Page 36 of Knot So Fast (Speedverse #1)
REBELLION IN RACING GEAR
~ A UREN~
I tug at the racing suit one more time, adjusting the way it hugs my curves in all the right places while still maintaining the professional appearance required for what I'm about to do.
The material is high-tech, fireproof, and costs more than most people's monthly rent, but right now, all I can think about is whether I look convincing enough to pull off the insane plan my best friends and I have concocted.
"Is this going to work?" I ask, turning to face Rory as she emerges from behind a stack of spare tires.
She comes into full view, and I have to bite back a laugh at how different she looks from the Omega I know she is.
Her short blonde hair is styled in a perfect sideswipe bob that gives her serious tomboy vibes, the blue highlights catching the fluorescent lights of the garage in a way that makes them look almost electric.
She's wearing her usual pit crew gear, grease-stained and baggy enough to hide any feminine curves, complete with a cap pulled low over her eyes.
The small star crescent tattoo under her right eye— the one that matches mine and Wren's, our symbol of friendship since we were teenagers —is barely visible beneath a strategic smudge of motor oil.
Rory smirks diabolically, the expression transforming her face from sweet Omega to dangerous conspirator. She reaches behind her and produces a helmet, custom-painted in blacks and purples with lightning bolt accents that probably cost more than a small car.
"It better work," she says, handing me the helmet with a flourish. "Because I'm looking like an actual girl right now for my bestie, and if any of those possessive Alphas on my team see me here instead of on the opposite side of the station prepping their rides, they're gonna lose their shit."
I laugh, the sound echoing in the relatively empty section of the garage we've commandeered for our preparation.
"I love you lots," I tell her, meaning every word. "Thank you for doing this. I know the risk you're taking."
"Anything to help you make a grand entrance back into the racing world," Rory says with a wink that's pure mischief.
"Of course, if you get disowned by your parents after this stunt, just know my parents will happily adopt you.
They fucking love rebellion. Pretty sure it's a family requirement at this point. "
I groan, running my gloved hand over my face.
"Of course they do. They have their daughter literally dressed up as a boy in the racing world, trying not to get all smitten with her all-male team who are probably dying to fuck the apparent 'male' Omega on their crew."
Rory throws her head back and laughs, the sound bright and genuine despite our tense situation. "Beta," she corrects, pointing at herself with exaggerated innocence. "I'm a Beta, remember? Completely harmless. No threatening Omega pheromones here. Just good old reliable Beta energy."
I roll my eyes so hard I'm surprised they don't fall out of my head.
"Those pheromones you're suppressing are NOT harmless in the slightest. I've seen the way your team looks at you sometimes, like they can sense something's off but can't quite put their finger on it. One day those suppressants are going to fail and then what?"
Before Rory can respond, a third voice cuts through our bickering.
"You two better hurry up and get this show rolling, because I can't stall them with my disabled ass for much longer."
We turn to see Wren rolling in with her custom wheelchair, looking like a queen surveying her kingdom.
Her shoulder-length dark hair catches the light, the orange highlights creating a sunset effect that perfectly matches her fiery personality.
Her matching star crescent tattoo is prominently displayed, no hiding it like Rory does.
Wren's never hidden from anything in her life, and her recent accident that left her paralyzed from the waist down hasn't changed that.
"Listen," I say, adjusting my helmet under my arm, "they're not supposed to be judging you in this day and age. That's discrimination if they do, and you could sue their asses into next century."
Wren laughs, but it's sharp and knowing.
"Bitch, this is the preliminaries of one of the most thriving racing competitions in the world.
They don't give a fuck about rights or appearances unless it's good PR.
Why else do you think they're letting me use the bathroom in this specific restricted area?
One wrong move, one complaint from the wealthy Omega in the wheelchair, and their careers are over.
I'm a walking—excuse me, rolling—PR nightmare waiting to happen. "
"That's true," I admit, feeling the familiar surge of protectiveness for my friends. "Especially for us Omegas. They'll do anything to look good in the limelight after years of excluding us. Now suddenly we're essential to the sport? Please. It's all about the money and the optics."
"Enough philosophy," Rory interjects, pulling a small pillbox from her pocket. "Are you ready for this?"
When I nod, trying to project more confidence than I feel, she offers me the box. The pills inside are small, innocuous-looking white tablets that could be anything from aspirin to something far more interesting.
"What's this for?" I ask, examining them with curiosity.
"If everything starts to get blurry and unfocused, or if you're on the verge of going full panic mode, take one of these," Rory explains, her tone suddenly serious. "It'll calm you the fuck down. Fair warning though—might make you a bit horny, but YOLO, right?"
"YOLO?" Wren groans from her wheelchair, sounding physically pained by the outdated reference.
"Girl, at least you're not near your on-and-off ex-boyfriend, playboy disaster Lucius.
Which, by the way, I still don't like his ass.
Did you see how 'loyal' he's being, surrounded by all those girls in that announcement this morning? Fucking disgraceful."
I smirk, tucking the pillbox into a secure pocket in my suit.
"We're not official or anything. If he wants to fuck everyone and their auntie for show, he can. His choice. Just gotta keep doing those annoying STD tests because I'm not contracting anything from his wandering dick."
Rory's jaw drops, her eyes widening comically.
"He actually takes the tests?"
"Yup," I confirm with satisfaction. "I force him. If he doesn't come with an updated one from the official medical office, stamped and dated within the last two weeks, we don't fuck. He knows I don't play with that shit. Loss of memory or not, my health comes first."
Wren and Rory exchange a look that speaks volumes, both whistling low under their breath.
"Oh yeah," Wren says with a knowing grin, "this fucker is madly in love with you. No Alpha, especially not one with Lucius's reputation, would submit to regular STD testing just for casual sex."
"Or he's just really in love with her pussy," Rory adds with a mischievous glint in her eye. "Who knows? Maybe it's magical. Maybe it grants wishes or something."
"Oh my god," I groan, feeling heat rush to my face. "I'm leaving. Right now. Before you two start writing erotic fiction about my apparently magical vagina."
I start walking toward the garage exit, but Wren's voice stops me. "Do you really think your parents are going to disown you for this?"
I pause, the weight of that possibility settling over me like a heavy blanket. When I shrug, trying for nonchalance, I know neither of them is buying it.
"Probably," I admit. "But can I really continue playing this stupid game of hide and seek when I know I can help Lachlan keep doing what he loves? When I have the ability to make a difference and I'm sitting on my ass pretending to be some delicate flower who needs protection?"
The silence that follows is heavy with understanding. We've all made sacrifices, all chosen paths that our families might not approve of. But this feels bigger somehow. More final.
"Even though you don't remember what you shared with him," Rory says quietly, "you're willing to put yourself back in the spotlight? Risk everything on a possibility?"
I turn back to face them, slipping my helmet on but leaving the visor up so they can see my eyes. The determination I feel must show because both of them straighten slightly.
"No matter what happened in the past, I can tell from one look at that man that racing is his life," I say, my voice steady despite the nerves dancing in my stomach.
"It's what makes him breathe, what gives him purpose.
If he's forced to stop not because of his own skills declining but because he can't find an Omega willing to partner with him?
That's going to kill him slowly. Do I really want that on my conscience? "
I shake my head, answering my own question. "No. Not for him or his pack. I don't remember them or whatever we shared, but who knows? Maybe doing this will trigger something. Maybe it'll bring back the memories everyone seems so desperate to keep from me."
My hands clench into fists at my sides. "I can't let my parents dictate this reality anymore. Can't keep living in fear because death came knocking on my door and I was lucky enough to not answer."
I look away, taking a deep breath that's slightly muffled by the helmet.
"I know I was born to ride, to drive fast, to push limits and break barriers.
No one is going to dictate what I'm destined to be except fate herself.
So, sorry Mama and Papa, but your daughter can't be a perfect heir without living out her dreams first."
Turning back to my best friends, I flash them a peace sign with my fingers, trying to lighten the suddenly heavy mood. "Let's hope I don't die a second time, yeah? That would be super inconvenient."