chapter FIFTEEN
Reese
I t's been raining for two days straight.
Gray has driven us harder than ever through the downpour, determined to shave every possible second off our time before Riverside.
Morning and afternoon practices, ergometer sessions, video analysis of previous races – all while I've been trying to avoid Kinsley's friends and hide the bruises they left on my wrist and arm when they cornered me outside class.
I'm exhausted and soaked as I walk back from the evening strategy session, the steady rain showing no signs of letting up.
The campus is quiet, most students have already retreated to libraries or dorms to stay dry.
Three days until Riverside. Three days until my trial period ends.
And exactly four suppressant pills left in my emergency stash.
The math isn't in my favor.
I'm halfway back to my dorm when I hear the motorcycle.
The low rumble is unmistakable, even before headlights sweep across the rain-slicked path behind me. I keep walking, pretending not to notice as Cameron pulls alongside, engine idling.
"Get on," he says without preamble, holding out the spare helmet.
"I'm fine," I reply, not breaking stride.
"You're soaked."
"It's just water."
"Reese." Something in his voice makes me stop and look at him. "Please."
The "please" surprises me. I've never heard Cameron Blake say it before. Even after three days of keeping my distance, trying to process what happened between us in the lake, he still has this effect on me, breaking through my carefully constructed walls with a single word.
I take the helmet with a sigh of surrender.
"Where are we going?" I ask as I climb on behind him.
"Somewhere quiet."
His body is warm against the evening chill as we pull away from campus.
I hold on tighter than necessary, grateful for the excuse to press against him.
My mind should be on the threatening note I found in my dorm three days ago.
On my dwindling supply of suppressants. On Riverside and all the ways my world could implode in the next four days.
Instead, all I can think about is the solid feel of his muscles beneath my hands and the memory of his lips on mine.
We bypass my dorm, heading toward the lake. For a moment I think he's taking me back to our secret beach, but he turns onto the road leading to the boathouse instead. The building sits dark and silent, the team's evening practice equipment already stored for the night.
Cameron pulls around to the maintenance entrance at the back, kills the engine, and produces a key I didn't know existed.
"How did you get that?" I ask as he unlocks the door.
"Coach gave it to me last year. For extra training."
The maintenance area is small but dry, housing tools and spare parts for boat repairs. Cameron flips on a single light, casting the space in shadows. An old space heater sits in the corner, which he switches on immediately.
"That sweater needs to come off," he says, practical rather than suggestive. "You'll freeze."
He's right. The fabric is soaked through, clinging uncomfortably to my skin. Cameron turns his back without being asked, giving me privacy as he rummages through a storage cabinet.
I peel off the wet sweater, standing in just my bra and jeans, shivering slightly in the cool air. The bruises on my wrist stand out starkly under the bare bulb light, along with a matching set on my upper arm that I've kept carefully hidden.
"Here," Cameron says, still facing away. He holds out what looks like team merchandise, a Sable Ridge Rowing hoodie that would be oversized even on him.
"Thanks." I pull it on quickly, the dry fabric a relief against my chilled skin. "You can turn around now."
Cameron turns around, and I take a moment to really look at him.
In the dim light of the maintenance room, his features seem even more striking than usual.
High cheekbones, strong jaw, and those slate gray eyes that miss nothing.
His raven-black hair, always slightly too long, falls across his forehead when he moves, giving him a predatory appearance that's both intimidating and magnetic.
The tattoos peeking out from under his shirt sleeve just add to the allure.
At six-foot-three, he towers over me, but unlike Gray's broad-shouldered bulk or Bo's powerful frame, Cameron's body is all sinewy strength with whipcord muscles built for endurance and speed rather than raw power. It suits his position in the bow, where accuracy matters more than brute force.
What always catches me off guard is his mouth, surprisingly full lips that seem at odds with his otherwise severe features. Lips that I now know can curve into the rarest of smiles, and can kiss with both unexpected gentleness and searing heat.
His eyes track over my face and down my body, immediately landing on my wrist where the sleeve has pulled back. His expression darkens.
"Who did that?" he asks, voice deadly quiet.
I tug the sleeve down. "It's nothing."
"Doesn't look like nothing." He steps closer, reaches for my hand but stops short of touching me. "May I?"
The request, so careful, so unlike the demanding Alphas I'm used to, makes my defenses waver. I extend my arm, allowing him to gently push up the sleeve.
His fingers trace the edge of the bruise, touch feather-light. Five distinct fingermarks wrap around my wrist, deep purple against pale skin. His eyes lift to mine, question clear.
"Olivia and Madison," I admit. "Kinsley's friends."
"When?"
"Two days ago. After morning practice."
I don't tell him about how they were waiting in the stairwell of my building, how they backed me into a corner, how Olivia held me still while Madison delivered Kinsley's "message.
" I don't mention the other bruises hidden beneath the oversized hoodie.
And I definitely don't tell him about the note they left afterward.
But I see his eyes track to my upper arm where the fabric bunches oddly over another bruise.
"There's more," he says like he already knows.
I swallow hard. "It's handled."
"Is it?" His voice stays calm, but his scent shifts, takes on the sharp edge of Alpha anger. "Doesn't look handled to me."
"They wanted to scare me. I didn't. End of story."
He studies me for a long moment. "You could report them."
I laugh, the sound bitter even to my ears. "For what? Mean girl behavior? Besides, any investigation would mean scrutiny I can't afford."
"Because of your designation."
"Because of everything," I say, suddenly tired of carrying so many secrets. "They know what I am, Cameron. That second note they left... it was specifically about Riverside."
His body tenses. "What did it say?"
I hesitate, then decide he deserves the truth. At least part of it.
"It said to stay away from Riverside or everyone learns I'm an Omega."
Cameron's eyes darken to near-black. His hands clench at his sides, but when he speaks, his voice remains controlled. "They're threatening you because Kinsley sees you as an obstacle to her getting Gray back."
"Exactly."
"But you're still planning to go."
"Of course I am." I lift my chin. "I didn't come this far to be intimidated by Kinsley Adams and her minions."
His approval shouldn't matter, but when I see it in his eyes, something inside me releases just a tiny bit. "You should have told someone. Gray. Bo. They would—"
"They would what? Confront Kinsley? Start an inter-team war that would only draw more attention to me?" I shake my head. "I need to handle this quietly."
"By yourself."
"It's safer that way."
He takes a step closer. "Is it? You're already hurt. They've threatened you. What happens next time?"
"There won't be a next time." I wrap my arms around myself. "I made it very clear what would happen if they tried again."
What I don't say is how I'd grabbed Madison's perfect blonde ponytail and whispered exactly what I'd do to her if she came near me again.
How I'd made sure Olivia understood that I knew about her doping violation last year that got swept under the rug.
How I'd learned to fight dirty growing up with two Alpha brothers who never took it easy on me.
Cameron moves to the space heater, adjusts it, then gestures for me to come closer. I hesitate, then move beside him, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from both the heater and his body.
"Why didn't you tell me?" he asks quietly. "After that night at the lake. When we texted."
"You'd already seen enough of my secrets," I reply. "I didn't want to add another."
"That's not how this works."
"How what works?"
He looks down at me, eyes serious. "Whatever this is between us."
My heart trips over itself. "And what is it, exactly?"
"You tell me." His gaze is steady, unflinching. "You're the one who kissed me."
Heat that has nothing to do with the space heater floods my body. "Momentary lapse in judgment."
"Still lying."
"Fine." I exhale slowly. "I wanted to. I still want to."
"But?"
"But it's complicated. I'm complicated."
"Life is complicated." He doesn't move toward me. Doesn't reach for me. Just stands there, patient, waiting for me to decide. "I've accepted that."
I step closer, tilting my face up to his. "Yes."
"Yes what?"
"Yes, I want to kiss you again."
His hand lifts to my face, thumb tracing my cheekbone with surprising gentleness. "So what's stopping you?"
Nothing. Nothing at all.
I rise onto my toes, pressing my lips to his. Unlike our first kiss in the lake, there's no hesitation now. His mouth moves against mine with purpose, with heat, with a hunger that matches my own. His hand slides into my hair, cradling the back of my head as he deepens the kiss.
I press closer, wanting to feel more of him, to lose myself in the solid security of his body. His arm wraps around my waist, drawing me against him until there's no space left between us.
The kiss turns deeper, hungrier. His tongue meets mine, exploring, tasting, claiming. I make a small sound in the back of my throat that seems to break something loose in him. In one fluid motion, he lifts me, turns us, and presses me gently against the wall beside the heater.
With my back to the wall and his body pinning me in place, I should feel trapped. Instead, I feel safe. Protected. Free to let go of the control I cling to so desperately.
My phone buzzes against my hip, vibrating insistently. I ignore it, lost in the feeling of Cameron's mouth on mine, his hands gripping my waist. It buzzes again. And again.
"You should check that," he murmurs against my lips, though he doesn't pull away.
I fumble for my phone, not wanting to break contact. Three missed calls from Gray. Two texts:
Emergency team meeting. Now.
Something's happened. Get to the house immediately.
"Shit." I show Cameron the screen. "Gray's calling an emergency meeting."
His expression sharpens instantly, the predator in him surfacing. "That's not good."
"No, it's not." I check the time. "It's almost ten PM. What kind of emergency—"
My phone rings again. Gray's name on the display.
I answer immediately. "What's wrong?"
"Where are you?" His voice is tight, controlled in the way it gets when he's barely holding back panic.
"Off campus. With Cameron. What's happened?"
"Someone got into your dorm room. Your RA called me because I'm listed as your emergency contact for the team." The words hit like ice water. "Reese, they went through your things. Left another note."
My knees go weak. Cameron's arm tightens around me, supporting me as the implications crash over me.
"How bad?" I manage.
"They rifled through your desk, your closet. Nothing's damaged, but they were clearly looking for something. And there's a note on your pillow."
"What does it say?"
A pause. Then: "Last warning. Stay away from Riverside or everyone finds out what you really are."
The world tilts. This isn't just harassment anymore. This is escalation. This is someone willing to commit actual crimes to drive me away.
"Reese?" Gray's voice cuts through my panic. "Are you there?"
"I'm here." I force my voice to stay steady. "We're coming back now."
"Security wants to talk to you. And Reese? Pack a bag. You're not staying in that room tonight."
The line goes dead. I stare at my phone, mind reeling.
"Talk to me," Cameron says, voice gentle but urgent.
I tell him what Gray said, watching his expression grow darker with each detail.
"This isn't random," he says when I finish. "Someone's watching you. Monitoring your movements. They knew you weren't in your room tonight."
"Kinsley." The name tastes like poison. "She's escalating because Riverside is so close. Because she knows I won't back down."
"Which means she's desperate." Cameron's hands frame my face. "Desperate people do dangerous things."
"I know." I lean into his touch, drawing strength from his steady presence. "But I'm not running. I'm not letting her win."
"Then we handle this together." He presses a quick kiss to my forehead. "All of us. As a team."
Something warm blooms in my chest despite the fear. "You mean that?"
"I mean that." His thumb traces my lower lip. "Whatever's coming, you're not facing it alone."
As we head back to campus on his motorcycle, the cool night air rushing past us, I make a decision. I'm done being reactive. Done letting Kinsley and her friends dictate my choices through fear and intimidation.
It's time to take control of this situation. Time to show them exactly what happens when you corner an Omega who's learned to fight back.
By the time we reach the team house, I have a plan forming. It's risky, potentially dangerous. But it's also the only way to end this before it escalates further.
Time to stop running and start hunting.