Page 109 of Knot So Lucky

Cale's eyebrow arches with surprise that cuts through his panic.

"You were interested in an Omega before Aurora?"

"I wasn't," I clarify quickly. "Neither was Adrian. It was Luca?—"

"What?"

The new voice cuts through our conversation with sharp demand.

We both turn to see Luca Thorne stomping down the hallway toward us, Adrian trailing behind with the put-upon expression of someone whose job involves constant damage control.

Luca's scent—cedar and leather mixed with gunpowder and rain—intensifies with his approach, carrying aggression that makes my own Alpha instincts want to respond in kind.

But this isn't the time for dominance challenges.

"What's wrong?" I ask, keeping my voice level despite the tension radiating off Luca in waves.

Adrian sighs with the exhaustion of someone who's had a very long day and suspects it's about to get exponentially longer.

"We're going to have to use a different exit," he explains, adjusting his glasses with one hand while gesturing vaguely behind them with the other. "The main entrance is surrounded by reporters. Absolute feeding frenzy after Luca's dramatic walkout."

His tone suggests this is somehow Luca's fault, which is probably accurate.

Adrian leans forward slightly, extending his hand toward me with professional courtesy.

"Adrian Chen, by the way. Pack coordinator and professional cleaner of Luca's messes." His smile is warm despite the sarcasm. "Where did Miss Lane go?" Adrian asks, looking around like Aurora might materialize from the walls.

"Bathroom," Cale answers, but his eyes are back on his watch, and the anxiety has ramped up from concerning to alarming.

Footsteps echo down the hallway—quick, purposeful, carrying urgency.

Jenna appears around the corner, moving at a speed just shy of running. Her Beta scent is spiked with stress pheromones sharp enough to make everyone tense.

"Have you seen Rory?" she demands without preamble.

"She's in the washroom," Cale says, but there's a question in his tone now. "Why?"

Jenna looks at our group—me, Cale, Luca, Adrian—and hesitates visibly.

"They know," Cale adds quickly, reading her uncertainty. "About Aurora. It's fine. What's wrong?"

Jenna pulls out several sheets of paper from the folder she's carrying, holding them up so we can see the graphs and data points covering the pages.

"I think Rory's about to go into Heat."

The statement lands like a bomb.

All of us freeze, processing that information and its implications.

"How do you know?" I ask, my medical training kicking in automatically.

Jenna points to specific sections of the printouts—vitals tracked during the race, temperature readings, hormonal markers that I can interpret even from several feet away.

"I felt her temperature was off when she was in the car. These readings confirm it. Core temperature elevated by two degrees, heart rate inconsistent with exertion levels, hormonal spike that matches pre-Heat indicators."

"Was the car's temperature control elevated?" Cale asks, grasping at logical explanations. "Could the readings be affected by environmental factors?"

Jenna shakes her head definitively.