The cold pack slipped slightly in Ethan's hand as he pressed it against his cheek, wincing from the dull ache spreading beneath his skin. The bruise had already darkened, the result of Hunter's unexpected punch. The ice numbed the pain, but not the humiliation burning in his chest. He looked at the mirror as he looked at his cheek
Coco sat nearby, tail wagging tentatively, big brown eyes watching him with quiet concern. Ethan exhaled harshly, his chest rising and falling in frustration. "Don't look at me like that," he muttered. "I didn't deserve that hit. He just—"
He stopped himself, jaw tightening. Hunter's voice still echoed in his head, calm and righteous as always , 'You'll be an exception.' That single sentence replayed over and over, each repetition digging deeper under his skin. 'ill be Lucian's rider from now on'
He clenched the towel in his fist, the ice cubes cracking inside. "He thinks he's some kind of hero?" he muttered under his breath, anger twisting his features. "He doesn't even know what's going on."
The towel slammed against the sink with a wet slap, the sound echoing sharply in the small apartment. Coco flinched and darted out of the room, nails clicking against the floor. Ethan sighed, gripping the counter until his knuckles turned white.
"Why do I even care…" he whispered. "Why does it still hurt like this?" he looked at the mirror at his own reflection , he couldn't believe that he lost Lucien just like that
For a moment, silence. Only the faint hum of the fridge filled the room. Then , a knock.
He groaned, already annoyed, as he stormed to the door, he was not in the mood for visitors especially if its that freaking friend of Lucian "Mason, if you came to—"
He stopped dead.
It wasn't Mason.
His mother stood in the doorway, her eyes red and wet, trembling as she tried to speak. "Ethan…" Her voice cracked. "It's your sister."
The towel fell from his hand. "What about Monica?"
Tears rolled down her cheeks. "She collapsed. The doctor says it's her blood sugar again… they don't know if—"
He didn't let her finish. He was already out the door.
The camera cut sharply to the golden expanse of the Regeants Training Field, the morning sun glinting off the polished helmets and roaring bikes.
Mrs. Gray sat in the shaded VIP section, a porcelain cup of tea held with poised fingers. Her gaze was fixed on the track below, where her son, Timothy, rode like he owned the wind ,precise, fierce, unrelenting.
The engines roared as he took a turn, dust and adrenaline rising in his wake. Her lips curved slightly , not with pride, but with satisfaction.
Her manager approached her cautiously. "Your son's progress is… impressive. The crowd already loves him. His reputation alone will draw massive coverage."
Mrs. Gray tilted her head slightly, her voice calm and low. "Good. Let the media feed on it. Every camera that points at him is another nail in the Dastin family's coffin."
The manager blinked. "I thought this was about sponsorship?"
Her smirk deepened, venom hidden beneath elegance. "Oh, it's far more than that. The Grays have always been overshadowed by that side of the family , my husband's precious younger brother and his disgraceful omega son. But when Timothy wins the Regeants, we'll finally crush that legacy once and for all."
The sound of tires screeching drew her gaze back to the field. Timothy brought his bike to a smooth stop, removing his helmet, hair slick with sweat. He looked every bit the image of confidence and danger.
She descended from her seat, heels clicking sharply against the steps, and approached him as he wiped his forehead with a towel. "You rode beautifully," she said softly, a rare warmth in her tone. "Keep that up. You will be able to win the elimination round no problem"
Timothy gave a half-smirk, tossing the towel aside. "Don't worry, Mother," he said, confidence radiating off him. "I won't disappoint you. I never do."
She smiled faintly. "See that you don't. The Grays don't settle for second place."
But as she walked away, her expression hardened. Especially not to an omega.
The steady beep of the heart monitor was the only sound in the hospital room. Ethan sat beside Monica's bed, his fingers brushing her frail hand. Her breathing was shallow, her face pale , too pale.
The doctor stood near the doorway, clipboard in hand. "Her blood sugar levels spiked severely. She'll need long-term medication… possibly insulin therapy." He hesitated. "But the cost—"
Ethan interrupted quietly. "How much?"
The doctor named a figure that made his stomach drop. His mother gasped softly.
"I'll find the money," Ethan said immediately. "Whatever it takes."
After the doctor left, his mother sat beside him, voice soft and hesitant. "Maybe you could ask Lucian for help?"
Ethan stiffened. "No."
"Ethan—"
"I said no." His tone was final. "Not after everything. I'm not begging him." He said as he ran his hand through his head , their relationship was in the mud to think of asking money , he will find a way , if it means getting more part time to be able to cover up the treatment then so be it , he will work till his last breath as long as Monica can live healthy
He stared blankly at the TV in the corner of the room , the news flickered across the screen, showing the Regeants preview. Shining helmets. Crowds cheering. The announcer's voice was sharp and thrilling.
"This year's Regeants will feature elite riders from across the region , including Timothy Gray, the rising prodigy!"
He scoffed , ' even the son of the Gray's family was joining' he thought
The camera panned to the prize pool.
Enough to cover every bill. Enough to save Monica.
Ethan leaned back slowly, the reflection of the TV flickering in his cold eyes. His lips pressed into a thin line.
"If I join the Regeants…" he murmured. "I could fix everything. I could make it right."
He stood up, looking at Monica's fragile face. "I'll win this," he whispered. "I promise you that."
The Dastin mansion was bathed in moonlight, cold and quiet.
Outside Lucian's door, Hunter stood silently, leaning against the wall. He could hear faint noises from inside , the creak of the bed, the soft jingle of something metallic.
Inside, Lucian sat cross-legged on the bed, staring down at the small toy bike resting in his palm. The once-shiny metal was now scratched and faded , a memory of the boy who dreamed of racing before the world labelled him "less."
His fingers tightened around the toy until his knuckles whitened.
He could still hear his father's voice ,"If you want me to recognize you… crush them."
The words replayed like a curse. Recognition. That was all he'd ever wanted. Not love. Not approval. Just for his father to see him again.
Lucian's eyes glistened as he whispered, "I have to win this. I have to prove that I'm more than just an omega."
Outside, Hunter closed his eyes briefly, hearing the strain in Lucian's voice. He wanted to knock , to say something, anything , but he didn't. He just stayed there, a silent guardian, until the light under the door went out. "you will win this Chiquttin" he whispered before he left
At the training field, Timothy stood in the center of the track, wind sweeping through his blonde hair. The night air was sharp, electric. His eyes scanned the stretch of asphalt as he smirked.
"The Dastin family won't know what hit them," he murmured. "When I'm done, there won't even be a shadow left to remember them by."
Back at the hospital, Ethan sat beside his sleeping sister, determination etched into every line of his face. "I'll win this," he said under his breath. "No one's stopping me this time."
And at the Dastin mansion, Lucian rose slowly from his bed. His reflection stared back from the window ,tired, wounded, but unbroken. "I have to win this," he whispered.
Timothy, as he looked at the field, laced his gloves tightly and smirked at his reflection. "I'm going to win this."
Three men. Three hearts burning with pride, pain, and desperation.
Different reasons.
Same goal.
The wind howled across the night, carrying one shared whisper from all three:
"Game on."