Coach stares at me for a long moment, then drops into his chair with a heavy sigh. "Cancel practice. And the press conference. I'm not parading what's left of this team in front of cameras today."
I don't argue. Just nod and turn to leave.
"Belmont."
I pause at the door.
"Get your house in order. Whatever's going on with Wraith… fix it. Before this team implodes."
I don't bother responding. Just walk out, letting the glass door swing shut behind me.
My knuckles are raw from punching walls. My brother won't answer my texts. And somewhere in those tunnels, there's a secret he’s protecting with his life.
I'm going to find out what it is.
Chapter
Seventeen
PLAGUE
"You think she's real," Whiskey says. Not a question.
We're huddled in an empty conference room, door locked, voices low. The rest of the pack is scattered and we took the opportunity to speak alone. Valek is at the hospital, Thane is off somewhere dealing with management again, Wraith is still missing after vanishing to god knows where.
"I think Valek stumbled upon something he shouldn't have," I reply. "SomeoneWraith is protecting."
"The omega from the dreams."
"The one with honeysuckle scent. Yes."
Whiskey's knee bounces, restless energy radiating off him. "So what's the play?"
"We find her ourselves. Starting with where Valek encountered her."
"The tunnels." He's already on his feet. "Let's go."
The maintenance tunnels are everything I despise—damp, dim, and crawling with bacteria I don't want to think about. But Whiskey navigates them effortlessly, and I need answers more than I need comfort.
He stops abruptly, raising a hand to stop me in my tracks. I slam into him from behind, but he doesn't even seem to notice, pointing instead to a dark stain on the concrete floor.
"Blood."
I step closer, examining the smear. It's relatively fresh. Dark red rather than brown, still slightly tacky where I carefully touch it with the tip of my shoe.
The hallway shows clear signs of disturbance. A fire extinguisher lays on its side on the floor. Chunks of drywall litter the floor where someone has punched holes into the concrete behind it. The damage forms a pattern consistent with a violent struggle. Two alphas, fighting in close quarters.
“This is where it happened.”
“Yeah. For fuckin’ sure.” Whiskey picks up the fire extinguisher, examining the slightly dented metal cylinder. "This isn't Wraith's style."
"No," I agree. "Wraith uses his fists, not weapons."
"So who caved in Valek's skull?"
A wry smile tugs at my lips. “Perhaps our mystery omega is less helpless than we assumed.”
Whiskey's eyes widen slightly. "You thinksheknocked him out?"
