AGAINST THE RULES: their scentless omega-Chapter 58 - 2 alphas- Ethan and Hunter

The road stretched ahead of them in long ribbons of fading light, the city slowly thinning into wider streets and quieter turns. Ethan rode the bike with steady hands, the engine humming beneath them like a second heartbeat. Lucian sat behind him, one arm wrapped around Ethan’s waist, fingers lightly gripping the fabric of his jacket, not tight enough to restrain, just enough to remind himself that this was real, that Ethan was truly there and not just another memory resurfacing to haunt him.

The wind pressed against Lucian’s face, cool and sharp, yet his thoughts were warm

, too warm. They looped back without permission.

"Can I have the permission to kiss you?"

The words replayed with embarrassing clarity. The way Ethan’s voice had trembled despite his usual bravado, the way the space between them had shrunk until breathing felt shared. The memory didn’t stop at the question; it drifted further, to the hesitant closeness, the overwhelming scent that had filled the room, the lingering touches that had spoken louder than any confession. Lucian felt his ears heat slightly beneath the helmet, his grip around Ethan tightening unconsciously.

The vibration of the bike pulled him back, but not completely. Memories overlapped with the present until the line between then and now blurred.

"Honestly, I can’t believe you remembered that quote," Ethan had said earlier, sitting at the edge of the bed with his back half-turned, shoulders tense like he was bracing for judgment that never came.

Lucian had been lying on the mattress, watching him quietly, noticing the small things, how Ethan’s fingers curled when he was nervous, how his voice lost its edge when he spoke sincerely.

"For a moment I almost forgot the reason I wanted to race," Ethan continued, rubbing the back of his neck. "But... thank you for reminding me." His tone had softened, stripped of arrogance. "I know things between us weren’t good. Hell, even now they’re not perfect. I did some nasty stuff I’m not proud of. I hurt you pretty badly."

He paused, and in that pause lived all the things he didn’t know how to phrase. "I just hope... that things between us will be okay. That you still don’t hate me." He glanced over his shoulder, eyes uncertain for once. "Let’s get to know one another again... Lucian."

It wasn’t a grand apology. It wasn’t poetic. But it was honest, and honesty from Ethan had always felt rarer than speed itself.

Back on the bike, Lucian smiled faintly at the recollection, a softness touching his expression that the wind quickly stole away. He tightened his hold just a little, cheek almost brushing Ethan’s back. Ethan must have felt it, because he tilted his head slightly, a small smirk forming even though Lucian couldn’t fully see his face. He didn’t say anything; he just accelerated smoothly, as if the road ahead had suddenly become lighter.

And suddenly it felt like we were back there... 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

First year. The cafeteria. Burgers and fries and awkward silences.

Back at the event grounds, the noise of the crowd clashed sharply with the uneasy silence inside the preparation room. On the giant screens outside, the presenter’s voice boomed with forced enthusiasm, filling the stadium with excitement,but inside, tension hung thick, heavy enough to feel.

Hunter stood near the exit, phone pressed to his ear for what must have been the tenth time in the last few minutes. The call rang once... twice... then the automated voice answered again.

Voicemail.

His jaw tightened. Without a word he ended the call and immediately dialed again, as if repetition alone could bend reality to his will. The screen lit up with Lucian’s name, then dimmed. Straight to voicemail. Again.

Old Man Harris leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, trying to look calm even though the crease between his brows betrayed him. Bulldozer stood beside him, massive arms folded, foot tapping impatiently against the floor like a ticking clock.

"I’m sure he’ll come with Ethan," Harris finally said, voice steady but softer than usual. "That kid doesn’t abandon things halfway. Not Lucian."

"Well he better hurry up with that," Bulldozer muttered, rolling his shoulders. "Or the red team’s doomed before the engines even start. And I hate easy wins." He clicked his tongue. "Feels like fighting ghosts instead of riders."

Hunter said nothing. His thumb hovered over the call button again, but he didn’t press it this time. Instead he stared at the darkened screen, his reflection faintly visible, cold eyes, controlled expression, but the tension in his grip betrayed the storm underneath. Around him, the distant cheers of the audience only made the waiting worse.

In the far corner of the room, half-hidden behind stacked crates and spare helmets, Mason sat hunched forward. His fingers trembled as he scrolled through his phone. The screen glowed with a brutal number.

100 missed calls — Ethan Steel

None returned. Not even a single message.

He bit down on his nails without realizing it, teeth pressing until it hurt. This is bad... bad, bad, bad. His thoughts spiraled, each one louder than the last. The image of Ethan and Lucian together flashed through his mind, Lucian smiling in a way Mason had never been able to provoke, Ethan looking at him like he actually mattered. The jealousy twisted into something sharper, uglier.

They can’t get back together.

They just can’t.

His breathing grew shallow. He lowered the phone slightly, eyes darting toward Hunter’s rigid figure, then toward Harris and Bulldozer. Everyone was focused on the missing rider. No one was looking at him.

I have to find another way.

Even if it means getting my hands dirty again.

The thought settled in his chest like a decision already made.

"And we are live again, ladies and gentlemen!" the presenter’s voice burst from the television, loud enough to rattle the thin glass of the screen. "All bikers, please proceed to your spawn points immediately. The race is about to begin!"

For a brief moment the room froze, as if the announcement had pressed a pause button on everyone inside. The distant roar of the stadium leaked through the walls—cheers, engines revving, the heavy pulse of anticipation building second by second.

Bulldozer was the first to move. He rolled his neck once, the joints cracking audibly, then pushed himself off the wall. "We should head out now," he said, tone firm but not unkind. His gaze flickered toward Hunter. "I’ll see you on the race... Hunter." He walked past Old Man Harris and gave his shoulder a reassuring pat. "I’m sure Ethan will come. Have a little faith." With that, he turned and exited, his heavy footsteps fading down the corridor.

Old Man Harris scratched the back of his scalp, exhaling through his nose. "I’ll... go to my room and wait for them there," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. His usual gruff confidence was missing, replaced by a restless uncertainty. He shuffled out slowly, the door clicking shut behind him.

Silence returned, thicker than before.

Hunter remained standing in the middle of the room, unmoving, eyes fixed on the darkened television screen where reflections replaced the broadcast. Lucian’s face surfaced in his mind without invitation, the way he avoided eye contact earlier, the hesitation in his voice, the softness he never showed anyone else. Hunter’s jaw tightened.

It shouldn’t bother me at all, he told himself bitterly.

It doesn’t have to affect me... Lucian’s choices are none of my concern.

Yet the denial tasted hollow. His fingers curled slightly at his sides, tension crawling up his arms. A faint wave of pheromones slipped into the air before he even realized it, sharp, restless, betraying what his expression refused to show. The room subtly shifted with it, an invisible pressure settling into the space.

He paused, catching himself, and his gaze drifted toward the corner.

Mason sat there, hunched over, eyes glued to his phone screen, seemingly unaffected by his pheromones. Hunter watched him for a second longer than necessary, then exhaled quietly. Right... he’s a beta, he wont smell my pheromones. The realization steadied him a fraction. No reaction, no discomfort. Just indifference.

Without another word, Hunter turned and walked out, the door closing with a muted thud behind him. The lingering scent of his frustration hung in the air for a moment longer before slowly dissipating,

Leaving Mason alone in the quiet, the glow of his screen reflecting in eyes that were anything but calm.

He walked down the passageway, the echo of his boots bouncing off the concrete walls. The noise of the stadium outside grew louder with every step,engines roaring, announcers shouting, the crowd alive with anticipation, yet inside the corridor everything felt strangely muted, like he was moving through a tunnel sealed off from the rest of the world.

Then he saw him.

Ethan stood near the entrance that led to the pit area, helmet hanging loosely from his fingers, posture relaxed as if he hadn’t just been missing for hours. Hunter’s steps slowed on instinct, irritation flickering across his face.

He’s finally here, Hunter thought bitterly.

He clicked his tongue and moved to pass him without a word. He didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of acknowledgment,not now, not when the mere sight of him stirred something unpleasant in his chest.

But halfway past, he froze.

His eyes narrowed.

There it was, faint, almost imperceptible, but unmistakable. A scent woven into the air around Ethan, clinging to his clothes, his skin. Not strong enough for anyone to notice in a crowded space... but Hunter wasn’t just anyone.

Lucian.

The realization snapped through him like a pulled wire.

Before Ethan could even shift his weight, Hunter’s hand shot out. In one swift motion he grabbed the front of Ethan’s jacket and slammed him against the wall. The impact echoed down the corridor, drawing a few distant glances from passing staff who wisely chose to keep walking.

"What did you do with him?" Hunter snarled, his voice low but vibrating with restrained rage. His grip tightened, knuckles whitening. The scent was clearer up close, subtle, warm, undeniably Lucian’s. It coiled in his lungs and set his nerves on fire.

Ethan didn’t flinch.

Instead, a slow smirk spread across his lips, infuriatingly calm. He tilted his head slightly, eyes glinting with amusement rather than fear. "So you can smell it too," he said casually, as if they were discussing the weather instead of standing one shove away from a fight.

Hunter’s jaw flexed.

"Lucian’s pheromones," Ethan continued, voice smooth, almost teasing. "So you noticed... he isn’t as scentless as everyone thinks." His gaze sharpened, meeting Hunter’s directly. "Looks like only you and I can pick it up."

The words hung between them, heavy with implication. Not just a statement, but a claim, a line drawn without being spoken aloud. Ethan’s smirk deepened, and for a split second Hunter felt the sting of it, not jealousy exactly, but something dangerously close, something he refused to name.