Page 66 of Knot So Fast
Never.
MORNING REVELATIONS
~AUREN~
I stir slowly from the depths of sleep, my body deliciously sore in ways that make memories of last night flood back in vivid detail.
The silk sheets against my bare skin feel impossibly luxurious, and I'm surrounded by a scent that's uniquely Lachlan—that intoxicating mixture of expensive cologne, motor oil, and something indefinably male that makes my Omega purr with satisfaction.
I’m ensure if I’m sleeping on a bed or the comfiest couch on earth, remembering the cloud couch that was present in this inviting home catered to my perfect Pinterest board, but either way, she’s nested in, making her wish she had an actual nest that was as comfy as this.
I don’t have a nest period, but it would be nice to enjoy the little luxuries as an Omega that she knows those with packs enjoy…
The sound of frustrated cursing from somewhere nearby pulls me more fully into consciousness, though I keep my eyes closed and my breathing steady. Years of living with overprotective parents have taught me the value of playingpossum when you want to gather information without anyone knowing you're listening.
"For fuck's sake," Lachlan's voice carries from what sounds like the kitchen area, tight with irritation. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"
There's a pause, presumably while whoever's on the other end of the phone call responds.
I hear footsteps pacing across hardwood floors, the sound sharp and agitated.
"Fine. Fine! Just... put it on speaker and stop talking so damn loudly. Some of us are trying to have a peaceful morning without dealing with crisis management."
The click of the speakerphone button is followed by a voice I don't recognize—male, older, with the kind of aggressive energy that screams high-powered business dealings and too much caffeine.
"This new rule requiring an Omega is absolute insanity!" the voice explodes through the speaker, frustration evident in every syllable. "How the hell are we supposed to find one in time for the race? We have less than a week, Lachlan. Less than a fucking week!"
I keep my breathing steady despite my heart rate picking up at the mention of the race. Through my lashes, I can see Lachlan standing at the kitchen island, one hand braced against the marble surface while the other runs through his already disheveled hair. He's wearing low-slung sweatpants and nothing else, the morning light from the massive windows highlighting the defined muscles of his back and the various small scars that tell the story of a life spent pushing physical limits.
"It's obviously a ploy to eliminate teams from the competition," Lachlan responds, his voice carrying a weariness that suggests this isn't the first time he's had this conversation. "There are only so many Omegas to begin with, but to find onewho can actually drive? And drive fast enough to be competitive? The odds are slim to none."
"Exactly my point!" The man on the phone—who I'm starting to suspect is either Lachlan's manager or someone high up in the team hierarchy—sounds like he's on the verge of a breakdown. "So tell me, how's the search been going on your end? Any leads at all?"
Lachlan sighs deeply, and I watch the tension ripple across his shoulders.
"How do you think it's going? We're scraping the bottom of the barrel here."
"We've been reduced to scouring online gaming platforms," the manager admits with audible defeat. "Looking through Steam leaderboards and sim racing competitions for female gamers who score high enough to suggest actual driving capability. It's pathetic. We're one of the top teams in Formula One, and we're recruiting from fucking Twitch streams."
"Oh," Lachlan says, and there's something odd about his tone—like he's trying very hard to sound casual. "Well, surely you'll find someone soon. The gaming community has some seriously talented people."
I have to bite my lip to keep from reacting.
He knows exactly who tops those leaderboards. He's raced against me countless times online, knows my times and techniques better than anyone. But he's not mentioning it, not even hinting at the possibility.
The boss clears his throat, the sound crackling through the speaker.
"Actually, I've been thinking... What about asking your brother's girlfriend?"
The silence that follows is so complete I'm afraid to even breathe. I can see Lachlan's knuckles turning white where hegrips the counter, the muscles in his jaw working as he clenches his teeth.
When he doesn't respond, his boss continues, apparently taking the silence as permission to elaborate.
"I've heard rumors that she used to be a driver. Something about an accident, though the details are fuzzy. When I tried to research it, I couldn't find anything online. It's like the whole incident was scrubbed from the internet, which is odd as hell. An accident involving a promising female driver in our sport? That should have been major news, but I can't even remember her name."
My heart is pounding so hard I'm surprised they can't hear it through the phone.
Someone deliberately erased my racing history? But why? And on whose authority?
