Page 99 of Knot So Fast
The hallway feels too small for all of us—five Alphas radiating tension and barely controlled aggression, the air thick with competing pheromones that would probably send any passing Omega into immediate distress. We're all fighting the same instinct:to break down that door and get back to Auren, tomake sure she's okay, to stake our individual claims on her attention and affection.
"We all want to be there for her," I continue, trying to inject some rationality into this powder keg of a situation. "But Luke isn't driving her pheromones up a cactus wall. He's helping, which is more than we can say for ourselves right now."
Lucius's laugh is bitter and sharp.
"That Beta is a cockblocking gatekeeper who thinks he owns her."
Kieran rolls his eyes so hard I'm surprised they don't fall out of his head. He pushes off from the wall where he's been leaning, his dark eyes flashing with irritation.
"Luke isn't bad at all. You're just jealous because he doesn't give a fuck who you are." His voice drops to something more pointed. "And he makes sure you don't have access to their suite so you can't just waltz into her life and fuck her there too whenever you feel like it."
The accusation hangs in the air like a challenge, and I watch my brother's face cycle through several expressions—surprise, anger, and finally, that defensive arrogance he wears like armor.
"Well, since he's your little boy thing," Lucius sneers, his voice dripping with malicious intent, "why don't you go in there and fuck him while you're at it?"
The silence that follows is deafening.
Kieran's entire body goes rigid, his jaw clenching so hard I can hear his teeth grinding. The suggestion isn't just inappropriate—it's deliberately cruel, designed to hurt in the way only someone who knows your history can manage.
"Watch it," Caspian warns, his usually calm voice carrying an edge of steel. He's moved closer to Kieran, not quite stepping between them but positioning himself as a potential barrier.Always the mediator, always trying to prevent the explosion before it happens.
But Lucius isn't done.
He's like a wounded animal, lashing out at anything within range, trying to spread his pain around until everyone else hurts as much as he does.
Dex steps forward, his commentator's training evident in the way he tries to defuse the situation with logic.
"What are you so threatened about, Lucius?" His tone is professional, analytical, the same voice he uses to break down racing strategies for millions of viewers. "We know it's not really about your little bouquet of flowers."
For a moment, I think my brother might actually answer honestly.
His mask slips just slightly, and I catch a glimpse of the lost boy underneath—the one who's always felt like he was living in my shadow, who made terrible choices trying to prove he could succeed on his own terms. But then the walls slam back up, and he's all arrogant dismissal again.
"Nevermind," he mutters, turning toward the elevator. "I'm leaving."
"No." The word comes out harder than I intended, and I move to block his path before I can second-guess myself. "We're gonna have this conversation because now our reputations are on the line and everything we do is going to be watched like hawks."
The media circus has already started. I can feel it in the way my phone keeps vibrating with notifications I'm ignoring, in the knowledge that every major news outlet is probably running stories about the mysterious twin revelation.
By tomorrow, there will be think pieces about our family dynamics, speculation about why we've been kept separate, theories about what this means for Formula One.
Lucius tries to sidestep me, but I match his movement.
We're the same height, the same build, mirror images engaged in a dance we've been performing our whole lives.
"Well, I'm not part of this shit," he says, his voice rising with frustration. "And I'm not planning to race either."
That stops me cold.
"Then why the hell were you trying on suits like some big shot?"
The question catches him off guard, and I see the moment of panic in his eyes before he covers it with bluster.
"What? You think you're the only big shot Wolfe being offered contracts?"
Of course he's been fielding offers.The moment our connection became public, every team that's ever wanted to knock me off my pedestal would be reaching out to him. The twin of the champion, the wild card, the potential weakness in my armor.
They'd promise him everything—money, glory, the chance to finally beat me at something that matters.
