Page 24 of False Catch

When we finally stop, there's a different energy in the room. Charged but calm. Like we've crossed a line we can't uncross.

"That," Reese says, "is what we show Carmine tomorrow."

"A pack," Gray says, and it's not a question.

"A team," she corrects. "Just one that works differently than expected."

"The administration won't see it that way," Tyler points out.

"Then we make them see it," I say, surprising myself with the conviction in my voice. "We show them that our way works."

"And if they still object?" Gray asks.

"Then we fight," Jackson says quietly. "Together."

The word hangs in the air like a promise. Like a vow.

"Together," Eli echoes.

One by one, we all repeat it. Even Gray, finally, adds his voice to the chorus.

"Together."

It’s cheesy and we all know it, but something about admitting what we’ve been trying to fight down here where it’s just us makes it feel less ridiculous and more necessary.

Reese smiles, and it's the first real smile I've seen from her all week. "Then let's run it again. And this time, let's show these tanks what Sable Ridge Crew is really made of."

We take position again, hands gripping oars that are still wet from our breakthrough. This time when we row, we row as what we are: Nine people bound by something stronger than policy, stronger than designation, stronger than fear.

We row as one.

And tomorrow, we'll show the administration exactly what that means.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Tyler

Five forty-three AM.

I arrive at the boathouse seventeen minutes early because my brain won't let me be late when something important is happening. Also because I couldn't sleep past four knowing what today means for us.

The lake is glass this morning. Perfect conditions for rowing, which means Carmine will have no environmental excuses if we fail. The pressure differential between the cool morning air and warming water creates these tiny wisps of fog that my brain wants to calculate the evaporation rate for, but I force myself to focus.

Cameron's already here, sitting on the dock with his feet dangling over the edge. He doesn't acknowledge me, which is normal. We've rowed together for two years and I think we've had maybe ten actual conversations. It works for us.

"Morning," I say anyway, because Reese has been trying to get us to communicate more.

He grunts. Also normal.

I check my watch again. Five forty-five. The others should start arriving soon. We agreed to be here by five-fifty to warm up and look organized when Carmine shows up at six. Organization suggests control. Control suggests we're not a pack of Alphas losing our minds over an Omega coxswain.

Which we absolutely are, but that's beside the point.

"You think we can pull this off?" Cameron asks suddenly, surprising me.

I consider the question seriously because that's what I do. "Statistically? We have about a thirty percent chance if Carmine is actually looking for violations. Seventy percent if this is just administrative theater."

"Those aren't great odds."