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Chapter thirty-three

Callan

I throw myself up out of the seat the second the image of Raider being thrown forward into the ice shows on the big screen. I watch as he slams into the ice hard and face first. His leg is at a weird angle, but I can’t see, I can’t tell. The team gets to him quickly, blocking the view.

“Raider,” I whisper his name, desperately afraid for him.

Wren is there, but he’s standing back. He’s not with Raider, and another surge of fear goes through me. Raider wasn’t right. The bonds between us have been kept closed for years, but I could feel it leaking through. His yearning and fear, the guilt and shame.

It was a toxic concoction.

He was distracted worrying about Wren and Ryann.

Fear ricochets between me, Kit, and Ryann. I can’t see him. The crowd is standing, blocking the view, and the team is blocking the cameras.

Fuck this, I have to go to him. I slide sideways, leaving my seat, only to remember why I can’t. The man behind me growls something, but I ignore him, my eyes on Ryann and Kit.

“I-”

“Go!” Ryann says.

“Go, Callan. We’ll stay here,” Kit says, but his face is pale. “Call if you find out anything, and we’ll let you know what we see.”

“I love you both,” I say quickly, and before I can see their reactions, I turn and go as fast as I can, racing up the stairs and through the thick crowds .

Security tries to stop me from getting in the team rooms, but I flash the pass that coach gave me and slip past while the big guy is still mulling it over.

Fuck. How could this happen? Raider is so good at what he does. He doesn’t fall. Not like that.

I shove my way through people standing around when someone turns, and I realise he’s got a camera. Another turns, and a phone is shoved at my face. I hear my name over and over.

“Callan James? Did you know about Raider sleeping with the actress?”

What. The. Fuck?

“Can you confirm that Raider fell due to a distraction from being caught sleeping with Isla Bellann?”

Who?

“What are you talking about?” I mutter and blink rapidly at the flashes of light in my face. More and more people shove, trying to get closer.

I step backward, one hesitant slide of my foot.

“Did you know?” Another reporter shouts.

“Know what? Raider didn’t do it,” I snap. “He wouldn’t.”

“Does Raider feel guilty? Does he regret his actions?”

“Does Charles Raines know what his son did?”

“What about Kelly? Will Kelly come back after this season?”

“Who’s taking over Alpha Labels?”

“Where did you meet?”

“Tell us about Kit. Did he sleep with the actress, too?”

I snarl at them, but they keep asking questions, driving them like weapons into me. I’m blinded and surrounded. The questions come thick and fast, confusing me. They ask outrageous things and insinuate the most awful things about the Raines family. They malign his mother, my father, and Kit's entire family. I open my mouth to tell them to stop, to get them to shut up so I can think for just one second, but nothing comes out.

“Does Wren Turner know he was cheated on? Is that why he isn’t talking to Raider tonight?”

“How does Wren feel about being traded?”

I snap my head to the person who asked that question. “What?”

“Wren Turner has been traded back to his home team, the Hornets. Is it because of the infidelity of Pack Raines?”

“Mogel!” I snarl. “We’re Pack Mogel.”

My answers send them spinning into a frenzy of questions that all blur together. Raider is hurt. Wren is being traded. I can’t hear anything. I can’t see .

I’m in the locker, banging on it in the dark, screaming at Kit’s screams. They open it and pull me out. So many of them, I fight, but it’s easy to overpower me. I’m helpless in their arms as Freddie unzips his pants.

I go feral.

I get free and hit Freddie hard enough to send him flying into the lockers. He leans on it, stunned. One second passes, two, and then he comes for me.

“Hold him, boys. Let’s teach James a lesson.” Freddie’s eyes gleam. “Oh, I know what we can do. Lloyd, Web, grab the little omega cunt. Hold his arm out.”

My eyes widen as Freddie smirks at me. He gets up on the wooden seat. Kit’s small arm is being held over a gap. It suddenly makes horrible, horrible sense.

“No! Freddie! Stop! Do it to me. Leave him. I did it! Please!” I scream, I beg, I plead.

He stands there listening to it all, and then, when I think he might listen; he jumps.

Kit’s scream and mine blend together. I fight until I can’t lift my arms, but I can’t get to Kit until we’re both left lying in piss on the locker room floor.

That fear and rage rises again, and I shove someone away from me.

“Get back! Just fuck off!”

I’m trapped in that familiar world. Yelling soundlessly into a crowd of people. Trying to get them to stop hurting everyone I care about. I can’t stop them.

I can’t shut them up.

No one hears me.

I’m voiceless.

I step back, and then back again. Silently retreating under the weight of the mass of angry people.