Page 63 of Knot So Lucky

"It could have germs—" Cale adds.

But the kitten just purrs louder, tiny body vibrating with contentment as it settles against Rory's sternum like it belongs there. Like it's claiming territory and has no intention of being moved.

Santos pauses in her work, looking at the kitten with an expression that suggests she's seen weirder things but not by much.

"As long as it's not interfering with medical care," she says slowly, "I suppose it's fine?"

The three of us stare at the kitten. The kitten purrs contentedly. Rory remains unconscious, breathing steadily and strongly beneath the small warm weight.

"That's your pack's kitten?" Roran asks, voice flat with disbelief.

"Yeah." I watch the kitten knead tiny paws against Rory's chest, claws carefully retracted. "Must have snuck into my equipment bag. We've been fostering it for a couple of weeks."

"Who the hellareyou?" Cale's eyes narrow with suspicion. "You said Elias, but that doesn't tell us shit."

I consider deflecting.

Consider maintaining the nerdy tech persona and avoiding complications.

But these two clearly have connections and resources, and they're going to run background checks the moment they have an opportunity.

Better to control the narrative now than have them discover details I'd prefer to keep private.

I adjust my posture slightly—nothing dramatic, but enough that the casualness becomes something more deliberate.

More controlled.

When I speak, my voice carries a different edge. The tone I use in family business meetings, when being underestimated is no longer useful.

"Elias Vance. Lead mechanic and AI systems engineer for Thorne Racing's prototype development division." I pause, watching their reactions. "Heir to the Vance branch of the Bravati family."

The effect is immediate.

Both of them go still in that particular way that suggests they recognize the name and are rapidly recalculating the threat assessment.

The Bravati family operates in circles that occasionally intersect with legitimate business but are more commonly associated with... less legal activities. Arms dealing, information brokerage, and strategic acquisitions that don't bear close scrutiny. We're not as publicly wealthy as families like the Lanes,but we have connections that money can't buy and influence that operates in shadows rather than boardrooms.

The ambulance is moving fast—I can feel the turns, hear the sirens clearing traffic ahead of us. We're headed to some private medical facility, based on the coordinates I glimpsed on Santos's tablet. The kind of place that caters to wealthy families who need discretion more than they need insurance approval.

Mafia heirs. Drug lords. Biker club leadership.

The kind of clientele who pay in cash and ask no questions as long as confidentiality is guaranteed.

"You can do your background checks later," I continue, keeping my voice level. "But I'm one hundred percent confident he's my scent match. And until he wakes up and I can ensure he's okay, I'm not going to be gotten rid of that easily."

The challenge hangs in the air between us.

Cale and Roran exchange a look—entire conversations happening in the space of seconds through expressions and minute body language shifts that speak to years of knowing each other.

Finally, Roran speaks.

"You realize what you're saying. What you're getting involved in."

It's not a question.

"Yes." I meet his eyes steadily. "I nearly died today because I ran onto a track to save a kitten. Your—" I hesitate over the pronoun, "—driver nearly died saving me from my own stupidity. That creates a debt I take very seriously."

"And the scent match thing?" Cale's voice is carefully neutral. "That's not just Alpha instincts running hot from adrenaline?"