Contrary to popular belief, weres don't actually need alphas. Patrick never had one, since he's the only person in his family with the gene, and his parents didn't push him into finding one. Alphas make their betas better; they keep them calm and level, they support them, they guide them. Without an alpha, betas are perfectly fine. They're just better with one.

“Geno? Are you okay? Physically,” Sid asks, which is good, because Zhenya doesn’t think he can put into words how he’s feeling emotionally. He imagines saying, The person I’ve loved for ten years finally took me to bed last night, but it turns out he didn’t want to, and now I can read his mind. No, thank you. “Feel fine,” Zhenya answers. “Even head feel fine.” And suddenly he realizes how fucking odd that is: he was concussed, and the room is brightly lit – he should be hiding under a blanket right now. He narrows his eyes and asks, “Sid, why head feel fine? What happen to concussion?” Sid takes a halting step closer to the bed and says, “Our bond, it’s—it’s a healing bond.” “Holy mother of God,” Zhenya breathes. So. They’re definitely not breaking the bond, then.

Sid growls. He can’t help it. It’s wrong. Malkin is whimpering and crying and struggling against his restraints. His scent is all fear and chemicals and something deeper, something dark and oppressing. Sid thinks it’s anger but it’s too bitter to try and get a proper read on.

Beau has a good feeling about this season.

“Sid, need you to pay attention to me,” Alex says firmly. “You have bond crisis. You sick, Sid. Very sick. Need somebody to touch you to stop you being sick.” “I didn’t know you could get sick from being lonely,” Crosby mumbles. Zhenya makes a noise that sounds like he’s been punched. “I guess it makes sense, though.”

“You’re an investment,” Pat had told Sid over and over. “You’re a talent, and we’re not letting the league freeze you out for this.” The NHL demands omegas be bonded to play. Sid, unwilling to lose hockey, agrees to enter into a bond with the Penguins' draft prospect Evgeni Malkin. It does not go as they planned.

"The bond's fucked up, boys," Jamie says. There are nods around the room, from all the vets. "We gotta fix it." He says it like it's a general statement, like collectively they're all going to do something to fix it. Jason knows it's really directed at him.