Page 79 of Knot So Fast (Speedverse #1)

The silence stretches between us, heavy with things unsaid. His jaw works like he's chewing on words he doesn't want to speak.

"What's going on, Lachlan?"

He sighs, the sound carrying three weeks' worth of exhaustion. "Lucius got first."

The words land like physical blows. Lucius. First. At Monza, one of the most prestigious races of the season.

"He replaced Dimitri on Ferrari," Lachlan continues, each word careful and measured. "The same team that was using him three years ago. The ones who belittled him, almost threw him under the bus, who play dirty every chance they get."

His hands clench into fists, the racing gloves creaking with the pressure.

"I'll give it to Dimitri that him saving you gave him a clean streak in my books.

But to see my own brother decide to join them out of opportunity, knowing they're not only competition but have tried to hurt us before? It's uncalled for."

"There's more to this, isn't there?" I ask, though I already know the answer.

He's quiet for so long I think he might not answer. Then: "Luke, Katie, and I have been gathering all the threats. The messages, the photos, the surveillance."

My stomach drops, already knowing where this is going but needing to hear it anyway.

"They're all leading to Lucius."

The words hang between us like a death sentence. Lucius. The man I've been on-and-off with for a year. The twin who could never quite commit. The one who's been circling our pack like a satellite that can't decide whether to crash or escape orbit.

"He's the one threatening me?" The words come out smaller than intended, disbelief and hurt tangled together.

It doesn't make sense. Lucius is complicated, stubborn, sometimes cruel in his indifference, but this? Orchestrating threats, surveillance, possibly even the sabotage? It feels wrong, like trying to force a puzzle piece into the wrong space.

Lachlan sighs, his arm coming around me carefully, mindful of my ribs. "We've always had tension. Him the bad twin, me the good one. It's always come down to commitment issues. But more than that..."

He pauses, choosing his words carefully. "Lucius can't see himself sharing anything. Not toys when we were kids, not roles, not teams, and definitely not his Omega."

The implication sits cold in my chest. "So he'd rather me be... dead?"

"Never," Lachlan says immediately, vehemently. "He would never—" He cuts himself off, running his free hand through his hair. "But the evidence implies... it's pointing toward..."

"That if he can't have me, no one can," I finish quietly.

The silence that follows is deafening. Outside, Monaco continues its eternal party, oblivious to the way my world is reshaping itself around this horrible possibility.

"I remember we were arguing," I say finally, needing to fill the silence. "Before the accident—the first one. We were fighting about something, but I can't recall what exactly. But I remember how it ended. I told him he'd lose everything he loves and walked out."

"It could have happened," Lachlan agrees. "We never were able to figure out why you two were fighting before the accident. Your phone was destroyed in the crash, and Lucius claimed he didn't know what upset you."

Claimed. The word choice isn't lost on me.

"We think..." Lachlan pauses, then pushes forward. "We think we'll have to give up on Lucius. Cut him out completely. For everyone's safety, but especially yours."

The words should hurt more than they do.

Maybe it's the medication, or the exhaustion, or the accumulation of too many betrayals, but all I feel is a kind of hollow acceptance.

Lucius made his choice—has been making it over and over for years.

The pack or independence. Us or them. Commitment or freedom.

He's chosen, and we have to live with that choice.

I snuggle deeper into Lachlan's embrace, careful of my ribs but needing the comfort of contact. His arms tighten around me, his chin resting on top of my head, and for a moment we just breathe together.

"If it means protecting the pack..." I whisper, the words barely audible even in the quiet of my room. "So be it."

I feel him tense, then relax, like he was expecting a fight and is relieved not to get one. But what's the point of fighting for someone who's already chosen to stand on the other side of the battlefield?

"The Grand Sphynx is in two weeks," he says quietly. "Final race of the season. Everything will be decided there."

The championship. The constructor's title. And, apparently, whatever game Lucius is playing.

"Will I be cleared to race?" I ask.

"The doctors say yes, if you continue healing at this rate. But Auren..." He pulls back enough to look at me, his eyes serious. "If Lucius is really behind this, if he's working with someone to?—"

"Then the final race is where he'll make his move," I finish. "Whatever his endgame is, it'll happen there."

We sit with that knowledge, heavy and inevitable. The Grand Sphynx—the final race, held at the Yas Marina Circuit in Abu Dhabi. Twenty-three drivers pushing themselves to the absolute limit, championships on the line, millions watching worldwide.

If someone wanted to make a statement, to end things definitively, that would be the stage.

"We'll protect you," Lachlan says fiercely. "The whole pack, Katie's security, everyone. You won't be alone for a second."

"I know," I assure him, though we both know that if someone's determined enough, protection only goes so far.

I think about Dimitri, sacrificing his career to save me. About the brake lines that failed at exactly the same moment. About Lucius taking his seat on the team that's been their biggest rival for years. The pieces are all there, forming a picture I don't want to see but can't ignore.

"What if we're wrong?" I ask quietly. "What if it's not him?"

Lachlan's silence is answer enough. We both know the evidence is overwhelming, the coincidences too numerous to ignore.

But there's still that small part of me—the part that remembers how Lucius looked at me sometimes, like I was his whole world compressed into a single person—that wants to believe we're missing something.

"Then we'll deal with that when we have proof," he says finally. "But until then, we have to assume the worst and prepare accordingly."

Practical. Logical. Everything Lucius never was.

I close my eyes, exhausted by injury and revelation in equal measure. "Stay with me? Just for a while?"

"Always," he promises, shifting so we're lying down properly, my head on his chest where I can hear his heartbeat—steady, strong, reliable.

As I drift toward sleep, I think about the upcoming race. The Grand Sphynx, where everything will be decided. Championships, rivalries, and apparently, whether the man I spent a year trying to love wants me dead or just gone.

Two weeks to heal. Two weeks to prepare. Two weeks until we find out what Lucius's endgame really is, and whether any of us will survive it.

The thought should terrify me. Instead, all I feel is a bone-deep weariness and a resolution that's been hardening since I woke up in that medical center.

If Lucius wants a war, he'll get one. But he seems to have forgotten something crucial—I've already survived two attempts on my life. I've risen from literal flames twice now.

Phoenix, I called my car before it exploded. Maybe that's what I am now—something that burns and rises, burns and rises, each time coming back harder to kill than before.

Let him come. Let him try whatever he's planning.

Because if there's one thing I've learned, it's that Wolfe's pack protects its own. And whether Lucius likes it or not, I'm theirs now.

The choice has been made.

Now we all have to live with the consequences.