"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 toReese, 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."
