Page 72 of Knot So Fast
"Until?" Marcus prompts, leaning forward with genuine curiosity now rather than professional interest.
I meet his gaze steadily. "Until you involve a certain Omega in the mix."
The words hang between us, heavy with implication.
Marcus might be a gossip, but he's not stupid. He knows there's a story there, something bigger than manufactured twin rivalry or racing drama.
"If anyone tries to bring up anything regarding Vale," I say quietly, my voice carrying the kind of threat that has nothing to do with our professional relationship, "you shut that shit down. I don't care how much they pay us. You hear me?"
He swallows hard, nodding quickly.
"I don't want to deal with that family any more than you do. Or the other ones—the Lanes and Harts. Nobody with half a brain fucks with those families or their Omega daughters."
We both know why.
The Vale, Lane, and Hart families aren't just wealthy—they're the kind of powerful that operates on a completely different level. Old money mixed with new technology, influence that spans continents and industries, the kind of people who can make problems disappear with a phone call.
And their daughters—Auren, Rory, and Wren—are protected with the fierce devotion usually reserved for national treasures or nuclear weapons.
Touch them without permission, and you don't just face legal consequences.
You face complete annihilation.
"Thirty seconds to air," the producer's voice interrupts our moment of understanding.
I straighten in my chair, pulling my professional mask back into place as the screens shift to show the pre-race preparations. The camera finds Lachlan in the garage, and my chest tightens at the sight of him.
He's suiting up with mechanical precision, every movement controlled and efficient. But I know him well enough to read the tension in his shoulders, the tightness around his eyes, the way his jaw is set like he's preparing for battle rather than a race.
I know that look.
It's the same expression he wore the day he made his decision about Auren, about stepping back, about honoring her parents' wishes even though it was killing him.
It's the look of a man who's made up his mind and won't be swayed, no matter the cost.
He's not letting any Omega join him on the track today.
Which means by the end of this race, Lachlan Wolfe—four-time world champion, the face of Formula One, my pack brother—will be forced to step down from the sport he's dominated for years.
The unfairness of it makes me want to rage, to tear apart this glass booth and everything it represents.
We've all sacrificed for the sport, given up pieces of ourselves in pursuit of speed and glory. But Lachlan gave up more than most. He gave up Auren, gave up the future they'd planned, gave up everything that mattered because it was the "right" thing to do.
And now the sport is asking him to betray that sacrifice by bonding with another Omega, even temporarily.
The ON AIR light flashes red, and Marcus launches back into his commentary with renewed enthusiasm. But I find myself staring at the screen, at Lachlan's stoic expression as he slides his helmet on, and I know what he's thinking.
He's thinking about her.
About the way she used to kiss him before every race, a good luck ritual that became as essential as breathing. About how she'd trace the number on his car with one finger, claiming it as hers. About the plans they made for after he retired—a houseon the coast, maybe kids, definitely a garage full of classic cars they'd restore together.
All of it gone because of one night, one accident, one moment that shattered everything.
"Dex?" Marcus's voice pulls me back to the present. "Your thoughts on Lachlan's strategy for today's race?"
I clear my throat, falling back on professionalism when emotion threatens to overwhelm.
"Lachlan's always been a strategic driver. He calculates risks, plans his moves three steps ahead. Today won't be any different."
