Page 103 of In Deep

Pippa stands withThe Sharks, hugging and pawing over the boys, advertising to everyone that she is their omega. I notice it in her scent too, the flavour of it has changed. Deepened. Darkened. Something I hadn’t spotted yesterday.

They’ve claimed her. Pippa belongs to that pack. Bitten and bonded.

“What’s going on?” Sophia asks, registering mine and Mrs Thomas’ discomfort as well as the sudden change in countenance of my boys.

“That’s their ex-omega,” I whisper to her.

Sophia’s eyes float over the other woman. “She’s with a rival crew now?”

“Worse. She’s bonded to them.”

“Shit,” Sophia mutters.

“The Sharkshave done this on purpose,” my hands ball into fists on my knees, “trying to get inside their heads again.”

“Well,” says Sophia pointedly. “I think it might be working.”

I stand and stare at my alphas. They’re rattled. It’s clear. And they need to be focused. Not distracted by that crew and that omega.

I swing my head around looking at the growing crowds on both sides of the river banks, at the TV crews and the journalists, at the parents of my pack.

If I go to my alphas now, everyone will know. There will be no hiding. It will be clear to the world that I belong to all these alphas. All four. That I am a pack omega.

And what then? Is my mum right? Will I be shunned? Ridiculed? Will I lose my opportunities, my dreams?

A prestigious institute like the International Space Agency won’t hire a pack omega.

I close my eyes, fighting the voices in my head.

You know they’re wrong. You know that, don’t you? The world is changing. You can be all you want to be.

I open my eyes and gaze at my alphas. They are whispering tersely to each other, Zane and Seb’s bodies betraying their rage in their boiling countenances.

This is their dream. To race, to win, to be in with a shot at the Olympics. And I can see it all drifting away from them as their focus and energy drains away.

I know how important dreams are.

I can’t sit back and watch. I start walking, one foot in front of the other.

“Where are you going, love?” Mrs Thomas calls, but I don’t answer. I pick up my feet, my pace increasing until I’m jogging, pushing through the crowd and past the officials, ignoring the attempts by people with badges to stop me.

I reach the jetty; the boards wobbling beneath me, and race along, skidding to a halt by my pack.

“Rosie?” Zane says, “You can’t be here.”

Screw that. If that other omega can be here, then so can I.

“I didn’t get a chance to say,” I pant, trying to catch my breath, “that you can win this. I feel it in my blood and in my bones. You’re better than them, than her, than all the other competitors. I know you all, know how badly you all want it, how hard you’ve worked. It’s yours. You only have to reach out and grab it.”

All four of my alphas smile at me, and I can see some of that tension leaching away, the determination returning. “So go out there and show those bastards, show that dumb bitch, what you’re made of. Alphas, go win this for me, your omega.”

Zane laughs and wraps me in his arms and lifts me off the ground. “We’d do anything for you, Omega, you know that,” he whispers in my ear.

When he places me back on my feet, I raise my hand to stop the others from mauling over me too. “Wait, there’s something else. Something I wanted to show you.” I lift the hem of my top and tug down the waistband of my shorts, revealing the tender skin by my hip bone. It’s been bandaged for the last few days. I told them I’d grazed myself.

Now I show them the truth: a little tattoo of a pair of crossed oars. Identical to my pendant, identical to Seb’s tattoo on his chest. Around the tattoo are the initials of each of my alphas.

“I wanted a more permanent way to show I belong to you,” I say, peering up at them, suddenly concerned they may be cross. “I want you to know how much I love you, all of you.”