Chapter 7: Knot Happening Again: Chapter 7

The roar of the crowd is deafening, a wall of sound that washes over me as I dance around my opponent. Sweat drips down my face, stinging my eyes, but I don’t dare wipe it away. One moment of distraction is all it takes in this game.

My opponent, a burly alpha from England with a shock of ginger hair and a mean right hook, circles me warily. We’ve been at this for two rounds already, each of us landing solid hits, but neither gaining the upper hand.

I should be focused. I should be in the zone, my mind clear of everything but the fight. But I can’t shake the guilt that’s been gnawing at me since I left home.

I didn’t tell Rhys.

I chickened out, like a fucking coward.

My opponent feints left, and I almost fall for it. I catch myself at the last second, barely avoiding a punch that would have laid me out flat.

‘Focus, Leon!’ Maddox’s voice cuts through the noise of the crowd. I glance over to see him at the edge of the ring, his usually perfectly styled brown hair disheveled from running his hands through it in frustration.

Right.

Focus.

I need to win this fight.

I can deal with my guilt later.

But even as I tell myself that, my mind wanders. What if Rhys finds out before I can tell him? What if the omega they met today is the one, and I’ve ruined any chance the others had at happiness because of my cowardice?

The thought distracts me just long enough for the Englishman to land a solid hit to my jaw. Pain explodes across my face, and I stagger back, tasting blood.

Shit.

The crowd gasps, then roars louder. They smell blood in the water. My opponent grins, sensing victory.

Not today, buddy.

I shake off the hit, forcing myself to focus. No more thoughts of Rhys, or omegas, or my past mistakes. Just me, my opponent, and the next three minutes.

As my opponent comes in for another hit, I duck under his swing and land a solid uppercut to his ribs. He grunts, stumbling back, and I press my advantage.

Left jab, right cross, kick to the thigh. I fall into a rhythm, my body moving on autopilot as years of training take over.

Before I know it, the bell is ringing, and the ref is pulling me off my opponent. The crowd is going wild, chanting my name, but it all feels distant, hollow.

I’ve won, but it doesn’t feel like a victory.

As the ref raises my hand, declaring me the winner, I scan the crowd. Maddox is beaming, already on his phone, no doubt lining up my next fight. The fans are ecstatic, their energy electric.

But all I can think about is how I need to get home and come clean to Rhys before it’s too late.

The post-fight interviews pass in a blur. I give the usual platitudes about respecting my opponent and looking forward to the next challenge, but my heart isn’t in it.

Finally, I escape to the locker room, desperate for a moment of peace.

‘That was a hell of a fight,’ Maddox says, following me in. He’s practically vibrating with excitement, his blue eyes sparkling. ‘You had me worried there for a minute, but damn, you came back strong in that last half!’

I grunt in response, peeling off my gloves and tossing them aside. Maddox hands me a towel, which I use to wipe the sweat and blood from my face.

‘You okay, champ?’ he asks, his excitement dimming slightly as he takes in my mood. ‘You seemed… off out there.’

I sigh, sinking onto a bench. ‘I’m fine, Mads. Just tired.’

He doesn’t look convinced. Maddox has been with me long enough to know when something’s up. He’s more than just my manager; he’s pack, family. The thought makes the guilt twist even deeper in my gut.

I take a moment to really look at him, to ground myself in the familiar. Maddox is all lean muscle and nervous energy, always moving, always thinking three steps ahead. His brown hair is artfully tousled, like he just rolled out of bed looking perfectly put together. Which, knowing Maddox, he probably did. He’s wearing one of his signature flashy suits, this one a deep purple that shouldn’t work but somehow does.

‘Your head wasn’t in it,’ he says, perching on the bench across from me. ‘You’re lucky you pulled it together in that last round.’

I scowl, irritation flaring. ‘I won, didn’t I?’

Maddox rolls his eyes. ‘You always win, Leon. That’s not the point. Your next opponent won’t be so easy to overwhelm with brute strength.’

My eyes widen at that. ‘Don’t tell me you managed to get Ace Sterling.’

Maddox grins, his earlier concern forgotten in the face of his triumph. ‘I’m the best manager in the world, aren’t I?’

Before I can respond, my phone buzzes. Rhys’s name flashes on the screen and my stomach drops.

‘I need to take this,’ I mutter, already heading for the door.

Maddox nods, understanding in his eyes. ‘Tell the good doctor I said hi.’

I step out into the hallway, taking a deep breath before answering. ‘Hey, Rhys.’

‘Leon!’ Rhys’s warm voice washes over me, and for a moment, I forget about my guilt. ‘How was the match?’

‘I won,’ I say, trying to inject a fraction of the same enthusiasm into my voice.

‘That’s wonderful!’ Rhys exclaims. ‘Can’t say I’m surprised, but congratulations.’

‘Thanks,’ I manage. ‘But enough about me. How was the Temporary Bonds meetup?’

There’s a pause on the other end of the line, long enough to make me wonder if the call dropped. Then Rhys speaks, his voice oddly hesitant.

‘Leon, I… I don’t know how to say this, but we met the omega we matched with and… I think she’s our scent match.’

The words hit me like a punch to the gut, harder than anything my opponent threw in the ring.

For a moment, I can’t breathe, can’t think.

Our scent match?

No. This can’t be happening.

‘Leon? Are you upset?’ Rhys’s voice is small, worried.

I swallow hard, forcing myself to speak past the lump in my throat. ‘No, of course not. It’s not like you planned it.’

But inwardly, I’m reeling. Now it’s too late to come clean. How can I tell Rhys about my past when he’s just found our fucking scent match?

‘There are some things we need to discuss,’ Rhys says, ‘but it’s probably better left for when you get home.’

I nod, forgetting for a moment that he can’t see me. ‘Yeah, that’s… that’s probably best.’

There’s another pause, and I can practically hear Rhys gathering his courage. ‘There’s one more thing. She’s… going to spend her heat with us. Tomorrow night.’

My grip on the phone tightens.

Tomorrow night?

That’s so soon.

Too soon.

‘But only if you’re comfortable with it,’ Rhys adds quickly. ‘If you want us to wait until you’re home, we can⁠—’

‘No,’ I interrupt, the word escaping before I can think better of it. ‘No, it’s fine. Go ahead.’

I should be racing home, demanding to meet this omega before we commit to anything. He’s going to be suspicious that’s not what I’m doing. But the thought of facing Rhys, of having to explain why I can’t do this…

I thought this would just be a temporary way to get them off my back about taking an omega into the pack. That they could find someone they could have a fling with and I could keep coming up with excuses why I can’t get involved.

For fuck’s sake, isn’t the whole damn company called Temporary Bonds?

‘Are you sure?’ Rhys asks, and I can hear the mix of hope and concern—and, as I expected, a hint of suspicion—in his voice.

‘I’m sure,’ I lie. ‘I’ll be home as soon as I can.’

We say our goodbyes and I end the call, leaning back against the wall. My head is spinning, my chest tight with a mix of emotions I can’t even begin to untangle.

I waited too long.

There’s no turning back now.

As I stand there, trying to gather the courage to face Maddox and the rest of my post-fight responsibilities, one thought keeps echoing through my mind.

What have I fucking done?