Page 186 of Knot So Lucky

Elias jogs over, not even winded from his warm-up.

"Worth it," he says cheerfully, giving me a smile that makes my chest warm despite the impending physical torture.

"Totally worth it," I agree, remembering the dinner, the wine, the way Elias marked my neck with that hickey that's still visible despite my attempts to cover it.

Adrian groans dramatically. "I'm too rich to be struggling with the team like this. I could be sleeping in silk sheets right now. With a personal massage therapist on call."

"And yet here you are," Cale points out, grinning. "Suffering with the rest of us peasants."

"Because I'm a goddamn professional," Adrian mutters, but he's smiling as he joins our group.

The scents of the pack mix together—dark chocolate and gunpowder, burnt cedar and coffee, warm amber and vanilla, sandalwood and steel, and my own smoke and vanilla. The combination creates something uniquelyours, a scent profile that marks us as pack to anyone with functioning olfactory senses.

"Alright," Luca announces, his Alpha authority making everyone snap to attention despite the early hour. "Five miles. I'm setting pace. Keep up or explain why you couldn't in the debrief meeting afterward."

"Fuck," Cale mutters. "He's inthatmood."

Luca's "pace" turns out to be absolutely brutal.

He takes off like he's being chased by demons, eating up ground with long strides that force the rest of us to push just to stay within reasonable distance. His competitive nature apparently extends to morning runs, because he's clearly trying to break us.

Adrian keeps up surprisingly well despite his complaints, his breathing controlled and steady. The billionaire playboy facade hides genuine athletic capability, muscles working efficiently to maintain the grueling speed.

Cale runs beside him, occasionally throwing out commentary that would be annoying if it wasn't so accurate.

"Thorne's compensating for something," he pants. "Probably jealous about Elias's date success."

"Shut up, Hart," Luca calls back without breaking stride. "Save your breath for running."

"I have plenty of breath," Cale lies, his words coming out winded. "Could run circles around you."

"Prove it then."

The challenge makes Cale surge forward, and suddenly it's a race within the run. The two of them pushing each other with competitive energy that would be toxic if it wasn't also clearly strengthening their bond.

Elias runs beside me, keeping pace easily despite the punishment lap hanging over our heads. His breathing is controlled, efficient, the product of years of physical training.

"You good?" he asks quietly, voice barely audible over the sound of our feet hitting pavement.

"Yeah." I push through the burning in my lungs, the ache in my legs. "Actually kind of enjoying this. The push. The early morning clarity."

Because there's something meditative about running at dawn.

The world still quiet, the air fresh and cool, nothing to focus on except breathing and movement and the pack around me.

It grounds me in ways I didn't expect.

Reminds me that despite all the chaos and complications, I have this. People who push me to be better, who run beside me literally and figuratively.

We complete the five miles as a unit—ragged and breathing hard, but together. Even Luca's murderous pace can't break us apart.

Then Elias and I continue for the extra lap while the others recover, and somehow it doesn't feel like punishment at all. Just more time to run and talk and exist in the liminal space between night and day.

By the time we finish, the sun is fully up, painting the sky in shades of gold and pink that make the exhaustion worth it.

The pit stop drills are where my skills truly shine.

I'm in the car—one of our prototype racers, stripped down for practice—while the pit crew assembles around me with focused intensity. Marco leading the team, Rodriguez on tires, Chen managing fuel systems, Jenny and Sarah handling aerodynamic adjustments.