Page 19 of Knot So Fast (Speedverse #1)

COLLISION COURSE

~ A UREN~

I'm racing through the winding one-lane road that cuts through the hillside like a serpent, my hands gripping the steering wheel with the kind of desperation that comes from needing to outrun your own thoughts.

The digital clock on the dashboard glows a harsh blue in the darkness, informing me that it's well past midnight now, after hours of driving aimlessly until I was forced to pause at a gas station and fill up the tank.

The car I'm driving is one of my favorites from the collection in the private garage—though it's the newer model of something I apparently truly loved for years before the accident.

I only know this because I've been reading some of my own journal entries lately, trying to piece together fragments of a life I can't remember living.

The handwriting is definitely mine, the voice familiar even when describing experiences that feel like they happened to someone else entirely.

Despite it already being over a year since I woke up in that hospital bed, I haven't summoned up the courage to read the journal entries I wrote during the last six months before the accident.

It's not that I'm not curious about what happened during those crucial months—I'm desperately curious.

But every time I try to open those particular entries, my heart starts beating so fast it feels like it might burst out of my chest, cold sweats break out across my skin, and it's like I'm teetering on the edge of a full-blown panic attack.

I haven't even attempted to try again since that episode two months ago when I ended up hyperventilating on my bathroom floor, but meeting all these Alphas tonight—Kieran, Caspian, the constant presence of Lucius—and the strange familiarity of it all is making me want to push through that psychological barrier.

Maybe I'm finally ready to be frightened by whatever reality I have to face about my past, because right now I feel like I'm stuck in this horrible limbo where I can't move forward and I can't go back.

My foot presses harder on the pedal, and my hand instinctively moves to the gear shift as I accelerate further up the twisting mountain road.

The engine responds beautifully, purring with the kind of power that makes my blood sing even when my mind is chaos.

This is what I was born for— the sensation of speed, the perfect marriage of human reflexes and mechanical precision, the way everything else fades away when you're dancing with physics at the edge of control.

That's when I notice the first droplets of rain hitting the windshield, tiny specks that quickly multiply into a steady patter.

I frown as the realization hits me that this particular road isn't merciful when it gets slippery. The asphalt becomes treacherous, the curves become death traps, and smart drivers slow down and find somewhere safe to wait out the storm.

But the rain accelerates suddenly, transforming from a gentle sprinkle into a pounding deluge that sounds like bullets hitting the roof of the car. It's like a sudden storm has materialized out of nowhere, turning the night into a wall of water that my wipers can barely handle.

I curse under my breath as I try to clear the fog that's forming on the inside of the windshield, knowing rationally that I need to slow down, pull over, be the responsible adult everyone keeps telling me I should be.

But there's this nagging urge deep in my chest that screams at me not to stop, not to slow down, not to give in to the fear that's been controlling my life for the past year.

My head starts pounding with a pain that feels different from a normal headache— sharper, more urgent, like something is trying to claw its way out of my skull.

And suddenly there's a voice in my head, crystal clear and absolutely furious, that doesn't sound like my internal monologue at all.

"We can't lose this. This is everything. The deals, the paparazzi, our whole lives rely on this race. Don't fuck this up for the team, Auren!"

The voice is male, harsh with desperation and anger, and it feels like a memory trying to surface through layers of protective amnesia.

My vision blurs for a moment, not from the rain but from something internal, some fragment of the past that's fighting to break through the walls my mind has built around those final months.

That's when the headlights flash directly in front of me, cutting through the rain like twin suns that sear my retinas and send panic shooting through every nerve in my body.

My eyes widen in horror as I realize I've drifted into the wrong lane, that there's another car coming straight at me at a combined speed that will turn this into a head-on collision neither of us will survive.

Time seems to slow down and speed up simultaneously as adrenaline floods my system and every survival instinct I possess kicks into overdrive.

"SHIT!" I scream, my voice raw with terror as I slam on the brakes with both feet, feeling the anti-lock system engage as the tires fight for traction on the rain-slicked asphalt.

I wrench the steering wheel hard to the right, feeling the car go into a controlled slide that's anything but controlled, the back end fishtailing as I fight to regain command of two tons of metal and momentum.

The world becomes a blur of rain and headlights and the sound of tires squealing against wet pavement as I pray to whatever gods might be listening that I can pull out of this without killing myself or anyone else.

The car spins once, twice, the centrifugal force pressing me against the door as everything outside the windows becomes a kaleidoscope of darkness and reflected light.

I can feel the moment when the tires find purchase again, when the laws of physics decide to show mercy instead of delivering the punishment I probably deserve for being so reckless.

Miraculously, impossibly, the car comes to a stop just inches from the guardrail that separates the road from a cliff that drops straight down into nothing.

I can see the edge in my headlights, can feel how close I came to joining the statistics of drivers who pushed too hard and paid the ultimate price.

"Mother fucker," I curse, the words coming out in a breathless whisper as I realize I can barely breathe. My hands are shaking so violently that I just stare at them, watching my fingers tremble like leaves in a hurricane while my heart hammers against my ribs.

My eyes tear up, but instead of breaking down into the sobbing mess I probably should be, I laugh.

The sound is wild and unhinged and probably indicates some kind of psychological break, but the adrenaline is rushing through my system like the purest drug imaginable, making everything feel electric and alive and absolutely insane.

"What the fuck are you so afraid of?" I ask myself aloud, my voice echoing in the small space of the car. "Death?"

The question hangs in the air like a challenge, and I find myself genuinely considering it.

Is that really what this is about? Am I so terrified of dying because I've already experienced death once and only remember fragments of being pulled back from whatever comes after?

Is that why I've been so careful, so controlled, so determined to live the safe little life everyone keeps pushing me toward?

I sigh heavily and grip the steering wheel with both hands, pressing my forehead against the cool leather as I try to calm my breathing and slow my racing heart. The rain continues to pound against the roof like an accusation, like nature itself is disappointed in my reckless behavior.

I talk to myself in the darkness, the way therapists have taught me to do when panic threatens to overwhelm my ability to function.

"You're okay. You're alive. The car is fine. Nobody got hurt. You can handle this."

But even as I say the words, tears are spilling down my face, and my parents' voices are repeating in my head like a broken record. No more riding, no more racing. Just be a normal individual in this world until a pack comes along and marries you off to someone who can take proper care of you.

Is that really the life I want?

Is that the future I'm supposed to accept—giving up everything that makes me feel alive so I can become someone's decorative Omega wife, hosting dinner parties and making small talk about pilates classes and charity galas?

I grip the steering wheel even tighter, my knuckles white with the force of it, when suddenly there's a sharp knock on the driver's side window that makes me jump so hard I nearly hit my head on the roof.

My heart, which had finally started to calm down, immediately kicks back into overdrive. I huff out a shaky breath, knowing I have to face whoever is out there—probably the driver of the other car I nearly turned into roadkill.

I'm going to have to apologize, exchange insurance information, maybe deal with police reports and citations for reckless driving. Not that my parents can't make all of that disappear with the right amount of money and the appropriate hush payments to the right people.

I sigh and quickly open the door, sliding out into the rain that immediately soaks through my clothes and plasters my hair to my skull. The cold water is actually a relief after the suffocating heat of panic and adrenaline that's been building in the car.

"Listen, I didn't see—" I begin, lifting my head to face the person standing there in the downpour, ready to grovel and apologize and do whatever damage control is necessary.

But the words die in my throat as my eyes widen to take in the figure before me. It's a man dressed entirely in black, water dripping from his hair and clothes, an Alpha whose scent cuts through even the heavy rain to hit my enhanced senses like a physical blow.

He's staring back at me with eyes that are hauntingly familiar, eyes that make my entire body go still as if my wild heartbeat has suddenly decided to pause at the very sight of him.

Those eyes are the same blue-green that haunts my dreams, the same shade that makes my Omega purr even when my rational mind is screaming warnings.

My head pounds with a pain so intense it makes me dizzy, and I can't seem to remember how to breathe properly.

A moment of déjà vu hits me like a freight train loaded with memories I can't quite access, fragments of scenes that feel real and impossible at the same time.

Rain streams down both our faces as we stand there in the middle of the road, and I have the strangest sensation that this has happened before.

That I've stood in the rain facing this man, that we've had this moment of recognition and terror and something that might be hope if I was brave enough to name it.

But confusion slaps me back into reality as I struggle to process what's happening, why this stranger feels like coming home and running away at the same time, why every instinct I possess is telling me that this moment is significant in ways I can't understand.

I dare to whisper the name that's been living in my head all day, the name that's attached to so many questions I don't know how to ask.

"Lucius?"