Page 76 of Knot So Fast
My body knows. My instincts know. And soon, everyone else will know too.
The announcement comes over the garage speakers—five minutes to race start. Time to get in position. Time to reveal myself. Time to change everything.
As I slide into the cockpit of car 3, feeling the seat conform to my body like it was made for me, I can't help but smile. Not the nervous smile of someone about to take a massive risk, but theconfident grin of someone who's exactly where they're supposed to be.
The engine roars to life beneath me, and I feel it in my bones—the power, the potential, the promise of speed and competition and everything I've been denied for too long.
My parents are going to be furious. The racing world is going to explode. And Lachlan... well, Lachlan is about to get the surprise of his life.
But as I pull out of the garage and onto the track, joining the formation lap behind the other cars, none of that matters. What matters is this moment, this feeling, this return to who I really am beneath all the protection and pills and carefully constructed lies.
I'm Auren Vale. I'm a racer. And I'm about to remind everyone exactly what that means.
My smile only gets wider.
THE LAST RIDE
~LACHLAN~
My car comes to a stop at pole position, the familiar weight of being first on the grid settling over me like a shroud.
Behind me, twenty-one other cars line up in their designated positions, engines growling with barely contained power, each driver focused on the lights that will soon release us into controlled chaos.
I'm trying not to feel—trying to lock away the emotions threatening to crack through my professional composure. But it's impossible to ignore the reality that this is going to be my last ride. My final dance with the mistress that's owned my soul since I was old enough to understand what speed meant.
It bothers me more than I want to admit, the weight of finality pressing down on my chest like a physical thing. I've already started composing responses to the inevitable headlines that will flood every sports outlet by tomorrow morning:
"Early Retirement for Formula One Star Lachlan Wolfe"
"Trouble in Love Paradise for 4x Champion?"
"Wolfe's Knot in a Twist: Champion Can't Commit to New Omega Rules"
"Four-Time Winner Loses Career Over Omega Requirement"
Again and again, different headlines and scenarios replay in my head like a broken record.
Each one more sensationalized than the last, each one reducing my career to clickbait fodder for people who've never felt the kiss of g-forces or the knife's edge between control and catastrophe.
And now, with the fresh "reveal" of my brother's existence adding fuel to the media fire, things are about to get exponentially more dramatic.
The circus is just beginning, and I'm about to become its main attraction for all the wrong reasons.
I grimace at the reminder, my eyes finding one of the trackside screens showing the commentary booth. Dex is up there, looking professionally composed but I know him well enough to see the tension in his shoulders, the tightness around his eyes. Marcus had ambushed him with that twin revelation, forced him to participate in manufactured drama for the sake of ratings.
I know they get bonuses for going along with gossip and speculation—it's part of the devil's bargain that modern sports broadcasting demands. But Marcus is going to get a taste of the consequences of participating in bullshit like this. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually. The racing world has a long memory for those who cross certain lines.
My brother certainly doesn't mind the attention—negative or otherwise.Lucius has always thrived on chaos, on being the center of whatever storm he's created this week. But this isn't PR we needed to be part of. Not now, not with everything else hanging in the balance.
I'll have to see him tonight, whether I want to or not. The media vultures are going to start digging into everythingthey can find about both of us, especially with me dropping out after this race. Every photograph, every rumor, every whispered speculation about our complicated relationship will be fair game. The thought makes my head throb with a growing migraine.
I take a deep breath, holding it for a count of four before releasing it slowly. The breathing technique is automatic now, trained into me by years of sports psychologists and performance coaches. Center yourself. Find your focus. Let everything else fade away.
The commentary fills my earpiece as I tune back into the present moment.
Marcus is building excitement for the viewers, but something in Dex's tone catches my attention.
"...interesting to note that car number two hasn't appeared on track yet," Dex is saying, his professional voice carrying an undertone of concern that only someone who knows him would catch.
