Page 88 of Knot So Fast (Speedverse #1)

The checkered flag waves somewhere in the distance. Auren crosses the line first, becoming the first Omega to win a Formula One race. It should be a moment of triumph, of vindication, of proving every doubter wrong.

Instead, it's the moment everything breaks.

Kieran's voice crackles through the radio, desperate: "Lachlan, are you okay? Can you get out?"

"The harness is jammed," I manage, my voice not sounding like my own. "But I'm—" I can't say fine. Can't say okay. Can't say any of the automatic responses because my twin brother is burning to death fifty meters away and there's nothing I can do about it.

More voices flood the channel—Harrison asking for status updates, Caspian demanding information about the fire suppression systems, Luke coordinating with medical teams. But it all fades to white noise against the crackling of flames that I can hear even through my helmet.

The image sears itself into my retinas—the pillar of fire and smoke marking the spot where Lucius Wolfe ceased to exist. The brother I spent three years hating for choices that weren't really his. The twin I pushed away when he needed me most. The other half of my soul that I'll never get back.

He saved me. Knowing what it would cost, knowing he wouldn't survive it, he turned into me anyway. Made the choice in a fraction of a second to trade his life for mine.

The ultimate commitment from someone we all thought couldn't commit to anything.

Finally, a marshal reaches my car with cutting equipment. The harness comes free, and hands pull me from the cockpit, but my legs won't support me. I collapse onto the tarmac, helmet still on, staring at the inferno that used to be my brother.

"We need to get you to medical," someone is saying, but I can't move. Can't look away. Can't process the fact that we won—Titan Racing will take the constructor's championship, I'll have my fifth consecutive driver's title, Auren made history—but the cost...

The cost is everything.

Auren appears in my field of vision, having abandoned her car the moment she crossed the line.

She's pulled her helmet off, and tears are streaming down her face, mixing with the blood from wounds that have reopened.

She drops to her knees beside me, pulling me against her despite her broken ribs, despite the pain it must cause.

"I'm sorry," she whispers against my helmet. "I'm so sorry. He saved you. He saved you."

Like that makes it better. Like that doesn't make it infinitely worse.

The fire crews are working desperately, but there's nothing left to save.

The Ferrari is a twisted, burning skeleton.

And somewhere in that inferno are the remains of my brother, who died thinking I hated him.

Who died never knowing I'd finally learned the truth—that he'd been protecting us all along, playing the villain to keep us safe.

The paddock will celebrate our victory tonight. Champagne will flow, bonuses will be calculated, history will be written about the first Omega to win a Formula One race.

But all I can see is fire.

All I can hear is the echo of my brother's name tearing from my throat.

All I can feel is the weight of a victory that tastes like ash and loss and the terrible understanding that sometimes the price of winning is everything that actually matters.

We exposed Terek. We won the championship. We survived.

But Lucius didn't.

And that truth is going to haunt me for the rest of my life—that my twin brother, my other half, my greatest rival and deepest regret, loved me enough to die for me. Proved his commitment in the most final way possible.

The medical team is trying to move me, to get me away from the scene, but I can't stop staring at the flames. Can't stop seeing his eyes in that final moment before impact, when he knew what he was about to do.

There was no fear in them. No hesitation.

Just determination. And maybe, if I'm not imagining it, something like peace. Like finally, after three years of running, he'd found a way to stop. To choose. To commit to something worth dying for.

His brother. His family. Us.

The fire burns on, and with it burns the last chance I'll ever have to tell Lucius Wolfe that I loved him. That I forgave him. That he was never in my shadow—he was my equal, my opposite, my completion.

The champagne will taste like tears tonight.

The victory will feel like defeat.

And I'll spend the rest of my life wondering if there was something—anything—I could have done differently that would have saved us both.

But that's the thing about racing, about life, about the choices we make at 300 kilometers per hour with no time to think?—

Sometimes there are no good outcomes.

Sometimes someone has to lose for someone else to win.

And sometimes, the greatest love looks like a Ferrari turning into your car, accepting death to give you life.

"I'm sorry," I whisper to the flames, to the ghost of my brother, to the universe that demanded this price. "I'm so fucking sorry."

But sorry doesn't bring back the dead.

Sorry doesn't undo the three years we wasted.

Sorry doesn't change the fact that Lucius Wolfe died a hero, and I have to live with being the one he saved.

The fire finally starts to die under the assault of foam and chemicals, but it's far too late. My brother is gone, and all the championships in the world won't bring him back.

We won.

But God, at what cost?

At what fucking cost?