Page 44 of Knot So Fast
"What the fuck are you so afraid of?" I ask myself aloud, my voice echoing in the small space of the car. "Death?"
The question hangs in the air like a challenge, and I find myself genuinely considering it. Is that really what this is about? Am I so terrified of dying because I've already experienced death once and only remember fragments of being pulled back from whatever comes after? Is that why I've been so careful, so controlled, so determined to live the safe little life everyone keeps pushing me toward?
I sigh heavily and grip the steering wheel with both hands, pressing my forehead against the cool leather as I try to calm my breathing and slow my racing heart. The rain continues to pound against the roof like an accusation, like nature itself is disappointed in my reckless behavior.
I talk to myself in the darkness, the way therapists have taught me to do when panic threatens to overwhelm my ability to function.
"You're okay. You're alive. The car is fine. Nobody got hurt. You can handle this."
But even as I say the words, tears are spilling down my face, and my parents' voices are repeating in my head like a broken record.No more riding, no more racing. Just be a normal individual in this world until a pack comes along and marries you off to someone who can take proper care of you.
Is that really the life I want?
Is that the future I'm supposed to accept—giving up everything that makes me feel alive so I can become someone's decorative Omega wife, hosting dinner parties and making small talk about pilates classes and charity galas?
I grip the steering wheel even tighter, my knuckles white with the force of it, when suddenly there's a sharp knock on thedriver's side window that makes me jump so hard I nearly hit my head on the roof.
My heart, which had finally started to calm down, immediately kicks back into overdrive. I huff out a shaky breath, knowing I have to face whoever is out there—probably the driver of the other car I nearly turned into roadkill.
I'm going to have to apologize, exchange insurance information, maybe deal with police reports and citations for reckless driving. Not that my parents can't make all of that disappear with the right amount of money and the appropriate hush payments to the right people.
I sigh and quickly open the door, sliding out into the rain that immediately soaks through my clothes and plasters my hair to my skull. The cold water is actually a relief after the suffocating heat of panic and adrenaline that's been building in the car.
"Listen, I didn't see—" I begin, lifting my head to face the person standing there in the downpour, ready to grovel and apologize and do whatever damage control is necessary.
But the words die in my throat as my eyes widen to take in the figure before me. It's a man dressed entirely in black, water dripping from his hair and clothes, an Alpha whose scent cuts through even the heavy rain to hit my enhanced senses like a physical blow.
He's staring back at me with eyes that are hauntingly familiar, eyes that make my entire body go still as if my wild heartbeat has suddenly decided to pause at the very sight of him. Those eyes are the same blue-green that haunts my dreams, the same shade that makes my Omega purr even when my rational mind is screaming warnings.
My head pounds with a pain so intense it makes me dizzy, and I can't seem to remember how to breathe properly.
A moment of déjà vu hits me like a freight train loaded with memories I can't quite access, fragments of scenes that feel real and impossible at the same time.
Rain streams down both our faces as we stand there in the middle of the road, and I have the strangest sensation that this has happened before.
That I've stood in the rain facing this man, that we've had this moment of recognition and terror and something that might be hope if I was brave enough to name it.
But confusion slaps me back into reality as I struggle to process what's happening, why this stranger feels like coming home and running away at the same time, why every instinct I possess is telling me that this moment is significant in ways I can't understand.
I dare to whisper the name that's been living in my head all day, the name that's attached to so many questions I don't know how to ask.
"Lucius?"
TWIN FLAMES
~LACHLAN~
"Lucius?"
The name hits me like a physical blow, echoing through the rain-soaked night with all the weight of a year's worth of suppressed longing and bitter acceptance. I've gotten used to hearing my younger twin brother's name on the lips of the Omega I'm absolutely smitten for—heard it whispered in conversations I shouldn't have been listening to, seen it written in messages I shouldn't have read, felt it hanging in the air between us during those online gaming sessions where she had no idea who she was really talking to.
But hearing it now, with her standing there drenched in the rain, looking simultaneously frightened and exhilarated with those uniquely storm-colored eyes dilated wide enough to swallow me whole—it makes me want to lose my shit in ways that would violate every promise I've made to keep my distance.
I take her in slowly, methodically, the way a man dying of thirst might savor the sight of an oasis even if he knows it might be a mirage. The silk black dress she's wearing clings to her body like it was painted on, every curve highlighted by the way the wet fabric molds to her skin. The elegant gown that lookedsophisticated and untouchable at her parents' dinner table has transformed into something primal and raw, pointing out all those curves I used to admire with my eyes before my hands got to explore every inch of them.
The rain has turned her into something out of a fever dream—water streaming down her face, her hair plastered to her skull in dark ribbons, her makeup running in delicate rivers that somehow make her look more beautiful rather than less. She's pale beneath the moonlight, her skin almost luminescent in the way that only comes from shock and adrenaline, but her cheeks carry the perfect level of blush that tells me her body is responding to more than just the near-death experience she just had.
Those dilated eyes—that impossible mixture of lavender and sapphire that changes with her moods—take me in like I'm a ghost from her past and yet a reflection of her present. Which makes perfect sense given the current circumstances. To her conscious mind, I'm Lucius. The twin she doesn't know exists. The copy of the man she's been fucking without remembering that there used to be two of us in her life, in her bed, in her heart.
