Page 47 of Knot So Fast (Speedverse #1)
TERRITORIAL DISPUTES
~ L UCIUS~
The security guard bows his head slightly as I approach the private elevator, his expression shifting from professional alertness to confused recognition.
"Lachlan? Didn't you just pass by here?"
I flash him my most charming smile—the one that's gotten me out of more trouble than I care to count—and give him a casual wink.
"Forgot to get winning flowers for my Omega," I say, bobbing my head toward the elaborate bouquet in my arms. White roses mixed with those purple flowers she's always loved, even if she can't remember why. "You know how it is."
The guard nods slowly, still looking puzzled but not willing to question someone he thinks is the four-time world champion. Before he can work through his confusion, I'm already stepping into the elevator.
"Make sure that crowd of crazed reporters leaves here in an hour," I call out just as the doors start to close. "We don't have time for more gossip after the hectic day we've had."
"Yes sir!" he declares, snapping to attention even as his brow furrows with lingering confusion.
The doors slide shut, and I immediately roll my eyes, letting the mask of casual charm drop.
Annoyed doesn't even begin to cover what I'm feeling after the absolute bullshit confrontations I've endured all day.
Every-fucking-where I went, cameras in my face, microphones shoved at me, reporters screaming questions about my "secret identity" as if it was some grand conspiracy that I exist.
Sure, I've been told plenty of times that I look like the four-time Formula One champion.
It's exactly why I bleached my hair just a fraction lighter, added some subtle highlights—enough difference that people could write me off as a doppelganger or distant relative.
The resemblance was uncanny but deniable.
A curiosity, not a scandal.
But now that it's actually out—now that the world knows we're twins—everyone's going to go down the rabbit hole.
Digging into our past, our family, why we've never been seen together, why one twin dominates the racing world while the other... what? What even am I in comparison?
The fuck-up? The shadow? The dirty secret the Wolfe family tried to bury?
Not good at all.
I bite my lip hard enough to taste copper, but even the sharp pain isn't enough to distract from what's really eating at me.
The scene replays in my mind like a broken video loop—Lachlan defending Auren in front of all those flashing cameras, his hand possessive on her throat, before claiming her lips as if she were always his to claim.
In front of the entire fucking world.
The jealousy burns through my veins like acid, which is almost laughably selfish when I think about it.
I've had her sole attention since the accident.
For an entire year, I was the lucky bastard who got to keep fucking the woman we're all obsessed with.
It felt like perfect payback at the time—I wasn't technically part of my brother's precious pack, but our Auren couldn't remember enough to choose sides.
In the end, she recalled me. The toxic ex. The bad decision. The one her subconscious apparently decided was worth keeping even when everything else got wiped clean.
Or maybe it was just divine timing—I was there when she woke up, the first familiar face in a sea of medical equipment and concerned strangers. Maybe her brain just latched onto whatever it could find and reconstructed our relationship from fragments and feelings rather than actual memories.
But now their paths have crossed unexpectedly, and she's kissed him in front of the world, announcing herself as his Omega.
His and his pack's. Which means there's no way around this shit anymore.
No more pretending we exist in separate spheres.
No more careful distance maintained by unspoken agreements.
I can't reverse this.
The elevator slows, and I catch it immediately—Auren's scent filtering through the small gap where the doors will open.
Vanilla and wildflowers, that underlying sweetness that makes my nerves calm just a fraction despite everything else.
It's like a drug, the way her scent affects me, turning my aggression into something more manageable, more?—
Fuck.
There are other scents mixed with hers.
Sweat and sex and satisfaction, layered so thick I can practically taste what they did in this suite. My brother's scent all over her, marking her inside and out in ways that make my Alpha instincts roar with the need to reclaim, to cover his marks with my own, to?—
I bite my bottom lip harder to stop the growl building in my chest.
"Calm down," I tell myself, but my body isn't listening. Every muscle is tense, ready for a fight I know is coming.
The doors open, and I immediately lock eyes with my twin brother.
Lachlan.
One look at his face— that particular combination of annoyance and resignation that means he knew this was coming —and I'm groaning before I can stop myself.
"Why do you always come at the worst fucking time?"
He doesn't miss a beat, that infuriating smirk spreading across his face.
"I missed you too, my dear brother that the world now knows about."
The sarcasm drips from every word, but there's an edge underneath that speaks of genuine frustration.
That's when I realize he's not alone.
The entire fucking pack is here, crowded into the entryway of his suite like some kind of intervention.
Kieran leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, looking at me with those dark eyes that have always seen too much.
Dex standing slightly apart, probably analyzing every micro-expression for later dissection.
Caspian near the kitchen, ever the pragmatist, already calculating how to manage this situation.
And then there's Luke.
That fucking Beta.
Personal hatred floods through me at the sight of him.
The roommate who won't let me into their apartment. The one who's been playing guardian and gatekeeper, keeping me at arm's length from my own woman. A goddamn nuisance who thinks he has any right to?—
"How did you even get through?" Lachlan asks, pulling my attention back to him.
I smirk, letting my natural arrogance shine through.
"C'mon. We're basically identical aside from the slightly blonde difference in our hair." I shrug, adjusting my grip on the flowers. "So. Technology is shit anyway."
Lachlan rolls his eyes—a gesture so familiar it makes my chest ache with something I refuse to name. His gaze drops to the bouquet in my arms, and his expression hardens.
"If you think giving her flowers because of her grand win after you were flaunted to the world surrounded by Omegas is going to solve anything, it's not."
Now it's my turn to roll my eyes.
"Auren understands our circumstances."
The words are barely out of my mouth when Lachlan's entire demeanor shifts. He steps forward, closing the distance between us until we're standing face to face, mirror images separated by choices and chances and a year of carefully maintained distance.
"Well, we have to change that," he says, his voice low and controlled in that way that means he's seconds from losing his shit. "Because she may not remember us, but now that she's going to be our Omega in this competition, there's no more non-exclusive bullshit."
The possessiveness in his tone makes my hackles rise.
"Who the fuck made you leader?"
His laugh is sharp and humorless.
"Well, of course I'm the leader. This is my pack." He steps even closer, and I can smell the lingering traces of Auren on his skin, making my jaw clench. "Last time I checked, my dear brother made his decision to go with that group of backstabbing bastards, and where did that get you?"
The reminder of my failed attempt at independence, at creating something separate from his shadow, hits exactly where he intended. I hold my tongue, knowing that anything I say will only make this worse.
But my silence seems to frustrate him more than any argument would.
Lachlan takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly before stepping even closer, close enough that I can see the barely controlled fury in his eyes—eyes that are exactly like mine, windows to a soul that's somehow both familiar and foreign.
He drops his voice to barely above a whisper, but every word lands like a physical blow.
"You think I'm going to forget that you had a whole fucking year to fuck her? Love her? To cherish her like she should be, and instead you play a game of yo-yo-the-Omega with someone as talented, beautiful, and fierce as Auren?"
Each word is precise, calculated to hurt. And it works. Because he's right. I had her to myself for a year and I fucked it up with my inability to commit, my need to maintain some kind of twisted independence even when every fiber of my being screamed to claim her properly.
"And now you're getting antsy because she suddenly is fine with the idea of us being her pack?"
When I don't say anything— can't say anything without admitting truths I'm not ready to face —he smirks. It's dangerous and predatory and exactly the expression I've seen him wear before destroying opponents on the track.
But now it's directed at me, his twin, his blood, his biggest disappointment.
I know that look.
It's the one he flaunts when he knows he can ruin anyone who sees it. But having it projected back at me means my older brother— older by four fucking minutes —won't back down from whatever he's plotting.
"We're not gonna play this struggled commitment bullshit now that you exist to the world," he continues, each word deliberate and final.
"So you can decide if your cock being outside this pack is more important than sticking with OUR Omega, and if that's more vital, I suggest you turn around and leave where you came from. "
The silence that follows is suffocating.