Page 53 of False Catch

"Actually," Gray says, standing abruptly, "I need to review tomorrow's workout. Reese, you should probably look at it too."

It's the worst excuse I've ever heard, but Reese latches onto it like a lifeline.

"Right. Yes. The workout." She starts to stand, but she's tangled between all of us and nearly trips.

I catch her automatically, hands on her waist, and for a moment we're pressed together. She looks up at me, eyes wide, lips parted.

"Careful," I murmur.

"Always," she breathes back.

Gray clears his throat. Loudly.

I let go, and Reese follows Gray to the study. The moment they're gone, the tension in the room shifts but doesn't dissipate.

"She okay?" Bo asks quietly.

"Her suppressants are failing," Tyler says matter-of-factly. "We're overwhelming her system."

"Should we... do something?" Zane asks.

"Like what?" Jackson speaks for the first time in an hour. "Tell her to stay away? Stop training? What exactly do you suggest?"

"I don't know," Zane admits. "But this isn't sustainable."

"No," Eli agrees quietly. "It's not."

On screen, the women are fighting back now, covered in blood, scrambling for survival. It feels appropriate somehow.

"We're going to lose everything," Tyler says suddenly. "The statistics are clear. Mixed designation teams have a 73% failure rate within the first season."

"We're not a statistic," Bo says firmly.

"No," Tyler agrees. "We're worse. We're a bonding pack in denial."

Nobody responds to that. Jackson shifts uncomfortably on the loveseat. Cameron goes very still in his chair.

"We're not bonding," Jackson says, but even he doesn't sound convinced.

"Then explain the scent matching," Tyler counters. "The synchronized movements. The way we all orbit around her like she's our center of gravity."

"Biology," Cameron says quietly from his chair. "Just biology."

"Right," Tyler says dryly. "Because biology explains why Beckett hasn't hooked up with anyone in three weeks. Why Jackson actually makes eye contact with her. Why Gray's about to crack a molar from clenching his jaw."

"Enough," Bo says, using his mom voice. "This isn't helping."

"What would help?" Tyler asks. "Seriously, what would actually help? Because unless someone has a solution that doesn't involve either claiming her or losing her, we're fucked."

The silence that follows is answer enough.

I can hear Gray and Reese in the study, voices low but intense. Whatever they're discussing, it's not tomorrow's workout.

"Movie's almost over," Cameron says, like that matters.

We pretend to watch the ending, but everyone's attention is elsewhere. On the closed study door. On the scent of aroused Omega that's permeating the house. On the future that's becoming more impossible by the day.

When the credits roll, Cameron turns the lights back on. We all blink at each other, disheveled and wound tight.