Page 163 of Knot So Fast
"Will I be cleared to race?" I ask.
"The doctors say yes, if you continue healing at this rate. But Auren..." He pulls back enough to look at me, his eyes serious. "If Lucius is really behind this, if he's working with someone to?—"
"Then the final race is where he'll make his move," I finish. "Whatever his endgame is, it'll happen there."
We sit with that knowledge, heavy and inevitable. The Grand Sphynx—the final race, held at the Yas Marina Circuit in Abu Dhabi. Twenty-three drivers pushing themselves to the absolute limit, championships on the line, millions watching worldwide.
If someone wanted to make a statement, to end things definitively, that would be the stage.
"We'll protect you," Lachlan says fiercely. "The whole pack, Katie's security, everyone. You won't be alone for a second."
"I know," I assure him, though we both know that if someone's determined enough, protection only goes so far.
I think about Dimitri, sacrificing his career to save me. About the brake lines that failed at exactly the same moment. About Lucius taking his seat on the team that's been their biggest rival for years. The pieces are all there, forming a picture I don't want to see but can't ignore.
"What if we're wrong?" I ask quietly. "What if it's not him?"
Lachlan's silence is answer enough. We both know the evidence is overwhelming, the coincidences too numerous to ignore. But there's still that small part of me—the part that remembers how Lucius looked at me sometimes, like I was his whole world compressed into a single person—that wants to believe we're missing something.
"Then we'll deal with that when we have proof," he says finally. "But until then, we have to assume the worst and prepare accordingly."
Practical. Logical. Everything Lucius never was.
I close my eyes, exhausted by injury and revelation in equal measure. "Stay with me? Just for a while?"
"Always," he promises, shifting so we're lying down properly, my head on his chest where I can hear his heartbeat—steady, strong, reliable.
As I drift toward sleep, I think about the upcoming race. The Grand Sphynx, where everything will be decided. Championships, rivalries, and apparently, whether the man I spent a year trying to love wants me dead or just gone.
Two weeks to heal. Two weeks to prepare. Two weeks until we find out what Lucius's endgame really is, and whether any of us will survive it.
The thought should terrify me. Instead, all I feel is a bone-deep weariness and a resolution that's been hardening since I woke up in that medical center.
If Lucius wants a war, he'll get one. But he seems to have forgotten something crucial—I've already survived two attempts on my life. I've risen from literal flames twice now.
Phoenix, I called my car before it exploded. Maybe that's what I am now—something that burns and rises, burns and rises, each time coming back harder to kill than before.
Let him come. Let him try whatever he's planning.
Because if there's one thing I've learned, it's that Wolfe's pack protects its own. And whether Lucius likes it or not, I'm theirs now.
The choice has been made.
Now we all have to live with the consequences.
COLLATERAL DAMAGE
~LUCIUS~
The whiskey burns less with each glass, which is probably a sign I should stop, but stopping would mean thinking clearly and that's the last thing I want right now.
My penthouse spreads out around me—all that marble and glass and modern minimalism that's supposed to scream success but really just echoes with emptiness. The view of Monaco at night should be spectacular, all those lights twinkling like earthbound stars, but all I see is a city full of people who have no idea what's coming.
The final race. The Grand Sphynx. In five days, everything will be decided—championships, legacies, and whether I'm the villain everyone already thinks I am.
I hate this. Every fucking second of it.
The whiskey swirls in my glass, amber catching the light from the single lamp I've bothered to turn on. The rest of the penthouse sits in darkness because that's what villains do, right? Brood in the dark with their expensive liquor and their terrible choices.
