Chapter 82: The Scent of Betrayal
Sam’s POV
The corridor stretched endlessly before me, each tick of the wall clock echoing the thud of my own heart. I stood guard outside Bradley’s door like a damn sentry, shoulders squared, trying to project an authority I didn’t feel. My wolf paced restlessly beneath my skin, uncomfortable with this particular duty.
A human nurse bustled past, her scrubs whispering against the linoleum. She shot me a look over her shoulder, nose wrinkled in disgust as she caught a whiff of the air around Room 409. You’d think I was the one getting laid, I thought, rubbing the back of my neck. The scent pouring from under the door was thick enough to choke on - sex, sweat, and the raw musk of werewolf mating. If I could smell it this strongly, the humans definitely noticed something, even if they couldn’t place it. They probably thought someone had doused the hallway in cheap cologne mixed with gym socks.
The sounds didn’t help. Moans, the rhythmic creak of the bed, the occasional thump against the wall - it all carried down the hallway with crystal clarity. Secondhand embarrassment didn’t begin to cover it. I’d faced down rogue wolves without flinching, but this? This made me want to crawl into a hole.
Another nurse passed, this one older, her ash-blonde eyebrows nearly disappearing into her hairline. Her lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval. I cringed, imagining the scene if Bradley weren’t paying this facility a small fortune. Security would be dragging his naked ass out of here, and Trishelle’s too. Their pictures would be plastered all over the internet by morning, labeled as perverts who couldn’t keep it in their pants even in a nursing home. The tabloids would have a field day.
My jaw tightened as I replayed last night. The sight of James leaving Trishelle’s room, the scent of him clinging to her skin like a brand. I wasn’t sure if I’d been seen lurking in the shadows, but I knew Bradley needed to know. All this noise behind the door now - this was his wolf staking his claim, marking his territory in the most primal way possible. Erasing every trace of James’s presence with his own.
For a moment, blessed silence fell. I inhaled deeply, relief washing over me like cool water, but it was premature. A fresh round of sounds started up, louder this time, more urgent. Trishelle’s cry, Bradley’s answering growl that vibrated through the door. I hung my head, face burning hot enough to fry an egg on. Man, I need to get laid.
I pulled out my phone, thumbs flying across the screen. Martha, wire another generous tip to the facility.
Her reply was instant. Why? What’s happened now?
Before I could type a response, a pleasure-filled scream ripped through the door, followed by Bradley’s shout of "Fuck!" That was explanation enough. I could almost picture Martha’s cheeks turning crimson, her hand flying to her mouth in shock. She’d give Bradley hell for this later, and I chuckled at the thought despite my discomfort.
Finally, mercifully, the noise subsided for good. My shoulders slumped in exhaustion, muscles I hadn’t realized I’d tensed finally relaxing. This was more draining than training, more exhausting than a full-blown battle. At least in a fight, I could do something other than stand here like a glorified bouncer at the world’s most awkward club. I gently pushed against the mental barrier Bradley had erected, feeling it give just enough for me to slip through.
All clear? I sent through our link. Lorenzo wants to check in.
Doctor can see me after lunch, Bradley’s thoughts came back, thick with satisfaction and smug contentment. We’re done for now.
The barrier snapped shut with finality. I leaned against the wall, rubbing my temples where a headache had begun to bloom. At least it was over. For now.
Bradley’s POV
Trishelle lay curled against my chest, her breathing soft and even, her heartbeat a steady rhythm against my ribs. I brushed a stray strand of hair from her forehead, pressing a tender kiss to her skin. She smelled like me now, like us. My wolf preened with satisfaction, already healing the last of my wounds from the inside out. The bond between us hummed with contentment, a golden thread connecting our souls.
Doctor can see me after lunch, I sent to Sam, my mental voice firm and unapologetic. We’re done for now.
I closed the link completely, tightening my hold on my mate. Pulling the covers over us both, I buried my face in her hair, inhaling deeply. Vanilla and jasmine, now mixed with my own scent - pine and earth. Perfect. She snuggled closer, a soft sigh escaping her lips that made my heart clench with tenderness.
My eyes drifted closed as I felt the last of the pain fade away, replaced by a bone-deep satisfaction I’d never experienced before. The doctor would discharge me this evening. And once we were home, once we’d rested and recovered in our own bed... I smiled against her hair, already planning. We were definitely doing this all over again.
James’s POV
The vending machine can hit the floor with a hollow thud that echoed through the empty waiting area. I’d been pacing for three hours, wearing a groove in the linoleum, my wolf clawing at my insides with increasing desperation. There was no reason for me to be here, no logical explanation I could give if anyone asked, but I couldn’t make myself leave. Not yet. Something kept me rooted to this place, some invisible thread I couldn’t sever.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out, firing off instructions to Richard and the others with mechanical precision. Keep training, maintain patrols, report anything unusual. Anything to keep my mind off what might be happening three floors above me. Anything to stop the images that kept flashing through my head.
The elevator dinged, its doors sliding open with a soft whoosh. I stepped back, allowing a small group of nurses and orderlies to exit. They moved quickly, expressions ranging from amused to annoyed, gazes fixed anywhere but on me. The tension radiating from them was palpable.
Before I could step inside, one of the nurses grabbed my arm with surprising strength. Her face was stern, eyes narrowed into slits of disapproval.
"Are you with the patient in Room 409?" she demanded, voice low and clipped.
I tried to remember the room number, my mind sluggish. "You mean Alp - uh... Bradley?"
She gave a sharp nod, lips pressed into a thin line. I rubbed the back of my neck, a knot of dread forming in my stomach like a lead weight. "You could say that."
The nurse huffed, leaning closer until I could smell the coffee on her breath. "Listen, I really don’t care who he is or who you are, for that matter. This place pays me well enough not to care." Her voice dropped even further, taking on a dangerous edge. "What I do mind, however, is the fact that this is still a medical facility where children," she stressed the word with venom, "do get treatment. Thank God we don’t have any at the moment."
I frowned, confusion cutting through my anxiety. What did that have to do with anything?
She straightened, tugging at her scrubs with sharp, angry movements. "Please let your friend know that this is not a place for his kinky fantasies of playing doctor to come true." With that, she spun on her heel and stomped away, soft-soled shoes making almost no sound despite her obvious anger.
The elevator doors slid closed, leaving me alone in the hallway. Her words replayed in my mind, each syllable driving deeper like a knife. A bad feeling spread through my chest like poison, cold and numbing. I jabbed the button again, heart sinking as the steel cage bore me upward with agonizing slowness.
The moment the doors opened on the fourth floor, I knew. The scent hit me like a physical blow, stealing the air from my lungs - sex, sweat, and something else. Something achingly familiar. My heightened senses picked up every note, every nuance, cataloging each one with brutal precision. There was no mistaking the sweet smell of my mate, except this time it was intertwined with the scent of him. Bradley. All over her. Inside her.
I forced myself to move forward, one foot after the other, legs heavy as lead. I wanted to believe my nose was lying, that my senses were playing some cruel trick. But Sam’s face as I approached Room 409 confirmed everything. The pity in his eyes was worse than anger, worse than contempt. It stripped me bare, left me raw and exposed.
My hand reached for the doorknob, trembling slightly. Sam stopped me, fingers wrapping around my wrist with gentle firmness.
"I don’t think that’s a good idea," he said quietly, voice thick with sympathy I didn’t want.
I gritted my teeth, my wolf whining in my head like a wounded animal. I had to know, had to see for myself, had to confirm what my heart already knew. But what would be the point? The truth was already written all over Sam’s face, in the set of his shoulders, in the way he wouldn’t quite meet my eyes. I never thought I’d see pity from Bradley’s second in command, and that somehow made it all worse. Did it mean I was wrong? That Trishelle wasn’t my mate after all? Or did it mean something far more painful - that she was my mate, but she’d chosen him anyway?
My mind swirled with questions, with pain, with betrayal so sharp it felt like my chest was being ripped open. I spun around, tears blurring my vision until the hallway became a watercolor painting. I stumbled toward the stairs, unable to wait for the elevator, unable to stand there one more second breathing in the evidence of my loss.
I made it down one flight, nearly tumbling down the next as my legs gave out. Only my reflexes saved me from planting my face into the wall. My hand shot out, catching the railing with enough force to dent the metal.
I collapsed on the cold concrete steps of the stairwell, finally allowing the tears to fall. It had been so long since I’d cried - years, decades. Alphas didn’t cry. Leaders didn’t break. But now, the grief was overwhelming, a tidal wave of emotion I couldn’t hold back any longer. Great, shuddering sobs tore from my chest, echoing in the empty stairwell. I buried my face in my hands, shoulders shaking with the force of my anguish.
Trishelle’s POV
I jolted awake, a stabbing pain in my chest so sharp it stole my breath and left me gasping. My hand flew to my heart, pressing against the ache that seemed to radiate from somewhere deep inside. I spun around in panic, eyes flying to Bradley. He was sleeping peacefully, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, face relaxed and content, completely unaware of the agony tearing through me.
So why did my heart ache as if my mate were in agony? Why did it feel like someone was dying just beyond my reach?