Off-Sides: The Alpha's Obsession

The text message was short, red, and ruinous.

[St. Jude’s Billing: PAYMENT DECLINED. Outstanding Balance: $12,400. Treatment for Patient L. Vance will be suspended in 24 hours.]

I stared at the screen until the numbers burned into my retinas. The cold porcelain toilet lid at the stadium locker room made my hamstrings contact the surface as I experienced a nervous energy which caused my legs to move rapidly.

Twenty-four hours.

That was the deadline. The Championship bonus represented Lily's only chance for chemo treatment and she would die without it.

The solution to the problem was extremely straightforward but it resulted in severe consequences.

I dropped the phone into my gym bag and dug around for the unmarked amber bottle at the bottom. The plastic casing trembled violently as my hands shook. The rich Omegas used these as their clean pharmaceutical suppressants. The dealer behind the laundromat in the slums sold these 'Ghost Pills.

The product eliminated your natural scent while it completely destroyed your biological functions.

I took two chalky tablets into my hand and consumed them without any liquid.

The glass shards entered my system through my mouth. The burn began to spread from my stomach and continued until it reached every vein which felt like they were carrying gasoline instead of blood. My heart began to race at 180 beats per minute which felt like a hummingbird was beating its wings against my chest.

I touched my neck to feel the patch that was located at the base of my neck. The adhesive was itching, digging into the sensitive skin over my scent gland, but it held firm.

"Vance!" Coach Miller’s voice boomed from the main room, muffled by the heavy stall door. "Stop hiding in the crapper! We’re on ice in five!"

I showed physical signs of feeling afraid. Showtime.

I stood up, took a breath that tasted of stale air and bleach, and slapped my cheeks hard. The sting from the slap would help me focus.

I unlocked the stall and stepped into the lion's den.

The locker room atmosphere had enough weight to make breathing impossible. The room contained a wintergreen ointment fragrance which combined with the scent of expensive leather and the overwhelming scents produced by twenty-five elite Alphas. To an Omega, it felt like walking into a cage of tigers.

The Sterling University Varsity team was a collection of monsters. Their enormous size and loud volume combined with their arrogant confidence which stemmed from both their wealth and their genetic advantages. They crashed the doors while they yelled insulting remarks which resulted in loud echoes through the room.

Damon Sterling.

The Captain taped his stick while he sat on the main bench. He moved with a terrifying, surgical precision. The procedure for wrapping the material required him to create a smooth surface which he would apply to the next section.

The air in his room became colder when I entered. The atmosphere around him made me feel physically cold. He emitted power which reached all his body parts. The power he emitted made my arm hairs stand up.

My internal wolf animal whimpered while it lost all its energy and curled into a ball in my cerebral back section. Alpha. Predator. Run.

I fought back the natural instinct which made me want to approach him. I avoided eye contact with him as I walked toward my locker while staring at the floor. Be small. Be invisible. Be a Beta.

You arrived too late to join us.

The sound of Damon’s voice emerged as a low rumble which barely exceeded the level of a whisper. The locker room noise became completely silent.

I stopped moving as my hand remained above the latch for my locker.

I lied to him about my gear inspection. My voice remained controlled but my pulse felt like it was trying to break free from my throat.

Damon finally looked up.

His eyes were steel-grey, cold, and utterly unforgiving. He assessed me with extreme detail as he looked at me. He examined every part of me starting from my worn sneakers to my inexpensive used equipment and finally stopping at my neck.

He stood up.

The motion was fluid and predatory. The man stood at six foot four with a body that appeared as solid muscle which emitted hostility. He approached me by closing the distance with two steps which made his body heat touch me.

The scent of cedarwood and ozone made my knees weaken with its powerful electric scent.

He leaned down, his nose flaring slightly.

He followed him back to his territory to check everything out.

The shadow he cast above me made me completely disappear from view.

The Varsity line requires members to face all their challenges without any signs of fear or doubt. The officer pointed his finger at his chest to show the officer's rank. The officer in charge of security would use his body force to knock me out of the ice zone. The officer in charge of security would use his body force to knock me out of the ice zone.

Lily's face appeared in my mind when I heard the word trauma ward. The pallid figure of Lily awaited my arrival. The fear vanished when a spark of desperate anger ignited inside me. I needed this game. I needed the money. And no trust-fund billionaire was going to stand in my way.

I looked up, locking eyes with him. The battle for survival made me hold his gaze fixed on him.

I don't flinch because I maintain my composure, he declared. I don't require your permission to be present here because I deserve my position.

A gasp rippled through the room. A rookie talking back to Damon Sterling? It was suicide.

Damon’s eyes widened. A dangerous spark lit up the grey depths. He wasn't used to resistance. The man looked at me as if I were a weak rabbit who had been discovered by a fierce wolf.

He showed no signs of anger. He looked... hungry.

Damon smirked as he spoke. The expression he wore had a cruel but beautiful appearance.

He shoved past me, his shoulder checking mine hard enough to send me stumbling back into the metal lockers with a loud clang.

He shouted over his shoulder to me, telling me to get on the ice so he could see whether I would break under pressure.

I fixated on him as he walked away, the 'C' on his back becoming an object of mockery to me. I gripped my hockey stick until my knuckles turned white, the pain grounding me.

Playing this game tonight required me to walk on a tightrope which extended over a pit filled with vipers.

Damon Sterling started to shake the rope which I was walking.