Page 49 of Knot So Fast (Speedverse #1)

PACK DYNAMICS

~ L ACHLAN~

"You're being an overprotective jerk," Lucius spits the words at me like they're poison, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

The flowers he dropped are still scattered across the threshold, some of the white petals having filtered out and already beginning to wilt under the harsh fluorescent hallway lights.

I force myself to maintain eye contact with my twin, even though looking at him is like staring into a funhouse mirror— familiar features twisted by different choices, different paths, different failures.

"I'm making sure our Omega isn't getting overwhelmed by our existence," I say, keeping my voice level despite the rage simmering just beneath the surface.

"And it doesn't make things better if we're all crowding in there like desperate Alphas who can't control themselves. So you need to calm the fuck down."

The hallway feels too small for all of us—five Alphas radiating tension and barely controlled aggression, the air thick with competing pheromones that would probably send any passing Omega into immediate distress.

We're all fighting the same instinct: to break down that door and get back to Auren, to make sure she's okay, to stake our individual claims on her attention and affection.

"We all want to be there for her," I continue, trying to inject some rationality into this powder keg of a situation. "But Luke isn't driving her pheromones up a cactus wall. He's helping, which is more than we can say for ourselves right now."

Lucius's laugh is bitter and sharp.

"That Beta is a cockblocking gatekeeper who thinks he owns her."

Kieran rolls his eyes so hard I'm surprised they don't fall out of his head. He pushes off from the wall where he's been leaning, his dark eyes flashing with irritation.

"Luke isn't bad at all. You're just jealous because he doesn't give a fuck who you are." His voice drops to something more pointed. "And he makes sure you don't have access to their suite so you can't just waltz into her life and fuck her there too whenever you feel like it."

The accusation hangs in the air like a challenge, and I watch my brother's face cycle through several expressions— surprise, anger, and finally, that defensive arrogance he wears like armor.

"Well, since he's your little boy thing," Lucius sneers, his voice dripping with malicious intent, "why don't you go in there and fuck him while you're at it?"

The silence that follows is deafening.

Kieran's entire body goes rigid, his jaw clenching so hard I can hear his teeth grinding. The suggestion isn't just inappropriate—it's deliberately cruel, designed to hurt in the way only someone who knows your history can manage.

"Watch it," Caspian warns, his usually calm voice carrying an edge of steel. He's moved closer to Kieran, not quite stepping between them but positioning himself as a potential barrier. Always the mediator, always trying to prevent the explosion before it happens.

But Lucius isn't done.

He's like a wounded animal, lashing out at anything within range, trying to spread his pain around until everyone else hurts as much as he does.

Dex steps forward, his commentator's training evident in the way he tries to defuse the situation with logic.

"What are you so threatened about, Lucius?" His tone is professional, analytical, the same voice he uses to break down racing strategies for millions of viewers. "We know it's not really about your little bouquet of flowers."

For a moment, I think my brother might actually answer honestly.

His mask slips just slightly, and I catch a glimpse of the lost boy underneath—the one who's always felt like he was living in my shadow, who made terrible choices trying to prove he could succeed on his own terms. But then the walls slam back up, and he's all arrogant dismissal again.

"Nevermind," he mutters, turning toward the elevator. "I'm leaving."

"No." The word comes out harder than I intended, and I move to block his path before I can second-guess myself. "We're gonna have this conversation because now our reputations are on the line and everything we do is going to be watched like hawks."

The media circus has already started. I can feel it in the way my phone keeps vibrating with notifications I'm ignoring, in the knowledge that every major news outlet is probably running stories about the mysterious twin revelation.

By tomorrow, there will be think pieces about our family dynamics, speculation about why we've been kept separate, theories about what this means for Formula One.

Lucius tries to sidestep me, but I match his movement.

We're the same height, the same build, mirror images engaged in a dance we've been performing our whole lives.

"Well, I'm not part of this shit," he says, his voice rising with frustration. "And I'm not planning to race either."

That stops me cold.

"Then why the hell were you trying on suits like some big shot?"

The question catches him off guard, and I see the moment of panic in his eyes before he covers it with bluster.

"What? You think you're the only big shot Wolfe being offered contracts?"

Of course he's been fielding offers. The moment our connection became public, every team that's ever wanted to knock me off my pedestal would be reaching out to him. The twin of the champion, the wild card, the potential weakness in my armor.

They'd promise him everything— money, glory, the chance to finally beat me at something that matters.

"This isn't the fucking point!" The words explode out of me, loud enough that somewhere down the hall, a door opens and quickly closes again.

I force myself to lower my voice, but the intensity remains.

"We need consistency for Auren. You can't be jumping in and out of this like a chess piece taking a fucking gamble on the board. "

I step closer, close enough that I can smell the cologne he wears—different from mine, sharper, more aggressive.

Everything about him is like that: my reflection pushed to extremes, all sharp edges where I've learned control.

"You have to decide if you're in this pack or not," I continue, laying out the ultimatum I've been building to since he stepped off that elevator. "Because we're going to go back into the racing world as one unit, and I need to know if you're in or not."

The pack.

It's always come back to the pack for me—that sense of belonging, of brotherhood that transcends blood.

Kieran, Caspian, Dex, and now potentially Auren again.

We work because we balance each other, support each other, make each other better. It's what Lucius never understood, why he left to form his own group with racers who saw him as a tool rather than a brother.

He huffs and turns away from me, his shoulders tense with barely controlled emotion.

"I don't need to commit to shit. I have a pack, remember?"

The words are meant to hurt, and they do. But they also ignite a fury in me that I've been holding back for years.

"Oh, the pack of bastards who play dirty and are only using you because you're a fucking Wolfe?!"

It's a low blow, but it's also the truth.

I've watched from a distance as his so-called pack has manipulated him, used his name and his need to prove himself for their own gain. They let him take the falls, bear the consequences, while they reaped the benefits of being associated with our family name.

"Get off my back," Lucius snarls, but there's a defensiveness in his tone that tells me I've hit a nerve.

"I'm not getting off your back when you're playing with a gang of Alphas clearly using you and making you feel all valid and shit." The words come out in a rush, years of frustration finally finding voice. "They're not your brothers, Lucius. They're parasites feeding off your need for validation."

Dex's voice cuts through our confrontation, calm but pointed.

"Did you really not learn from the first time?"

The question hangs in the air, heavy with the weight of history we all remember but rarely discuss.

The first time Lucius trusted the wrong people. The first time his need for independence led to betrayal. The first time he came crawling back, broken and bitter, only to leave again when his pride healed enough to let him forget the lesson.

"I'm out," Lucius announces, his voice flat and final as he stalks toward the elevator.

But Caspian isn't letting this pass. His voice, usually so measured and careful, carries a warning that makes even me pay attention.

"Don't keep messing with Auren if you're going to get your hands stained by those unfaithful crooks."

Lucius whirls around, his eyes flashing with anger.

"Oh, so now I gotta listen to you too?"

The elevator dings, doors sliding open like an escape route.

But I'm not letting him leave without one last attempt to get through that thick skull of his.

I switch to Russian, the language of our childhood, of whispered secrets and shared dreams before everything went to shit.

"Мы не играем в эти игры," I say, each word deliberate and heavy. We're not playing these games. "Ты знаешь, что поставлено на карту." You know what's at stake here.

He steps into the elevator, but turns back to face us all.

The cocky smile that spreads across his face is pure performance, the mask he wears when he's hurt and trying not to show it.

"Fuck you, brother, and your stupid pack," he says, his voice carrying that particular brand of venom reserved for family. "I'll do what I want."

I meet his gaze steadily, pouring every ounce of Alpha authority I possess into my next words. This isn't just brother to brother anymore— this is pack Alpha to potential threat, and we both know it.

"Then Auren's off limits," I say, each word precise and final. "I mean it."

The challenge hangs between us, crackling with tension.

This is the line in the sand, the boundary that can't be crossed without consequences.

If he's not with us, he can't have her.

It's that simple and that complicated.

His jaw works like he wants to say something— to argue, to fight, to stake his claim —but the elevator doors are already closing.

The last thing I see is his face, a mirror of my own twisted with emotions I understand all too well: r age, hurt, jealousy, and underneath it all, a loneliness that he'll never admit to.

The doors close with a soft whisper, leaving us in a silence that feels heavier than any argument.

I stand there staring at the brushed steel surface, my own reflection staring back at me distorted and warped. Behind me, I can feel the weight of my pack's attention—their questions, their concerns, their judgment of how I handled this confrontation with my twin.

"Well," Dex says after a long moment, his voice carefully neutral. "That went well."

Kieran snorts.

"About as well as a ten-car pile-up in turn one."

"He'll be back," Caspian says quietly, always the optimist despite his practical nature. "He always comes back."

But that's the problem, isn't it?

The cycle of departure and return, of betrayal and forgiveness, of pushing away and pulling close.

It's exhausting, this dance we do around each other, never quite able to fully separate but never able to fully unite either.

I turn away from the elevator, suddenly feeling every one of my twenty-six years. The weight of being pack Alpha, of being the responsible twin, of being the one who has to make the hard decisions—it all presses down on my shoulders like a physical burden.

"We should give Auren some time," I say, trying to refocus on what matters. "Let Luke help her through the migraine, then we can?—"

"Then we can what?" Kieran interrupts, his frustration evident. "Pretend that scene didn't just happen? Act like we're one big happy pack when your brother is out there making deals with God knows who?"

He's right, of course.

The situation with Lucius is a ticking time bomb, made worse by our sudden public exposure.

Every move we make from now on will be scrutinized, analyzed, turned into headlines and gossip.

And having a rogue twin with a grudge and connections to racing's seedier elements? That's a recipe for disaster.

"We protect what's ours," I say simply. "Auren, the pack, our position in Formula One. Everything else is secondary."

But even as I say it, I know it's not that simple.

Because Lucius is my brother, my blood, my other half in ways that transcend pack bonds.

And despite everything— despite his choices, his betrayals, his stubborn refusal to see what's right in front of him —I still want to protect him too.

From the world.

From his so-called pack.

From himself.

The problem is, he doesn't want my protection. He wants my position, my success, my life—everything I have that he thinks should have been his if he'd been born four minutes earlier. And now he wants Auren too, not because she's his scent match or his true mate, but because she's mine.

She's ours.

And that's something I'll never let him take, no matter how much it hurts to draw that line between us.

The hallway feels too quiet now, the echo of confrontation still hanging in the air like smoke after a fire.

We're all thinking the same thing, even if no one wants to say it out loud: this is far from over.

Lucius will be back, his fake pack will cause problems, and Auren will be caught in the middle of a war between brothers who should know better.

But for now, we wait.

We stand in this hallway like sentinels, protecting our Omega from the chaos we've brought into her life, hoping that when she's ready to face us again, we'll have figured out how to be what she needs.

All of us together, or not at all.

The elevator remains closed, silent, a barrier between what is and what could have been.

And in that silence, I make a promise to myself and to my pack: we protect Auren first.

Even if it means protecting her from my own brother.

Choosing between blood and bond.