CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Reese
The water at Lake Hartwell is perfect. Glass smooth, no wind, the kind of conditions rowers dream about. We're in lane four, dead center, with Northridge to our left and Hampton Hills to our right.
"Hands on," I call through the cox box, my voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through me.
Eight pairs of hands grip oars. Eight bodies coiled with potential energy. My pack, ready to prove to everyone that what we have makes us stronger, not weaker.
"Sit ready."
They square their blades, bodies compressed forward. Gray in stroke seat, setting the rhythm. Bo behind him, our powerhouse. All the way down to Cameron in bow, each one exactly where they need to be.
The starting official raises his flag. My heart pounds, but my voice remains calm. This is what we were made for.
"Row!"
We explode off the line. Ten strokes at maximum pressure, bodies moving in perfect synchronization. The boat surges beneath us, that beautiful feeling when everything clicks.
"Settle in two... one... settle!"
We drop to race pace, thirty-six strokes per minute, sustainable but aggressive. Northridge jumps out to an early lead, but I'm not worried. We have two thousand meters to make our statement.
"Length on Hampton Hills," I report, watching the other crews in my peripheral vision. "Even with Northridge. You've got this, boys. Long and strong."
Five hundred meters in, we're moving through Northridge. The connection in the boat is unlike anything I've felt before. It's more than technical perfection. It's eight Alphas rowing for their Omega, and everyone can feel it.
"Moving on Northridge, two seats up!"
Gray's stroke rate is metronomic, perfect. Behind him, Bo powers through each stroke with controlled intensity. Jackson's form is flawless, Eli's timing precise. Tyler's calculating our split times in his head, I know, while Cameron keeps us balanced with subtle adjustments.
"Thousand meters! Open water on the field!"
We're flying. The boat sings through the water, that distinctive sound when everything is perfectly balanced. This is what we're capable of when we stop fighting ourselves.
"Five hundred to go! They're coming back, but they can't catch you. This is ours!"
Hampton Hills makes a move, their stroke rate jumping. Northridge responds. But we don't panic. We trust each other, trust the rhythm, trust what we've built.
"Final twenty! Everything you have! For Sable Ridge!"
They empty the tank. Eight bodies moving as one, pulling with everything they have left. The finish line rushes toward us, and I'm screaming into the cox box.
"Ten more! Drive! Drive! DRIVE!"
We cross the line a full boat length ahead.
The official time comes over the announcer: "Lane four, Sable Ridge University, six minutes, eighteen seconds. A new course record!"
The boat erupts. Oars slap the water in celebration. Zane actually whoops. Even Jackson is grinning. We didn't just win. We demolished the competition and set a record doing it.
"Holy shit," Beckett gasps between breaths. "We actually did it."
"Paddle it in," I manage to say, though I'm grinning so hard my face hurts. "Nice and easy."
We row back to the dock where Coach Bennett waits, and for the first time in weeks, he's actually smiling.
"That," he says as we approach, "is what you're capable of when you row as a unit."
The dock is chaos. Other teams are launching for later races, but everyone stops to watch us. We just shattered a course record that's stood for eight years. As a mixed-designation crew under investigation. While preparing to form an eight-way pack bond.
We've made our statement.
As we lift the boat from the water, careful hands steadying the shell, I catch Gray's eye. He nods once, a silent acknowledgment. We're really doing this. All of it.
"Next race in two hours," Coach Bennett announces. "Rest, hydrate, stay warm."
The morning flies by in a blur of hard-fought races.
We win the open eight by half a length after a brutal sprint.
Take the championship eight by three seats in a race that has us all gasping.
By the time we line up for the final race of the day - the grand final that determines the overall regatta winner - we're undefeated but exhausted.
"Last one," I tell them as we settle into the starting blocks. "Win this and we've swept the regatta."
"When we win this," Gray corrects.
The final is our best race yet. We win by a length and a half, pulling away in the last 500 meters when the other crews have nothing left.
The announcer can barely contain his excitement as he calls our time - just two seconds off the course record, remarkable given how many races we've already rowed today.
Back at the dock after our victory lap, the team is electric with energy.
"Reese!" Zane calls out, and before I can respond, eight sets of hands grab me.
"No!" I shriek, but I'm laughing. "Don't you dare—"
They toss me into the lake.
The water is freezing, but I come up laughing, pushing wet hair from my face. It's tradition—cox gets thrown in after winning the whole regatta. They're treating me like I belong. Like I'm really theirs.
Jackson extends a hand to pull me out, and when I take it, he doesn't immediately let go. His dark eyes hold mine for a moment, something shifting in their depths.
"You were perfect out there," he says quietly.
Before I can respond, he leans down and kisses me. Right there on the dock, in front of everyone. It's gentle but sure, his hand cupping my face like I'm something precious.
When he pulls back, Eli is there, eyes warm with approval. "Our turn to stop hiding," he says, then kisses my forehead with surprising tenderness.
Zane bounces over, wrapping me in a wet hug that lifts me off my feet. "Knew you could do it, Cox!" He sets me down but keeps an arm around my shoulders.
Even Cameron approaches, normally so careful about public displays. He takes my hand, squeezes it, a silent promise of things to come.
We're standing there, all nine of us tangled together in various forms of contact, when I hear it. A voice that makes my blood freeze.
"What the hell is this?"
I turn to find my parents standing twenty feet away. Mother's face is pale with shock. Father looks murderous.
But they're not alone. Harrison and Helena Lockwood stand beside them, equally stunned. The four of them must have planned to watch the race together. Of course they did.
"Reese Catherine Callahan," my father's voice cuts through the celebration like a blade. "Step away from them. Now."
I don't move. Can't move. The team shifts closer, protective.
"I asked you a question," Father continues, his voice rising. "What is this disgusting display?"
"It's not disgusting," Gray says, stepping forward. His parents' faces twist with disapproval.
"Gray," Harrison warns. "Don't make this worse."
"Worse?" Gray laughs, bitter and sharp. "You mean worse than trying to force me into an arrangement with Katherine Kincaid? Worse than threatening to cut me off if I don't play your games?"
"This is neither the time nor place—" Helena starts.
"No daughter of mine," my mother interrupts, her voice shaking with rage, "is going to whore herself out to eight Alpha predators."
The word hangs in the air. Whore.
Nobody moves. Nobody breathes. Even the other crews nearby have gone silent, sensing the violence in that single word. My mother's face is twisted with disgust, like she's looking at something contaminated. My father stands beside her, jaw tight with agreement.
Jackson growls, actually growls, and takes a step forward. Bo catches his arm.
"Predators?" Gray's voice is deadly quiet, addressing my mother. "We've protected her while you were too ashamed of her designation to even acknowledge what she is."
"Don't you dare—" my father starts.
"An Omega," Gray continues, louder now. "Your daughter is an Omega. And instead of helping her, you tried to hide her, suppress her, make her into something she's not."
"Watch your tongue," Harrison snaps at my mother. "That's my son you're speaking about."
"Your son is part of this... this perversion!" Father shoots back.
"Perversion?" Tyler steps forward, voice clinical but cold. "It's called a pack bond. It's recognized legally and medically. It's biology, not perversion."
"You're children playing with forces you don't understand," Helena says.
"We're adults," I say, finding my voice. "And we understand perfectly."
"You understand nothing!" Mother's composure cracks completely. "Do you have any idea what you're throwing away? Your reputation, your future, everything we've built for you?"
"Everything you've built?" I laugh, but it's hollow. "You mean the cage you tried to keep me in? The Beta facade you wanted me to maintain? The shame you feel about having an Omega daughter?"
"We protected you," Father says. "From exactly this kind of predatory situation."
That's when Beckett loses it. "Predatory? We're protecting her. We're the ones who've been keeping her safe while you were too ashamed of her designation to even acknowledge it."
"How dare you—" Father starts toward Beckett, but Cameron and Bo step between them.
"Enough," Coach Bennett's voice cuts through the chaos. He's been watching from the boathouse, but now he approaches with Assistant Director Carmine. "This is a public venue. You're creating a scene."
"A scene?" Mother laughs hysterically. "My daughter is planning to bind herself to eight men like some kind of—"
"Choose your next words very carefully," Gray warns, his voice lethal.
The parents face off, four pillars of Southern society realizing their children have completely rejected everything they stand for.
"You're coming with us," Father tells me. "Immediately. We're withdrawing you from this school tonight."
"No."
"This isn't a negotiation, Reese Catherine."
"You're right," I say. "It's not. I'm twenty-one years old. I'm legally an adult. You can't force me to do anything."
"We can cut you off," Mother says. "No tuition, no trust fund, nothing."
"Then I'll take loans," I say. "I'll work. I'll figure it out."
"You'd throw away everything for this?" Father gestures at the team with disgust. "For them?"
"Yes," I say without hesitation. "Because they see me as more than my designation. They value me for who I am, not what they can make me into."
"This is insanity," Helena mutters.
"This is our choice," Gray says, moving to stand beside me. "And if you can't accept it, then you're the ones making the choice to lose us."
"You would choose her over your family?" Harrison asks Gray.
"I'm choosing all of them," Gray says. "My pack. My family. The one that actually gives a damn about my happiness."
"If you walk away with them," Harrison says coldly, "you're no longer my son. No trust fund. No connections. No future in this family's legacy."
Gray doesn't even flinch. "Then I guess I'm no longer your son."
"You'll regret this," Helena adds, her voice like ice. "When the novelty wears off, when you realize what you've thrown away for this... experiment."
"And you," my father turns to me, his face hard. "Don't think this ends here. We have resources. We have lawyers. We have ways of protecting our family name from this embarrassment."
"Is that a threat?" Bo asks, stepping forward.
"It's a promise," my mother says. "We'll do whatever it takes to save our daughter from this mistake. Even if she can't see it herself."
The silence that follows is deafening.
"Anyone else?" Gray looks at his parents, then mine. "Any other threats? Disownments? Insults you'd like to throw before we leave?"
When no one speaks, he turns to the team. "Let's go. We have a celebration to get to."
We start walking away, all nine of us, leaving four stunned parents standing on the dock.
"Reese!" my mother calls out. "If you do this, you can never come home!"
I stop, turn back. "That's okay," I say. "I am home."
And surrounded by my pack, still dripping lake water, still high on victory, I mean every word.