto his hands and knees, and even from this distance, Hayden could see the way he’s panting heavily. Rozanov still hadn’t moved, an equally horrified look on his face (that would also look hilarious in different circumstances). Hayden tried yelling to get Shane’s attention, but he seemed to be locked onto Rozanov. Panic seized Hayden, his throat clicking as he swallowed nervously. That can’t be good.
Everyone had jumped the bench at this point, the betas moving quickly to help the mated alphas fend off the other alphas being sent into rut. Hayden barely registered the announcement ringing throughout the arena calling for an evacuation. Thank god for that. Shane wasn’t able to control his scent and it was being thrown out in wild, wide arcs across the ice. It must have been reaching far, in search of an alpha to relieve the heat creeping in, because some of the audience members close to the ice looked like they were ready to try and smash the plexiglass to reach Shane.
The alphas on the ice were worse off by miles. He spotted JJ viciously trying to fight off a group of alphas, eyes flashing red and locked onto Shane. His fangs were already descended, dripping venom down his chin and all over the ice, sending the other alphas around him into an even worse territorial frenzy.
The amount of pheromones flooding the air was enough to choke on. Hayden had to cover his nose just to feel like he could breathe. There were already several bloody noses and probably some missing teeth by the looks of it. Clumps of bodies slid around the ice haphazardly as everyone scrambled to fight. Boston and Montreal jerseys mixed together until it was hard to make out who was who. It looked like a battlefield, rather than a bunch of hockey players in an ice rink.
Some of the alphas were able to get wrangled until they were held down by several other bodies. Others looked like they weren’t sure what to focus on more, fighting the alphas in their way or just trying to shoot straight for Shane.
The poor omega didn’t seem to be faring any better. The wild spray of alpha pheromones had Shane’s entire bottom half soaked through with slick, and it looked like he was giving Rozanov a hard time. The alpha had his wrists in his hands, both of them somehow already missing their gloves and helmets, and was looking at Shane imploringly. Rozanov looked like he was a hair's breadth away from losing control himself. The fact he was right in front of Shane and not already on top of him was a damn miracle in itself.
The medical team were quick to react, coming up beside Hayden where he stood frozen by the bench. They yelled something about getting to Shane and bringing him to the tunnel. Hayden belatedly realized they were addressing him when he was being nudged towards the newly presented omega. He slid forward hesitantly, but quickly backed away when he got too close to a snarling group of alphas, all of whom bared their fangs at him.
He took a deep breath and tried again, carefully picking his way across the ice to avoid getting too close to any of the alphas. He looked back up towards Shane and grimaced. Oh god, now he’s stripping off his gear. When he’s down to his compression shirt, skates discarded and sliding across the ice, it looks like he lets out a huge sigh of relief. He moves as if to bend back down on the ice, which would basically put him in a presenting position (with surely catastrophic consequences), but his wrists are caught by an increasingly panicked looking Rozanov.
And was Shane… pouting? Hayden didn’t think he’d ever seen his friend look so petulant. Everyone knew Shane was attractive. The hottest man in hockey, according to Cosmopolitan. Pretty, even. As much as they gave Shane grief for it, Hayden would be stupid not to acknowledge it. But they way Shane was looking up at Rozanov right now, eyes wide and shining with tears… If Shane Hollander were a sluttier man, he could really use his powers for evil. He looked, for lack of a better word, incredibly fuckable, and the alphas on the ice could see it, too.
And then—as if to prove Hayden’s point—Shane lets out a loud whine and bent backwards, arching his back in a truly sinful manner. Hayden stopped in his tracks at the sight. Rozanov was still holding his wrists, looking like he was practically pleading Shane to sit back up. Hayden had to agree with the sentiment.
Shane looked completely out of it. If the wide, toothy smile he flashed JJ wasn’t proof enough, the way he was wiggling his hips and letting out loud little keens sure was. If Hayden hadn’t been seeing it with his own eyes, he would never believe Shane was capable of making those sounds, moving his body like that, making those faces. The best word Hayden could think of to describe it was needy.
“Holy shit,” a rough voice sounded next to Hayden. He glanced over and saw Marleau, one of Boston’s alphas and alternate captain—who looked like he was barely staving off a rut—holding back one of his own rookies. The kid looked halfway feral already, his fangs bared and eyes locked on Shane. The older alpha was also zeroed in on Shane, and he almost lost his grip on the rookie as his pupils began to dilate.
“That’s just unfair. Fuck. Look at that pretty fucking face,” Marleau growled, his teeth grinding like it took all his effort to stay still. It probably did. It didn’t look like the rookie was all there, barely able to string any words together besides a choked “Omega. Need to—“
Marleau cut him off by whipping him into a headlock.
The smell of Shane’s distress sharpened, and with it, the chorus of growls and fighting rose to something deafening. Although that might have just been the blood rushing to Hayden’s ears in panic.
He snapped his head back towards Shane, just in time to see Rozanov finally force him back upright with a hand around Shane’s throat. The scent of distressed omega lessened. Unfortunately, the scent of Shane’s heat exploded across the ice, somehow impossibly more intense than before, as one of the most obscene moans ripped out of Shane’s lips.
Shane’s heady pheromones flooded Hayden’s nose and left his brain foggy. He blinked and slowed to a stop, momentarily mesmerized by the scene in front of him.
Shane’s chest rose and fell in heavy pants, face flushed and shining with sweat. His swollen lips glistened with the silvery sheen of mating venom. His tongue poked out to lick some of it up as it began dripping down his chin, and he heard Rozanov groan at the sight. Shane’s eyes were blown wide and glassy. Throaty whines accompanied the pout he leveled at Rozanov. His scent was sweet like lemonade, to the point it was almost nauseating, but it was cut through with spicy ginger. Hayden tried not to think about how mouthwatering it was.
Shane sat there on the ice, knees spread wide beneath his slick soaked body, and landed one more devastating blow to everyone’s control when he moaned a single word, dark eyes never leaving Rozanov.
“Alpha.”
It was a plea as much as it was an invitation. Rozanov looked like he stopped breathing, his entire body going rigid. Hayden could see a slight tremor in the alpha’s legs, like he was being knocked unsteady by the full force of Shane in heat. Hayden couldn’t blame him. As much as he disliked the asshole, he had to give Rozanov credit for the incredible amount of control and restraint he was showing.
Sudden growling and a spray of alpha aggression tore Hayden’s attention to where Marleau and the rookie began fighting each other tooth and nail to reach Shane, Marleau finally snapping and falling into a rut. Their scents spiked, fighting for dominance and suffocating the air around them. Thankfully, their reckless momentum sent them skidding across the ice away from Shane and Rozanov.
One of the medic's voices, ringing out clear and steady, finally snapped Hayden out of his stupor. They were yelling instructions to Rozanov and looking at Hayden pointedly, gesturing for him to keep going. Right. He was on a mission.
He carefully picked his way across the ice. Dodging rampaging alphas and frantic betas left and right. Shouts, growls, and the scuffling sounds of fighting filled the air to the point of chaos. Hayden could barely hear his own thoughts. The crowds had been quickly funneled out by then, but he almost couldn’t tell with how loud his ears were ringing.
The scents of the alpha’s pheromones suddenly exploded with arousal. Hayden had been looking straight ahead to avoid getting distracted by Shane’s displays—and to be respectful and try to give his friend some sense of dignity—but his eyes moved unbidden towards the omega when he smelled the shift.
Jesus fucking Christ. He’s going to kill us all.
Shane was on all fours, slinking towards Rozanov like a panther stalking its prey. His back was stuck in an arch, and his hips swayed with every lurch forward. His ass was unreal, every curve accentuated by the slick covered material of his uniform sticking to him like a second skin. Hayden wished he could forget the knowledge that Shane fucking Hollander was able to move his body like that, but he feared the image might be stuck in his head forever.
His face was… Hayden couldn’t bear to look at Shane’s face for more than a few seconds. It felt too obscene. His expression looked like something straight out of a porno. And it seemed like too vulnerable of a thing for Hayden to be looking at.
It felt like it took forever, and Hayden thought the journey might have taken a few years off his life, but the distance between Hayden and Shane was finally closing.
He pretended not to hear Rozanov’s throaty, “Good boy. Keep coming,” as he coaxed Shane closer to the tunnel.
Hayden approached and noticed Comeau, held down by two of Boston’s alphas, growled something low and leering at Shane. Whatever he said to Shane had the omega’s scent souring, but it was quickly replaced by something syrupy sweet when Rozanov bared his fangs and cowed Comeau into submission. The rapid oscillating of Shane’s scent made Hayden dizzy. He couldn’t imagine how the alphas felt. Their instincts must have been screaming at them, thrown all out of whack by the wild switches in emotion falling off of Shane in waves.
When Hayden finally reached Shane, making sure to keep a wide berth around the still growling Rozanov, he felt a sharp stab of sympathy for his friend. The poor guy was miserable and painfully horny. He knew heats could really suck for an omega left unsatisfied. Jackie’s heats could get pretty intense, and her instincts would completely take over until she was more animal than human. She’d learned how to handle it, and it got easier to manage, but this was Shane’s first time.
“Oh god, what a mess. Don’t worry Shaney, we'll get you outta here and somewhere safe.” He tried to sound reassuring as he reached his hands toward Shane, hoping his much lighter scent will help calm Shane down.
Instead, Shane’s blown out eyes narrowed when they landed on Hayden and his lips pulled back to flash his fangs in a snarl. It’s such an unnatural look on Shane that Hayden freezed in pure confusion.
Shane managed to scramble up from the ice and latch himself onto Rozanov, his arms and legs wrapping around the alpha like a vice. Shane was hissing at Hayden, and he realized Shane had positioned himself to be fully in between Rozanov and Hayden. As if Rozanov was the one in need of protection.
“No! Mine,” Shane spat at him.
Hayden put his hands up in surrender. He felt like his brain was melting out of his skull. The intensity of the pheromones flying around were giving him a headache, the cloying scent of an omega in heat was making him have sexually confusing thoughts about his best friend, and now said best friend was clinging onto the league’s biggest asshole like he was the most precious thing in the world. Hayden just wanted to go home.
“This shit is so weird. Fucking alpha omega bullshit,” he complained. Ilya only glared at him over Shane’s shoulder. Hayden sighed warily and waved a hand at Shane, who now occupied himself by burying his face in Rozanov’s neck and huffing his scent like it was a drug.
“Well at least you can carry him off, now. Since he seems pretty set on climbing you like a tree.” He cringed as soon as the words left his mouth.
“Ew.”
Rozanov rolled his eyes—red starting to bleed into the edges of his irises—with a grunt and started to slowly skate towards the tunnel, carefully balancing all of Shane’s weight in his arms. Hayden led them at first, but when he saw the path was now (thankfully) mostly clear, he fell back just enough to keep an eye on the alpha. He wanted to make sure Rozanov didn’t try anything funny.
That idea didn’t last long, though. Shane met his gaze over Rozanov’s shoulder with a growl. His eyes blazed with something possessive and territorial as he—while maintaining direct eye contact, as if in challenge—tore the scent patch of Rozanov’s neck with his teeth and licked a long stripe over his mating gland. Hayden was going to need a tall, stiff drink after this.
Rozanov faltered and stifled a moan. Hayden wondered if there was a ‘bleach in the eyes’ equivalent for his ears. Maybe he’d use the bleach, too. Rozanov’s shoulders rose and fell as he took several deep breaths to steady himself. After a few moments, Ilya began moving again, and Shane was happy to lose himself in Rozanov’s neck.
It was when Hayden noticed the way Shane writhed against Rozanov that he took his cue to just look away. If Shane’s broken panting was anything to go by, Hayden knew exactly what was happening between the two athlete’s bodies. He’d already seen too much today, he didn’t need to add the image of Shane desperately humping his arch rival to the list. Hayden decided to monitor the alphas being held down on the ice, some already being taken away by medical staff down the tunnel, including poor JJ. Although they started clearing the way as soon as they approached with Shane.
The moment Rozanov’s feet left the ice, he and Shane were surrounded by medics, several voices yelling out a bunch of stuff about separating them, heat symptoms, and sedation. Hayden was too focused on reaching for Shane to help the medical staff pull him off Rozanov to pay much attention to what they were saying.
Because nothing could be easy, Shane was hell bent on gluing himself to Rozanov, hissing and gnashing his fangs at the hands trying to get a hold on him. Rozanov wasn’t faring any better, his grip on Shane looked bruising with how tightly he held onto him. His control was finally starting to slip. Rozanov growled at a Bears medic, eyes flashing red and dangerous. It was fucking chaos.
Hayden tried to plead with Shane, opening his mouth to call out his name over the cacophony of shouting. He didn’t even get a chance to say a single word when Shane growled menacingly and said, deathly serious, “Mine.”
A few people caught on to what he was going to do, their shouts growing frantic, but they couldn’t react in time. All Hayden saw was a flash of teeth, shining with venom, and then Shane was biting into Rozanov’s neck so hard that blood pooled and dripped steadily down onto his uniform.
Shane was biting Rozanov. On his neck. Right where his scent gland was. His mating gland. Shane just claimed and mated Ilya fucking Rozanov right in front of everyone.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Hayden’s thoughts raced in pure panic.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” One of the medics next to him yelled. Well, at least he wasn’t the only one losing their shit.
Rozanov’s eyes went wide, his irises instantly burning a terrifying red. He shouted and gritted his teeth as his fangs descended into sharp points and his mouth flooded with venom. Everyone surged forward. Rozanov was faster.
Within one blink and the next, Rozanov had Shane pinned to the wall with his entire body and bit down hard on Shane’s gland, sealing their bond. Shane’s mouth was ripped off of Rozanov’s neck when he was slammed into the wall. Blood and venom smeared across his lips and chin. Hayden got an, unfortunately, very clear view of Shane throwing his head back with a filthy moan as Rozanov growled and bit down harder. Like he was trying to make sure the bond really stuck.
Hayden watched in dazed horror as both teams’ medics rushed past him to sedate the newly mated pair. His feet felt glued to the ground. He tried to look away. He wanted to look away. Instead, his rebellious eyes were locked onto the sight of bloodsmeared Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov, famous rivals, crushing their mouths together with an almost violent fervor. Their tongues slid against each other with practiced ease, like they’d done it a thousand times before. They were tearing at each other’s clothes, and if Hayden dared to glance only a little further down, he knew he’d see Rozanov’s hips rutting into Shane.
Hayden could distantly hear Theriault yelling something next to him. He might have been telling Hayden to do something, but what the hell could he possibly do to make this situation better? Shane and Rozanov barely spared anyone else a glance, their eyes locked on each other and their hands only leaving their bodies to shove and claw intruders away. Someone finally wisened up and took advantage of their complete and total focus on each other to stab a syringe in Rozanov’s back. It was quickly followed by another syringe stuck into one of Shane’s hands where he had a death grip on Rozanov’s shoulder.
It only took seconds before both men were slumping against the wall. Hayden scrubbed a hand over his face, bone-tired and weary. And freaked the fuck out.
“Fuck.”
***
The locker room after that game had been… rough. The betas and alphas that managed to avoid being hauled off in ambulances—either for injury or for triggered ruts—had shuffled into the locker room and gathered their things in tense silence. The scent of aggressive and aroused alpha pheromones still hung heavy in the air, and the scent of Shane in heat was even more suffocating, sticking to every surface and following them into the room like a ghost.
Everyone was uncomfortably horny and on edge. Which was why, for probably the first time in his career, Hayden snapped and yelled at his teammates when they decided to start running their mouths.
“This is why omegas shouldn’t be playing in the same league as the rest of us,” someone muttered, finally breaking the heavy silence. Hayden looked up, already irritated, but couldn’t catch who said it. His heart sank when there were several grunts of agreement.
“Who knew Hollzy had it in him, though,” one of the rookies said a little too appreciatively.
“What? You got a crush now?” That was Drapeau, who was one of the lucky few unmated alphas that were able to fight off their rut. He still looked like he was fighting off the aggression, his face red and pupils far too dilated for Hayden’s liking.
“I mean, did you see him? He basically went feral. Totally begging for it,” the rookie replied. Hayden tried to change faster, just so he could get out of the suffocating scents still being tossed around so recklessly.
“Yeah. So desperate for it he bit fucking Rozanov. Basically started fucking him right on the ice,” Drapeau spit out.
“Are all omegas like that? Maybe I need to finally get me one,” another rookie admitted.
“During their heat, sure. But then they get so fucking clingy,” one of the other alphas complained.
Hayden finally got the last of his gear off and slammed it down on the bench. The conversation stopped short and everyone looked at him in surprise.
“Jesus Christ! Would you all just shut the fuck up and go home? This is still Shane you’re talking about. Our fucking captain. Or did you forget that?” He moved to stomp towards the showers, desperate for the conversation to be over and to get back to the familiar and comforting scent of his family.
Drapeau, clearly still high on pheromones, only scoffed and puffed up his chest. Stupid fucking alpha posturing.
“Think if you kiss his ass enough he’ll invite you into his nest? You might have a chance. Clearly his standards are low.”
Hayden whirled around and imagined setting Drapeau on fire with his glare. Unfortunately, it didn’t work. Can’t blame a man for trying.
“And yet, you’re still here. So clearly he has more than enough self respect.”
Several of the guys laughed and jeered, treating the exchange like it was just another round of harmless chirping. These assholes couldn’t take anything seriously. He turned back around and headed to the showers, not bothering to wait for a response from the very red-faced Drapeau.
***
The MHL must have had a lot of money. Well, of course it did. But the league had to have spent a lot of money to keep the narrative about that cluster fuck of a game squarely in their corner. At least officially. Press releases, an expertly cut live feed, reporters given just the right amount of information, sports broadcasters using vague language and carefully dancing around the obvious. Whoever ran crisis management for the league better be getting paid well.
If it had been anyone else other than Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov at the center of it all, the league would have probably already found a way to quietly and carefully wash their hands of the players. But the MHL can’t very well lose their two biggest stars. Their two biggest star players that were now mated to each other.
Hayden PIke wasn’t really sure what to make of the whole thing. At first, the only thoughts he could form were holy shit, oh my god, holy fucking shit, what the fuck? But those weren’t very helpful thoughts and he wasn’t allowed to swear out loud at home, so he had to find something else for his brain to latch on to.
Initially, he thought about how worried he was for Shane. It must have been terrifying to present as an omega so late and so publicly, not to mention in the middle of a hockey game surrounded by idiotic alphas. Then he spiraled thinking about Shane being stuck in a heat center with Rozanov of all people. Then he made himself flustered thinking about Shane in heat because if he was anything like he was at the arena, Hayden might actually be more concerned for Rozanov’s well-being. He’s pretty sure Shane’s feral face, flushed and mouth smeared with blood, as he moaned Rozanov’s name would be burned into his retinas forever. He needed to stop thinking about that and quickly. It’s not like he could call in and check on Shane. Management didn’t even tell Hayden which heat center they’d been taken to.
Unfortunately, that led him to scouring the internet to see what the sports outlets, journalists, and random Reddit accounts were saying about the game. It’s not like he could not think about it one way or another. Jackie tried suggesting he do something to take his mind off everything, but how on earth could he get his mind off his best friend presenting as an omega and immediately biting a chunk out of the guy he supposedly hated more than anyone.
The people of the internet were pretty divided over accepting the league’s explanation of “faulty scent patch usage.” Some tabloids were already running with several different stories ranging from alphas going fully feral to Shane taking illegal heat mimic drugs to gain an advantage. As if that made any sense.
It was mostly hearsay until people started posting videos and photos. Then the internet sleuths got on the case and things were getting zoomed in and circled in red. The debate evolved into something different. Was Shane Hollander injured because he got caught in the crossfire, or did he actually present as an omega and cause the whole thing himself?
Hayden felt a wave of sympathy for Shane. He was going to face levels of public scrutiny like never before, and he was already so uncomfortable facing the press. Shane did it because he had to, and he’d learned to do it well, but Hayden knew the publicity that came with his fame was the worst part of Shane’s job.
Shane wouldn’t get a second to breathe, and it was even worse considering he just presented. He’d have no time to adjust before he would be expected to step up and fix this mess, even though it wasn’t his fault. It’s not like it was something in his control. Shane would need all the support he could get.
Guilt sank deep in his gut, twisting around in his stomach like a snake. Shane would need support, and as much as Hayden wanted to believe the team would be there for him, he knew that wouldn’t be the case. At this point, all he could do was hope that Shane was okay.