Page 101 of Knot So Fast
The cocky smile that spreads across his face is pure performance, the mask he wears when he's hurt and trying not to show it.
"Fuck you, brother, and your stupid pack," he says, his voice carrying that particular brand of venom reserved for family. "I'll do what I want."
I meet his gaze steadily, pouring every ounce of Alpha authority I possess into my next words. This isn't just brother to brother anymore—this is pack Alpha to potential threat, and we both know it.
"Then Auren's off limits," I say, each word precise and final. "I mean it."
The challenge hangs between us, crackling with tension.
This is the line in the sand, the boundary that can't be crossed without consequences.
If he's not with us, he can't have her.
It's that simple and that complicated.
His jaw works like he wants to say something—to argue, to fight, to stake his claim—but the elevator doors are already closing. The last thing I see is his face, a mirror of my own twisted with emotions I understand all too well: rage, hurt, jealousy, and underneath it all, a loneliness that he'll never admit to.
The doors close with a soft whisper, leaving us in a silence that feels heavier than any argument.
I stand there staring at the brushed steel surface, my own reflection staring back at me distorted and warped. Behind me, I can feel the weight of my pack's attention—their questions, their concerns, their judgment of how I handled this confrontation with my twin.
"Well," Dex says after a long moment, his voice carefully neutral. "That went well."
Kieran snorts.
"About as well as a ten-car pile-up in turn one."
"He'll be back," Caspian says quietly, always the optimist despite his practical nature. "He always comes back."
But that's the problem, isn't it?
The cycle of departure and return, of betrayal and forgiveness, of pushing away and pulling close.
It's exhausting, this dance we do around each other, never quite able to fully separate but never able to fully unite either.
I turn away from the elevator, suddenly feeling every one of my twenty-six years. The weight of being pack Alpha, of beingthe responsible twin, of being the one who has to make the hard decisions—it all presses down on my shoulders like a physical burden.
"We should give Auren some time," I say, trying to refocus on what matters. "Let Luke help her through the migraine, then we can?—"
"Then we can what?" Kieran interrupts, his frustration evident. "Pretend that scene didn't just happen? Act like we're one big happy pack when your brother is out there making deals with God knows who?"
He's right, of course.
The situation with Lucius is a ticking time bomb, made worse by our sudden public exposure. Every move we make from now on will be scrutinized, analyzed, turned into headlines and gossip. And having a rogue twin with a grudge and connections to racing's seedier elements? That's a recipe for disaster.
"We protect what's ours," I say simply. "Auren, the pack, our position in Formula One. Everything else is secondary."
But even as I say it, I know it's not that simple.
Because Lucius is my brother, my blood, my other half in ways that transcend pack bonds.
And despite everything—despite his choices, his betrayals, his stubborn refusal to see what's right in front of him—I still want to protect him too.
From the world.
From his so-called pack.
From himself.
