Page 69 of Altius
Tucking my phone back into my coat pocket, I returned my attention to my tablet, fingers slipping as I adjusted my hold. My view accidentally switched to special teams. A bright red exclamation pulsed next to Landon’s name.
My breath caught, but I maintained my outward calm.
“Reyhan.” I showed him the screen, scanning the field for any sign of the team’s star kicker. “I don’t see him.”
“He was right there.” Reyhan pointed to the far end of the field, where the punter was practicing kicks. “Like five minutes ago.”
“Okay.” A plan of action rapidly came together in my head. “Let’s split up. Can you tell the guys from Designation Services what’s happening, then head to the equipment room? I’m going to check the locker room and the omega lounge. We don’t need to catch them. Just pay attention to who’s in the area and if you pick up any weird pheromone signatures.”
“And if I find an incensed alpha?” he asked nervously.
“Call security.” I patted him on the shoulder. “So, keep your phone handy.”
I headed toward the locker room entrance at a healthy clip, a little faster than my usual pace but not fast enough to seem suspicious. As I walked, scanning for any signs of Landon, I texted a brief update to Cal and Dr. McEwen.
I was content to pretend my boyfriend wouldn’t make me regret charging off like this. Maybe not this week or next—we had a heat to get through—but he’d collect his toll eventually.
After two passes around the locker room, I headed into the taping area, intending to cut through the hydrotherapy room to the omega athletes’ lounge.
Raised voices from the team meeting room changed my trajectory. I came to a stop just outside the door.
“It’s your own fault!” The voice had a pleasant, slightly reedy timbre, even when angry. I recognized it as Landon’s.
“Since when did borrowing your chemistry notes come with a lecture?” The second voice was deeper, with a bit of an emotional wobble—Tyler.
“Since you fucked up your hand, just like you fucked up your ACL. What happened to holding back during practice?”
“I tried, man, I tried. It’s just not my style. I like going for the kill every time. Didn’t mean to get hurt.”
“No one does. But you’ve made some other shitty decisions off the field, too, haven’t you? Starting with not listening to Morgan.”
“Yeah, I know, I know. Let the whole omega thing cloud my judgment.”
“The omega thing?” Landon’s voice went up an octave. “The fuck’s that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t mean you! You’re—you’re different, okay?”
“What, because I’m a dude?” Landon’s voice got louder, angrier—and closer. “Are you shitting me right now? You ran around with all that extra tape and padding on your hand because you don’t think an omega woman can be a doctor?”
“No, but—I mean, kind of, at first… Don’t look at me like that. I’m not the only one!”
Deciding that I’d heard more than enough, I backed away. Returning to the taping area, I set my phone and tablet on a table, taking another look at Landon’s data.
The pheromone spike had a similar intensity to the others but was much shorter. Less intentional.
I pulled up Tyler’s data. There were a few spikes, including one just now, when Landon challenged him. A completely different pattern from the pheromone bombs. It wasn’t malicious. Simply evidence of an argument between friends.
After texting a false alarm message to Cal and the others, I stared at Tyler’s real-time pheromone emissions, watching them dip and peak, over and over, like a heartbeat.
What if—
“Hey there, um, Morgan.” Coach Garvey stood a few feet away, looking flustered despite trying to project casual bravado.
The most unwelcome interruption at the worst possible moment, allowing what might have been a critical thought to leak out of my brain.
My temper flared, about to tell him off—until I realized Garvey might be our culprit. Just as Cal and I first suspected.
It seemed odd for a coach to appear near the scene of a pheromone spike by himself while the rest of the defensive line was still on the field practicing. Could he have prompted Landon and Tyler to fight—was that part of the strategy? Undermine the players’ emotional stability to the point of injury?
