Page 147 of Knot So Lucky

I mentally groan, closing my eyes against the visceral memories.

This is going to be a painful few weeks.

Because Aurora Lane is everything I didn't want in an Omega—challenging, difficult, refusing to submit or defer or make herself small for anyone's comfort.She bites when threatened, argues when challenged, and apparently has zero compunction about walking around wearing my packmate's shirt like it's the most natural thing in the world.

And despite all of that—maybe even because of all of that—my Alpha instincts are screaming that she's perfect.

That she's exactly what our pack has been missing.

That I'm fighting a losing battle against biology and fate and the simple reality that Aurora Lane has already claimed her place in our pack, whether I'm ready to admit it or not.

Fuck my life.

CHAPTER 28

Coming Home, Moving Forward

~AURORA~

The garage smells like I’m returning home.

Motor oil and rubber, welding fumes and that particular metallic tang that comes from high-performance machinery being pushed to its limits. The scent hits me the moment I walk through the side entrance, and something in my chest unclenches with relief I wasn't expecting.

I'm wearing baggy clothes—deliberately oversized hoodie and loose jeans that hide my shape, comfortable sneakers that have seen better days. My hair is freshly cut, maintaining the short masculine style I've cultivated for years. The binding is back in place, flattening my chest into something that reads as male rather than female.

Back to being Rory Lane, pit tech extraordinaire.

Except now everyone knows I'm an Omega, which changes literally everything while somehow changing nothing at all.

I bite into the apple I grabbed from the break room, the crisp sweetness bursting across my tongue as I survey the organized chaos of the garage floor.

And immediately spot a problem.

There's a group of techs—maybe eight or ten of them—clustered around someone in the center. Voices overlap in confusion and accusation, the particular pitch of an argument that's been going on too long without resolution.

"For thetwentieth time," a familiar voice cuts through the chaos, frustration evident, "I'm Roran. So can y'all stop acting like I'm trying to be my sister?"

Roran. My twin brother, who apparently walked into the garage and immediately got mobbed by people who can't tell us apart.

The irony is not lost on me.

"He's probably fooling us," one of the male techs argues, crossing his arms. "Rory's been gone for a whole week. This is probably some twin-switch bullshit to fuck with us."

"Are you allblind?" Jenny's voice rises above the others, sharp with exasperation. One of the few female techs on our crew, she's never had patience for incompetence. "That's clearly not Rory. Different stance, different mannerisms, completely different energy."

Sarah, the other female Beta tech, nods emphatically.

"Right? Like, I know we're in a male-dominated field, but you can't tell me none of you notice the obvious differences?"

Jenny sighs dramatically, looking at the ceiling like she's praying for patience.

"Men."

I roll my eyes so hard I practically see my own brain, taking another bite of apple while I watch the circus.

The differences between Roran and me are obvious if you know what to look for. He carries himself with the particular confidence that comes from being raised as the golden child—shoulders back, head high, taking up space like it's his birthright.His smile is easier, more open, untainted by years of hiding fundamental aspects of his identity.

We have the same face, same coloring, same genetic foundation. But everything else—the way we move through the world, the masks we wear, the weight we carry—is completely different.