Page 98 of False Catch

The last five hundred is pure pain. Your lungs burn, your legs scream, your back threatens to give out. This is where most crews fall apart. But something happens in that last five hundred that hasn't happened all season.

We get stronger.

"THAT'S IT!" Reese's voice cracks with intensity. "Cameron, Eli, drive those legs! Jackson, Zane, perfect timing! Tyler, Beckett, you're doing beautiful! Bo, Gray, bring us home!"

I don't know where the power comes from. Maybe it's muscle memory. Maybe it's pride. Maybe it's just that we're too stubborn to lose. But we're moving, really moving, the boat singing across the water like it has wings.

"Ten strokes to go! Northridge is right there but WE DO NOT BREAK!"

We don't break. We drive through the finish line a bow ball ahead of Northridge, maybe two seats up on Hampton Hills.

"Let it run!"

We collapse over our oars, gasping. My entire body is on fire, but the good kind. The kind that means you left everything on the water.

"Holy shit," Zane pants. "We actually did it."

"Barely," Tyler corrects, but he's smiling.

"A win's a win," Bo says.

We paddle back to the dock, and for a few minutes, everything feels... not fixed, but fixable. We're laughing, chirping at Northridge about their sprint, acting like an actual team.

Then I see her.

Kinsley Adams stands on the dock with several members of the women's team, all wearing identical smirks that make my hackles rise.

"Nice race," she calls out, voice dripping with false sweetness. "Must be all those special training sessions paying off."

"Ignore her," Gray mutters.

But Kinsley's not done. She pulls out her phone, waving it at us. "You should all check your messages. I sent you something... enlightening."

"Whatever game you're playing—" Gray starts.

"Oh, this isn't my game," Kinsley interrupts, her smile pure venom. "This is yours, Gray. Or should I say... ours?"

My phone buzzes. Then Tyler's. Then everyone's in rapid succession.

"Don't—" Gray says sharply, but it's too late. Zane's already opening the message.

"What the fuck?" Zane's voice is deadly quiet.

I open the video on my phone. It's dark, grainy, clearly filmed in secret. But the voices are unmistakable. Gray's low growl. Kinsley's breathy moans. The visual is shadowy but explicit enough - two bodies moving together in what looks like the back of a car.

But it's the audio that makes my blood run cold.

"Knew you'd come back," Kinsley's voice purrs from the phone. "That little Omega was just a distraction, wasn't she?"

"Stop talking," Gray's voice responds, rough with arousal.

"You missed this. Missed me. While you were playing captain to your confused little pack, you were thinking about this."

The video cuts off.

The silence on the dock is deafening. Everyone's staring at Gray, who's gone white as paper.

"That's not—" he starts.