chapter TWENTY-FOUR
Jackson
I know what's happening before anyone else.
The scent hits me as we prepare for finals. What was subtle during our qualifying heat has intensified, like sunshine warming honey, barely masked beneath the failing clinical suppressants. It threads through the air around Reese as she reviews race strategy with Gray and the coaches.
My body recognizes it before my brain does, muscles tensing involuntarily, pulse quickening in response. I move away, putting distance between us, fighting against instincts honed through years of painful experience.
Not again. Not here.
Eli catches my abrupt retreat, his analytical gaze tracking between me and Reese with quick understanding. He crosses to me, voice low.
"You detected it?"
I nod once, jaw clenched tight. "How long?"
"Tyler's emergency injection is breaking down faster than calculated. Full breakthrough within the hour. Potentially during the race."
"She shouldn't be in the boat." The words come out harsh and cruel before I can stop them.
"She's the reason we're in finals."
"She's also about to trigger eight Alphas in the middle of the most important race of the season." I grab my water bottle, crushing it slightly in my grip. "After what happened at Hampton Hills—"
"This isn't Hampton Hills." Eli's voice stays measured, reasonable. "And Reese isn't Meredith."
"Don't."
"You brought it up."
"I can’t do this right now."
I walk away before he can continue, needing space, air not tainted with the increasingly distracting scent of an Omega approaching heat.
Three years of careful avoidance, of maintaining control, of keeping unbonded Omegas at a safe distance.
All threatened by one stubborn coxswain who refuses to acknowledge what's happening.
The boathouse area buzzes with pre-race activity as teams prepare for finals.
Officials check schedules, coaches deliver last-minute instructions, athletes move through warm-up routines with intense focus.
Through it all, I keep my senses tuned to Reese, tracking her location, monitoring the progression of her condition.
She knows what's happening. The tight control in her movements, the forced calm in her voice, the way she maintains precise distance from every Alpha on the team. She's fighting it with everything she has.
"Reed." Gray's voice cuts through my thoughts. "Everything alright?"
I turn to find our captain watching me with narrowed eyes. "Fine."
"You seem distracted."
If only he knew. We stand upwind from Reese, not yet in range to detect what I can already sense. But it's only a matter of time.
"Just focused on the race," I reply, the lie bitter on my tongue.
Gray studies me a moment longer. "We need everyone locked in. Whatever's bothering you—"
"It's handled."
He doesn't believe me. His expression makes that clear, but he also knows pushing will get him nowhere. Not with me.
"Team meeting in five," he says instead. "Don't be late."
As he walks away, I spot Reese slipping away from the group, moving toward a quiet area behind the equipment tent. She looks pale, shaky, the effects of the morning's qualifying race and her failing medication taking their toll.
I should warn Gray. Should tell Coach. Should prevent the potential disaster brewing.
Instead, I find myself moving toward her, drawn by some impulse I don't fully understand.
She tenses as I approach, clearly scenting me before seeing me. When she turns, her eyes widen with something between fear and resignation.
"Reed."
"You're going into heat."
No point dancing around it. The flush in her cheeks deepens, but she doesn't deny it.
"I can handle it," she says, voice steady despite everything.
"That's what they all say."
The bitterness in my tone makes her eyes narrow. "I'm not like whoever hurt you before."
Her perceptiveness catches me off guard. I hadn't realized how transparent my past was.
"No, you're not." I take a step closer, needing her to understand. "But you’re putting the whole team at risk with this gamble of yours."
"I'm not risking anyone." Her chin lifts, defiance flashing through fatigue. "Tyler's extra dose should help mine hold through finals."
"You're lying to yourself."
"Am I?" She steps forward, closing the distance between us. "Or are you projecting your fears onto me because of what happened before?"
The directness of her challenge startles me. Few people dare confront me so bluntly, especially about Hampton Hills.
"This isn't about me."
"Isn't it?" Her blue-green eyes hold mine, unflinching despite her increasingly precarious condition. "You've been expecting me to fail from day one. Waiting for history to repeat itself."
"I've been protecting the team."
"From what? From me?" She shakes her head. "I'm not a threat, Jackson. I'm your coxswain."
"You're an Omega in pre-heat about to be locked in a narrow shell with eight unbonded Alphas." I lower my voice, aware of potential eavesdroppers. "If your scent breaks through fully during the race—"
"It won't," she interrupts. "And even if it did, I trust this team. I trust you."
The simple statement knocks me off balance. "You shouldn't."
"Why not? Because of your past?"
I clench my jaw. "You don't know anything about my past."
"I know enough." She looks away briefly, then meets my gaze again. "I know something happened at your previous school. I know there was an Omega involved. I know you transferred here afterward."
"Ancient history."
"Not to you." Her voice softens slightly. "It still defines your every interaction with me."
She's not wrong, but I'm not ready to admit it. Not here, not now, with her scent growing stronger by the minute and the most important race of the season so far approaching.
"This isn't the time," I say, taking a step back.
"When is the time? After the race, when everyone finds out anyway? When it's too late to change anything?"
The frustration in her voice mirrors my own internal conflict. She's right, but she's also wrong. The timing couldn't be worse, but the truth can't stay hidden much longer.
"One race," she continues, voice dropping lower. "That's all I'm asking. Let me get this team through finals. If you want to get rid of me after that..." She trails off, unable or unwilling to complete the thought.
I study her, this woman who commands eight men twice her size with nothing but her voice and her will.
The determination in her eyes despite the biological tide rising within her.
The sheer stubborn courage it takes to stand before me, an Alpha who's made his distrust clear from day one, and ask for trust.
"And if I sense you losing control during the race?" I challenge.
"Then you'll do what needs to be done," she says simply. "As a member of this team."
The quiet confidence in her voice settles something in me. Not all the churning doubts, not the memories that still haunt me, but enough to make a decision.
"Okay." I nod once. "One race. But Reese..." I use her first name deliberately, ensuring she understands the gravity of what I'm saying. "I can already scent you. It's only a matter of time before the others do too."
She swallows hard. "How long do you think I have?"
"Based on current progression? Maybe an hour. Hour and a half at most."
Relief flickers across her features. "The race should be over by then."
"Should be." I don't sugarcoat it. "But if it's not, if something delays us, or if your body processes the drugs faster due to stress…"
"I understand the risks." She straightens her shoulders. "I'm still asking for this chance."
Before I can respond, Zane's voice calls from around the corner: "Team meeting, guys!"
Reese gives me a questioning look. I nod once, a silent agreement to her request.
"Thank you," she says quietly before turning to head back to the team.
I remain behind for a moment, collecting myself. The scent of her lingers in the air, growing more distinct by the minute. My body responds to it instinctively. Heightened awareness, quickened pulse, a warmth spreading through my core.
Nothing I can't control. Nothing I haven't managed before.
But as I follow her back to the team area, dark memories of Hampton Hills shadow each step. Of another Omega coxswain whose heat triggered events that shattered a team. Of promises made and broken. Of a bond formed and severed, leaving scars deeper than physical ones.
The team is gathered around Coach Bennett when I arrive.
Bo gives me a questioning look that I ignore, taking position at the edge of the circle, as far from Reese as possible without being obvious.
Cameron stands directly across from me, his slate eyes tracking my movement before shifting to Reese.
A muscle in his jaw ticks slightly. He's noticed too, then.
"Finals are thirty minutes out," Coach says, unaware of the currents shifting between his athletes. "Conditions have deteriorated slightly. Wind picking up, light rain expected during the race. This favors us. We've practiced in worse."
Gray nods in agreement, entirely focused on race strategy. If he's noticed anything unusual about Reese, he gives no indication. Beside him, Eli maintains his analytical calm, though his eyes occasionally flick toward Reese with calculation evident in his expression.
"Callahan will review the final race plan," Coach continues, gesturing for her to take center position.
She steps forward, race notebook in hand, every movement controlled and precise despite what must be happening inside her body. Her voice remains steady as she outlines our strategy, emphasizing the modifications for wind conditions and the critical turn at 1500 meters.
To anyone who doesn't know what to look for, she appears entirely normal. To me, the signs are increasingly obvious. The flush creeping up her neck, the slight shine to her skin, the almost imperceptible tremor in her hands when she points to the course map.
"Questions?" she concludes, glancing around the circle.
No one speaks. Maybe they don't notice. Maybe they do but are too professional to mention it. Either way, we're committed now.
"Good." Coach Bennett takes over again. "Launch in twenty minutes. Standard warm-up routine. Save something for the final sprint. This is going to be tight all the way."
The team breaks apart to complete final preparations. I turn to grab my water bottle when a hand touches my arm lightly. Reese stands beside me, her voice pitched for my ears only.
"Thank you."
I nod once, uncomfortable with gratitude I haven't earned. "Don't make me regret it."
"I won't." She holds my gaze for a moment, something unspoken passing between us, before moving away to consult with Coach Wilder.
As I watch her go, Bo sidles up beside me, his usual easygoing expression replaced with concern.
"You alright?" he asks quietly. "You look like you're about to jump out of your skin."
"I'm fine."
He studies me, unconvinced. "Something's off with you. Has been since we got here."
"Just focused on the race."
"Right." His tone makes it clear he doesn't believe me. "And it has nothing to do with how you keep watching Callahan like she's about to spontaneously combust?"
My head snaps toward him. "What?"
"You're not subtle, Reed." He keeps his voice low, ensuring privacy. "What's going on? Something I should know about before we get on the water?"
I consider telling him everything. Bo is the team protector, the one who holds us together when things fall apart. If anyone should know what's coming, it's him.
But it's not my secret to tell. Not my trust to break.
"Ask me after the race," I say finally.
He frowns, clearly wanting to push further, but nods reluctantly. "Fair enough. But if something affects this team, I need to know. That's my job."
"I know."
He claps me on the shoulder once before moving away to help with final equipment checks. The brief contact grounds me, reminding me of who we are. A team, a unit, eight men who've trained together for years. Whatever happens next, we face it together.
The countdown to launch begins. Cameron and Eli check the boat one last time while Zane leads the team through a quick stretching routine. Through it all, I keep a careful distance from Reese, monitoring her condition from a distance.
Her scent grows stronger by increments, still masked enough that only the most sensitive would detect it. Me, and possibly Cameron. But the clock is ticking. By the time we cross the finish line, her meds will be reaching their limit.
"Hands on," she calls, her cox voice cutting through my thoughts. "Ready to lift."
The boat rises in perfect unison, our collective focus narrowing to the task at hand. I push everything else aside. The concerns, the memories, the biological responses I can't entirely control. For now, there is only the race. The water. The next stroke.
One last chance to prove ourselves.
One last race with Reese Callahan at the helm.
Whatever comes after, we'll face it when we reach the shore.