CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Reese
My body aches in places I didn't know could ache.
Every step toward the team house reminds me of last night. The bite mark on my shoulder throbs beneath my hoodie. There are fingerprint bruises on my hips, scratches down my back, and between my legs, a soreness that makes walking normally a conscious effort.
Cameron didn't claim me. But he marked me in every other way possible.
The team house looks deceptively normal for a Sunday morning. Bo's truck sits in the driveway next to Tyler's sensible Honda. Through the front window, I can see movement in the living room. My phone says 9:47 AM. Thirteen minutes early for whatever this meeting is about.
I pause at the door, running through my mental checklist. Hair down to cover the marks on my neck. Hoodie zipped high. Casual expression that says I definitely didn't spend last night coming apart on Cameron's motorcycle.
The door opens before I can knock.
"Thought I heard you," Bo says, studying my face with those too-perceptive eyes. "You okay?"
"Fine." The word comes out higher than intended. "Just tired."
His nostrils flare slightly, and I know he's scenting me. Can smell Cameron on my skin despite the shower I took this morning. But he just steps aside.
"Everyone's here."
The living room feels smaller with all eight of them scattered across furniture.
Tyler stands by the window with his tablet, looking uncharacteristically nervous.
Zane sprawls on the floor with a box of donuts, stress-eating his way through what looks like his third maple bar.
Beckett occupies one corner of the couch, tossing a tennis ball between his hands in that restless way he gets when he's anxious.
Gray sits rigid in the armchair, jaw working. Jackson leans against the arm of the couch, arms crossed. Eli stands near the window with Tyler, both of them studying something on Tyler's tablet. And Cameron...
Cameron leans against the far wall, arms crossed, expression unreadable. He's watching me, dark eyes knowing. A muscle jumps in his jaw, the only sign that last night affected him as much as it did me.
"So," Zane breaks the silence, powdered sugar dusting his shirt. "Anyone gonna tell us why we're having a team meeting without our cox?"
"She's here now," Tyler says. "We can start."
"Start what?" I move toward the only empty spot, a chair near the fireplace that puts me equal distance from everyone. Strategic positioning, my cox brain supplies automatically.
Tyler clears his throat. "I've been researching our options. Given recent... developments."
"You mean Jackson marking Reese without permission and fucking up team dynamics?" Beckett's fake-casual tone doesn't hide the edge underneath.
"I mean," Tyler continues steadily, "the fact that we're operating outside university regulations and it's only a matter of time before we're discovered."
I tense. "Tyler, we talked about keeping things quiet until after—"
"After nationals. I know." He pulls up something on his tablet. "But that was before I found this."
He turns the screen toward us. Legal documents, from what I can see. Official-looking headers and dense text.
"Paragraph 47-B of the university's designation policies," Tyler reads. "In cases where multiple individuals of compatible designations wish to form a legally recognized pack bond, they may petition for exemption from standard mixed-designation team restrictions."
Silence.
"Wait," Zane sits up, donut forgotten. "Are you saying—"
"I'm saying there's legal precedent for what we've already started becoming." Tyler's voice gains confidence, sliding into his academic comfort zone. "A formal pack bond, recognized by the university and the state, would protect us from administrative action."
"So you're bringing it to everyone," Gray says, his first words since I arrived. His tone is flat, controlled, but I catch the tension underneath. "The pack bond option."
Tyler meets his gaze steadily. "You agreed it needed to be discussed with the full team."
"I agreed to think about it." Gray's voice hardens. "This feels premature."
"It's not about what either of us wants anymore." Tyler's voice stays level. "It's about protecting ourselves. And Reese."
Everyone looks at me. I fight the urge to pull my hoodie higher, to hide the evidence of last night written across my skin.
"How would that even work?" My voice sounds surprisingly steady. "Eight Alphas and one Omega?"
"Actually, the law is quite progressive on that front." Tyler scrolls through more documents. "Pack bonds can include any configuration of designations, as long as all parties consent and meet certain compatibility requirements."
"Compatibility," Beckett laughs, but there's no humor in it. "That's one word for it."
"We're compatible on the water," Bo points out. "That's what matters for rowing."
"Is it?" Gray asks sharply. "Because from where I'm sitting, we can barely get through a practice without someone losing their shit."
"That's because we're fighting what we are," Jackson speaks for the first time, his voice cold. "A pack bond would eliminate the ambiguity. Set clear boundaries and expectations."
"You just want to legitimize marking her," Gray snaps.
"Yeah, I do." Jackson meets his stare. "Because pretending this is just about rowing is bullshit and we all know it."
"It would solve the administration problem," Eli adds quietly. "They can't sanction a legally recognized pack for mixed-designation training."
"But they could sanction us for forming a pack just to circumvent policy," Gray counters.
"Only if we admit that's why," Tyler says. "The compatibility tests, the paperwork, it's all based on biological and psychological markers. Which, given recent events, we'd pass easily."
Recent events. Like my heat. Like Jackson's claim. Like whatever primal thing happens when all eight of them are near me during practice.
"You've really thought this through," I observe.
Tyler nods. "I ran probability scenarios. Our chances of making it through nationals without exposure are approximately eighteen percent. With a formal pack bond, that jumps to eighty-seven percent."
"Those are just numbers," Gray says.
"Numbers don't lie," Tyler says.
Zane reaches for another donut, then stops. "Would this mean... we'd all be bonded? To each other?"
"The legal framework creates a family unit," Tyler explains. "It doesn't require individual bonds between every member, though those often develop naturally within established packs."
"Naturally," Beckett echoes. "Right. Because there's nothing natural about this situation."
"It’s more natural than you think," Cameron says, his first contribution to the discussion.
Everyone turns to look at him. "Pack structures in nature are about cooperation and protection of the group.
Multiple individuals contributing to the survival and success of the whole.
We've been unconsciously following that pattern for weeks. "
"We're not animals," Gray says tightly.
"No," Cameron agrees. "But we're not fighting our instincts either. We're fighting the structures that tell us our instincts are wrong."
The room falls silent again. I can feel the weight of decision pressing down on all of us. This isn't just about avoiding administrative consequences. It's about acknowledging what we've been dancing around since my first day on the team.
We're already a pack in everything but name.
"What would you all get out of it?" I ask. "A formal bond with me means restrictions. Legal obligations. You couldn't just walk away after graduation."
"Bold of you to assume we'd want to," Zane says, but his voice cracks on the last word.
"I'm in," Jackson says simply. "I've already made my choice."
"Same." Bo doesn't hesitate. "We're already acting like one. Might as well make it official."
"The logical benefits outweigh the potential drawbacks," Tyler adds, though his voice wavers slightly. He adjusts his glasses, that nervous tell I’ve been noticing more and more lately. "At least... theoretically."
"Theoretically," Gray echoes, and they exchange a look I can't quite read.
"It would make sense," Eli says, his analytical tone matching Tyler's. "The legal protection alone would be worth it. But it's a massive commitment."
"You're hesitating," Jackson observes.
"I'm being realistic." Eli's voice stays measured. "We should all be."
Cameron just nods once when I look at him. No hesitation, which I would expect after last night’s close call.
That leaves Beckett, Eli, Tyler, and Gray still undecided.
I can’t believe this is what we’ve come to.
I can’t deny that it’s the most logical choice, or that part of me absolutely wants this, but the rational side of me knows this isn’t something to rush into.
It’s essentially the nine of us getting married just so the administration can’t kick us out of the Aquatics Department, only with mate bonds, it’s even more permanent.
You don’t just divorce a mate. That’s insane, right?
But…when I think about how all eight of them make me feel, how right being with them seems even when everything is falling apart…how that instinctual part of me calls for them anytime we’re apart…
I don’t know. It seems like this it the right choice. But I can’t force it on any of them and I wouldn’t want to.
"This is insane," Beckett runs his hands through his hair. "We're talking about a lifetime commitment because of some bureaucratic—"
"It's not about the bureaucracy," Zane interrupts. "Is it? It's about the fact that we all feel it. This pull. This need to be near her, to protect her, to—" He breaks off, flushing. "Tell me I'm wrong."
Beckett can't. None of them can. I can see it on all their faces.
"Tyler?" I prompt, since he brought this to us but hasn't stated his own position.
He adjusts his glasses again. "My parents... they have expectations. Traditional ones." He glances at Gray, and I realize they've discussed this between them. "But logically, it's our best option."
"Logic isn't everything," Gray says quietly.
"No," Tyler agrees. "It's not."
"Gray?" I prompt.
Our captain stares at his hands, jaw working like he's fighting a war with himself. When he finally looks up, his eyes are storm-dark.
"My father will disown me."
Everyone knows Alexander Lockwood's reputation. Old money, older values. A son in a progressive pack bond with an Omega would be worse than death in his eyes.
"Then he's an idiot," Jackson says bluntly. "And you're better off without him."
"Easy for you to say. Your family already wrote you off."
Jackson flinches. Eli glares at Gray, along with half the others, but no one moves.
"We don't have to decide today," Tyler interjects, ever the mediator. "The paperwork takes weeks to process and she would need our bites before we could even file it all. But we should start considering what this means for each of us."
"It means everything changes," Gray says quietly. Then he huffs out a breath and slumps back in his seat, dropping his head back to stare at the ceiling. “This is insane.”
Apparently, that’s the word of the hour.
"It's not insane if it keeps us together," Zane says softly.
"Together." Gray's laugh is bitter. "We can barely manage a practice without someone losing control. You think a legal document will fix that?"
"No," I say, standing. Every muscle protests the movement, reminders of last night shooting through me. "But maybe stopping pretending might."
Gray's eyes narrow. "Meaning?"
"Meaning we're already feeling the pull. Fighting it is what's tearing us apart." I look at each of them. "Tyler's right. The numbers don't lie. But neither does what's happening between us."
"So you want this?" Gray demands. "A pack bond with eight Alphas?"
I think about Jackson's bite still fresh under my collar. Bo ready to throw hands with anyone who looks at me wrong. Eli three steps ahead of everyone else. Zane's stress baking that's gotten out of control. Tyler's quiet calculations. Beckett pretending he doesn't care when he obviously does.
And Cameron. Cameron who almost knotted me last night but held back.
"I want to stop pretending this is just about rowing," I say finally. "The rest... we figure out together. Like an actual pack would."
"Assuming we all agree," Gray says.
"Yeah." I meet his gaze directly. "Assuming that."
"I need time," Gray says. "This isn't a decision to make lightly."
"None of us should make it lightly," Tyler agrees. "But we also can't afford to wait too long. The investigation is intensifying. Our behavioral changes at practice aren't going unnoticed."
"How long do we have?" Beckett asks.
"Realistically? Torres is about to file her report and Kinsley keeps escalating whatever she’s doing to get back in Gray’s pants. We likely have days before something forces our hand."
Days to decide if we're going to formalize what's already happening. To figure out if eight Alphas and one Omega can make something unprecedented work. To decide to legally bind our lives to eight other people for the rest of our lives.
The decision, the investigation, everything Kinsley is doing. It’s too much to process in this room with everyone watching.
"I should go," I say, suddenly needing space to think. "Before practice. I need to process all this."
"I'll walk you," Cameron says, pushing off the wall.
"I don't need—"
"You can barely walk straight," he says bluntly. Everyone looks at me. "Someone should go with you."
"He's right," Bo agrees, though his expression says he knows exactly why I'm walking funny. "Take backup. Until we get the Kinsley situation under control. If she’s escalating, she might become unpredictable."
“She’s not a psychopath,” Gray groans, but he immediately holds his hands up in surrender when seven other males glare at him for defending the bitch. “Sorry,” he mumbles.
I nod, exhaustion hitting me all at once. The meeting, the revelations, the weight of decision—it's too much on top of everything that happened with Cameron last night.
"One week," I say to the room at large. "We maybe have one week to decide."
"We'll figure it out," Zane says, but it sounds more like a question than a statement.
But as Cameron escorts me out, his hand careful at the small of my back, I catch Gray's expression in the window's reflection. He looks like he's about to puke.
He's not the only one.
My phone buzzes as we reach the driveway.
Quinton: Library at 2? That economics project won't write itself
I type back quickly: Can't today. Team stuff
His response is immediate: More team stuff? You guys are intense lately. Rain check?
Me: Sure
I pocket my phone, but something about his observation sits wrong. We are intense lately. And he's noticing. Everyone is, it seems.
"Everything okay?" Cameron asks quietly.
"Yeah. Just Quinton wanting to study."
Cameron's jaw tightens slightly, but he doesn't comment.
One week to decide our future. One week before everything either comes together or falls completely apart.