Page 100 of False Catch

Gray's silence is damning.

"That's what I thought," Bo says, disgust clear in his voice.

We load the boat in hostile silence. The unity we'd found during the race evaporates like morning mist. Gray tries to approach Reese twice, but Bo and Jackson form a wall between them.

"Next race in an hour," Reese announces, still in that eerily professional voice. "Let's focus on what we came here to do."

But I can see it in everyone's faces. We're broken again. Worse than before, because this time it's not about dynamics or administration or even pack bonds.

This time it's betrayal.

And there's no coming back from that.

I watch Gray standing alone by the trailer, isolated from the team that was just starting to trust him again. Watch Reese pretending to adjust her cox box while her hands tremble. Watch our pack fracture along lines that might be irreparable.

"Well," Kinsley says sweetly as she passes, "good luck with your next races. You'll need it."

She's right. We're about to race with a crew that can barely stand to be in the same boat together.

This is going to be a disaster.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Gray

The hour between races is the longest of my life. The team won't look at me. Reese won't speak to me except for necessary commands. Jackson looks ready to throw me in the lake. Even Tyler, usually rational, keeps giving me these calculating looks like he's reassessing everything he thought he knew about me.

"We need to warm up," Reese says, her voice flat. Professional. Empty of the fire that usually drives us.

"Reese, please, just let me—"

"Get in the boat, Lockwood."

Lockwood. Not Gray. The distance in that single word cuts deeper than any accusation.

We row to the starting line for the second race in poisonous silence. Our warm-up is mechanical, disconnected. Eight individuals who happen to be in the same boat. Bellwater State and Crescent Bay pull up to the other lanes, their crews moving with the unity we've lost.

"Can we at least function for the next six minutes?" I ask, desperation leaking through.

"We'll row," Jackson says coldly. "That's all you deserve."

"I didn't—"

"Starting positions," the official calls.

We back into the platform. I can feel the hostility radiating from every seat behind me. This is going to be a disaster.

"Row," Reese calls when the flag drops, but there's no passion in it. No drive.

We move off the line, but we're not together. Bo's pulling harder than necessary, like he's trying to punish the water. Jackson's completely out of sync with Eli for the first time all season. Zane's not even trying to match Tyler's rhythm.

"Timing," Reese calls, but her heart's not in it.

Bellwater walks through us like we're standing still. Crescent Bay is already a length up and pulling away.

"Power through—" Reese starts, then stops. Like she can't even pretend to care.

We're falling apart. Not just losing—imploding. By the thousand-meter mark, we're dead last and getting worse. Other crews are going to lap us at this rate.