Pucking Betrayal

KIERAN’S POV

I chugged down the amber liquid, the harsh sting searing all the way down my throat before I slammed the heavy glass jug onto the scarred wooden table. My eyes watering, I forced myself to swallow the burning mouthful, gritting my teeth against the bitter aftertaste. I had to maintain the illusion, to prove to the rest of the team that I was untouchable, that they hadn't made a fatal mistake when they voted me in as captain.

Closing my eyes for a fraction of a second, I felt the dull, throbbing pulse behind my temples. Alcohol was poison to my unstable system, an unnecessary risk when my body was already fighting its own silent war. I only had one life, defective as it was, and pouring fuel on the fire wasn't going to prolong it.

"Hey, a toast to the best fucking captain in the league!" Adrian bellowed from across the room, thrusting his plastic cup into the air with a wide, drunken grin.

A loud, rowdy chorus of cheers erupted around the green felt of the pool table. I turned toward them, forcing my lips to curl upward into a smooth, easy smile as I soaked in their applause. They saw a rock, a relentless leader capable of carrying them to a championship.

They had no idea their fearless captain had a ticking clock hanging directly over his head.

I was a defective Alpha, with a severe disease called Phenomocytes. Where other Alphas projected terrifying, dominant scents that could command a room, my system produced something revolting. A thick, foul stench, the distinct, rotting perfume of a corpse halfway in the grave. Worse yet, the condition kept my body locked in a perpetual, agonizing heat, forcing me to rely on high-grade suppressors just to stand near other people without triggering their disgust.

"Cheers to the next match, and cheers to crushing the Ice Kings!" Kay grunted, clinking his cup against Adrian's as another roar echoed through the crowded den.

They were flying high, oblivious and triumphant. I tried to anchor myself to their enthusiasm, but my temporary smile flickered and died. Watching them laugh, a cold hollow settled deep in my chest. They didn't know I had only a few years left to live, or that my pockets were permanently stuffed with heavy prescription suppressors to keep my sickening scent contained.

"Why are you slumping over here by yourself?" Taylor asked, sauntering down the dim staircase. He held two fresh bottles of beer by their necks, his long blonde hair falling loosely across his forehead.

"What are you talking about?" I muttered, my brow furrowing as I reached for another jar on the counter. I downed a heavy gulp before glancing up to meet his sharp green eyes.

"I just passed by your girl upstairs," Taylor said, wiggling his eyebrows with a roguish grin. "Shouldn't you be up there keeping her company? Maybe taking care of her business?"

I leaned back against the edge of the table, my expression darkening. "No, you didn't. Layla isn't here."

"Man, I know Layla," Taylor countered, his smile fading into a slight crease on his forehead. "I'm telling you, it was her."

"It wasn't her," I snapped, shaking my head firmly. "Layla hates places like this. She doesn't do loud parties, she doesn't do bars, and she definitely doesn't do seed-driven party houses. I tried getting her to come out with me weeks ago, and she shut me down because she needed to study for her finals, finals that are still five months away. She's at home with her head buried in a textbook."

"Look, man, believe what you want," Taylor shrugged, shifting his weight. "But I caught her perfume. You know my nose doesn't lie. That sweet, heavy floral mix is unmistakable, and I watched her walk right into one of the private rooms down the hall."

"Taylor! Stop hoarding the alcohol, the team is dying of thirst!" Adrian yelled, snatching one of the bottles straight out of Taylor's hand.

As they clinked their bottles and returned to the game, I slipped my hand into my jeans pocket and pulled out my phone. A cold coil of doubt tightened in my gut. I dialed Layla’s number, pressing the speaker against my ear. It didn't even ring, it went straight to voicemail.

I tried again, the cold plastic digging into my palm. Straight to voicemail.

Lowering the phone, I dragged my hand hard across my face. A unsettling knot formed in the pit of my stomach. I couldn't just sit here letting Taylor's words rot my brain; I needed to go up there, prove him wrong, and kill the suspicion before it took root.

I pushed off the table and headed toward the staircase.

"Hey Captain, where are you taking off to?" Bright called out, tossing a cue ball casually from hand to hand.

"Gotta take a leak, assholes," I grunted, waving a hand dismissively over my shoulder.

A burst of laughter followed me as I took the steps two at a time. The upstairs hallway was dimly lit, lined with closed doors that muffled the bass thumping from the floor below. I walked briskly, my eyes scanning the polished wood frames. Near the far end, one of the doors stood slightly ajar, spilling a thin strip of light onto the carpet.

As I closed the distance, a harsh, unfamiliar voice carried through the crack.

"Take it, you fucking whore. Choke on it, you're getting paid enough for this."

My boots froze against the floorboards. That voice belonged to Mason.

My jaw set hard. “Was he seriously pulling a random hookup weeks before the biggest tournament of the season?” An ugly smirk touched my lips as I took a quiet step forward. I didn't care about his sex life, but catching our star rival in a sloppy position would give me all the leverage I needed.

I reached out, wrapped my fingers tightly around the brass handle, and shoved the door wide open.

"What the fuck is going on in…..” The words died in my throat.

Layla was on her knees on the rug, her hands pinned behind her back as Mason forced her head down onto his bare length. Saliva glistened on her chin, her eyes wide and tear streaked.

The air vanished from my lungs. For a sickening moment, the entire world stopped spinning.

Mason slowly turned his head toward the doorway. His deep brown eyes locked onto mine, and a mocking, cruel smile spread across his face. He didn't stop. He placed his heavy palm on the back of her neck and pushed her down again, completely unbothered by my presence.

A hot burst of rage detonated behind my eyes. “You fucking bastard!" I roared, lunging across the room.

Layla collapsed onto her side with a sharp gasp as I slammed into Mason, grabbing him by his shirt collar and hauling him off the floor. I pulled my right fist back and smashed it violently into his jaw.

His head snapped back with a wet crack. "How dare you hit me, you piece of shit!" he shrieked, his fingers clawing into my collar as he drove his shoulder into my chest.

We crashed into the wall, the drywall cracking behind us. I ignored the dull ache in my spine, driving my elbow into his ribs and throwing another wild, heavy right hook that caught him cleanly across the cheekbone. Mason stumbled back, wiping a smear of blood from his lip with his forearm, his eyes burning with malice.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" Layla cried out, her voice trembling as she scrambled up from the floor and grabbed Mason's arm to pull him back. "Stop it! Stop this!"

"Get the fuck off me, you whore!" Mason snarled, throwing his arm back violently.

The blunt force hit Layla in the chest. She lost her footing, slipping on the hardwood border, and fell backward hard. Her head struck the corner of the heavy wooden nightstand with a sickening thud, and her body went instantly limp on the floor.

"Let go of me! Look at her!" I screamed, frantically trying to tear his fingers off my throat as I stared at Layla's motionless form. My heart pounded furiously against my ribs.

"Why are you begging, huh?" Mason sneered, his grip tightening until the breath whistled in my windpipe. "Where's that dominant Alpha energy now, Captain? You're pathetic!"

With a sudden burst of strength, he hoisted me slightly off my feet and slammed me flat against the wall again. The impact rattled my teeth. I clawed at his hands, my vision turning spotty as oxygen failed to reach my brain.

"Look at the mighty leader trying to save his little girl," Mason taunted, leaning his face inches from mine, his grin dripping with venom.

I glared at him through red-tinted rage, my legs kicking uselessly as I tried to break his hold. Mason leaned closer, his nostrils flaring as he took a deep breath near my neck to assert dominance.

Suddenly, his expression shattered from cruel satisfaction to pure disgust.

He recoiled instantly, snapping his head back and slamming his hand over his nose and mouth, choking back a gag.

"Ugh... what the fuck?!" he wheezed, stumbling backward with wide, horrified eyes. "Why do you smell like a decaying corpse? What the hell is wrong with you?!"