CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Reese
The living room goes dead silent when Beckett and I walk in hand-in-hand.
Seven pairs of eyes drop straight to our fingers, then up to my neck. The bite is obvious. Opposite Jackson’s. No hoodie or hair flip is going to hide it.
“Well, shit,” Zane says finally. “That escalated quickly.”
Gray’s voice cuts through the silence. Low. Controlled. Dangerous. “Beckett. What the fuck did you do?”
Beckett meets his stare without flinching. “What does it look like?”
Jackson pushes off the wall where he’d been leaning. His eyes go straight to the bite, his jaw tight. “You claimed her.”
“Yeah,” Beckett says simply. “I did.”
The tension spikes. Bo leans forward on his knees like he’s trying to piece together the fallout before it hits.
Cameron’s jaw flexes hard, like he’s chewing gravel.
Tyler’s already typing furiously on his tablet, calculating odds or maybe drafting our obituary.
Eli just looks tired, like this was inevitable and he’s over it.
“You knotted her too,” Cameron says quietly. Everyone swivels toward him. His expression doesn’t change. “I can smell it.”
Beckett doesn’t move. Doesn’t apologize. Doesn’t deny it.
Gray stands so fast the chair legs screech against the floor. “We needed more time—”
A knock at the door slices his words off. Sharp. Deliberate.
Nobody breathes.
“Probably just Jehovah’s Witnesses,” Zane mutters, but even he sounds unconvinced.
The knock comes again, louder.
Gray stalks to the door, every muscle in his body tight. He yanks it open.
And freezes.
“Hello, boys.” Kinsley’s voice is sweet and poisonous at the same time. She steps past Gray like she owns the place, eyes scanning the room until they lock on me. On my neck. Her smile sharpens. “Oh, this is perfect.”
“Get out,” Gray says flatly.
“In a minute.” She pulls her phone from her pocket, camera already open, and snaps a photo before anyone can react. Beckett instinctively steps in front of me, but it’s too late. She got it. My fresh claim mark front and center.
Her thumb swipes across the screen. “That’ll look great attached to the email I just sent.”
“What email?” Tyler demands, his voice tight.
“The one to the faculty oversight committee,” she says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “About suspected inappropriate bonding between teammates and a certain Omega who shouldn’t even be here. And now…” She waves her phone. “…I’ve got proof.”
“You fucking—” Jackson starts forward, but Eli’s hand clamps down on his arm.
“Kinsley.” Gray’s voice could freeze fire. “Whatever you think you’re pulling—”
She cuts him off with a laugh, brittle and sharp. “I’m pulling exactly what I wanted. Getting her out.”
Something hot and ugly snaps inside me. “Gray is never going to take you back after this!”
The words tear out before I can stop them. The room goes still.
Kinsley’s smile doesn’t falter. “I know. But he won’t have you either. Works for me.”
The cruelty lands like a gut punch.
“You’re tanking the whole team over jealousy?” Bo blurts, disbelief in his tone.
“I’m exposing rule violations,” she says with a shrug. “The fact that it ruins her is just a bonus.”
“Get. Out.” Gray steps toward her, voice flat with fury.
“Gladly.” She heads for the door, then pauses, tossing a look over her shoulder. “Oh—and don’t bother trying to scrub evidence this time. We won’t be making that mistake again. You’re stuck with the consequences now.”
Cameron straightens, his voice sharp. “We?”
But the door is already slamming behind her.
The word hangs there, poisonous.
“We,” Tyler repeats, pale. “She said we.”
“She’s not working alone,” Cameron says. “Somebody’s helping her.”
“Andrea,” I spit before I can stop myself. “From Westlake. She’s the one who started all this anyway and they’ve been so close throughout all this. We knew after what happened at my dorm that Kinsley was getting help from someone and with how close those two have been, it has to be her.”
“Yeah, that tracks,” Zane mutters. “Two bitter exes linking up.”
“They’re not exes,” I snap. “Andrea was never with Gray. She dated my ex, Andrew. But she clearly holds a grudge."
“Great,” Gray says flatly. “So we’re dealing with a tag team.”
As if on cue, phones buzz across the room—Gray’s, then Tyler’s, then mine, then everyone’s, one after another like dominoes falling.
I pull mine out, heart already sinking.
Subject: Mandatory Team Meeting – Tomorrow 8 AM
From: Athletics Oversight Committee
All members of the men’s varsity crew team are required to attend an emergency session regarding potential policy violations. Failure to attend will result in immediate suspension from competition.
Location: Administration Building, Room 401
Tyler exhales sharply. “Room 401. Fourth floor of Admin. That’s where they hold the serious meetings.”
Zane looks at him. “How do you know that?”
“My advisor told me,” Tyler says without looking up. “Said if you ever get called up there, bring a lawyer.”
“They can’t prove anything,” Zane says quickly, but it sounds like he’s trying to convince himself more than anyone else.
“They have photos of two claim marks,” Gray cuts in. “They have Kinsley’s testimony. Andrea’s backing. That’s plenty.”
“So what do we do?” Eli asks, voice quiet.
Everyone looks at me.
The Omega at the center of the storm. The problem they can’t hide anymore. I should’ve left. Should’ve never done this stupid thing. But now I’m here and I don’t know how to fix this.
I swallow. “We tell the truth.”
Gray shakes his head immediately. “Reese—”
“No.” My voice is steady even though my hands aren’t. “I’m done hiding. Done letting people like Kinsley and Andrea write the story for me. I fucked up, but maybe we can make it work. Tomorrow, we tell them exactly what we are.”
“And what are we, exactly?” Tyler asks, eyes darting between us.
I meet his gaze. “A pack. Not officially filed, not fully bonded, but a pack in the making. Two claims already. More pending. That’s not illegal.”
“It is if you lied to get on the team,” Gray counters.
“I didn’t.” My voice is sharp. “My dad changed my registration to Undifferentiated. Suppressants kept me stable before I turned eighteen. That’s legal.”
Tyler scrolls furiously, brow furrowed. “Technically true. The handbook says athletes have to disclose their known designation. If suppressants made yours unreadable…” He trails off, frowning harder. “It’s vague. Could go either way.”
“So we don’t actually know if I broke a rule,” I say.
“Pretty much.” Tyler doesn’t look up. “And the committee gets to ‘interpret’ vague however they want.”
“The claim marks though,” Gray presses.
“They prove we’re in a relationship. That’s against team policy,” I say. “So either we admit we’re forming a pack—protected under law—or you cut me loose.”
“No.” Jackson’s voice is immediate, hard. “Not happening.”
“We’re not a pack yet,” Gray says.
“Aren’t we?” Beckett chimes in, still holding my hand. “Because it sure as hell feels like one. We’ve been protecting each other, covering for each other, bleeding together. What do you call that if not a pack?”
Tyler shakes his head. “Paperwork takes months—”
“Declaring intent doesn’t,” Beckett shoots back. “We walk in tomorrow and tell them we’re in the process. That Reese is ours. That we’re doing it legal, above board.”
“They’ll still bench her,” Gray says.
“Then we don’t row without her.” Bo finally speaks, voice calm, certain. “All nine or none.”
The room freezes.
“You’d throw the season?” Gray asks, incredulous.
“I’d throw the season before I threw her,” Bo replies.
Nobody knows what to say.
The silence stretches, thick and heavy.
“We have to decide tonight,” I say. My voice is quiet, but it cuts through. “Tomorrow morning, we walk in there as a pack, or I go in there and tell them I’m leaving the university.”
"Obviously I'm not abandoning you," Jackson says immediately. "I already claimed you."
"Same reasoning," Beckett adds, squeezing my hand.
Cameron nods once. Eli says, "I mean, we're basically fucked either way, so might as well go down together."
That leaves Tyler, Zane, Gray, and Bo to declare.
"I need to think," Gray says.
“Same,” Tyler agrees, his eyes already back on his screen.
Zane's just standing there, looking sick. Bo hasn't said anything since his suggestion about refusing to compete.
One by one, they peel off, leaving me and Beckett standing in the wreckage of the conversation.
I catch the look that passes between Gray and Tyler before they go upstairs—family pressure carved into their spines, the kind of weight that crushes loyalty flat.
The choice that Kinsley has forced us to make before any of us were ready to.
Tomorrow morning at 8 AM, the committee will be waiting.
And we’ll be there together or not at all.
And I can’t tell, standing in the quiet aftermath, which way we’ll break.