Page 71 of Knot So Fast
In the photos, he's surrounded by women—beautiful, laughing Omegas who are draped over him like expensive accessories. One blonde has her hand on his chest, her perfectly manicured nails a bright red against his black fitted shirt. Another is whispering something in his ear that has him smirking in that way that probably makes underwear spontaneously combust.
It's propaganda, pure and simple.
A carefully orchestrated photo op designed to portray Lucius as the playboy alternative to his more reserved brother.
And I hate it.
Hate it with an intensity that threatens to show on my face despite years of media training.
Because Lucius is the lucky fucker who still gets to be with Auren.
On and off, hot and cold, together and apart—whatever their toxic cycle is this week, at least he gets to be in her orbit. The rest of us are hung out to dry like forgotten laundry, left to admire from afar but never touch.Never hold.Never have the chance to remind her of what we all used to be.
"He's certainly got that bad boy charm," Marcus continues, clearly delighted by the images. "Quite the player compared toour known champion! But the real question is—can he race as well as his older brother?"
He pauses for dramatic effect before adding, "And yes, folks, I've got the inside scoop confirming that Lachlan is definitely the older twin. By four whole minutes!"
The sound effect of canned laughter fills the booth, the kind of artificial amusement that makes me want to put my fist through something expensive. This is what we've become—a sport reduced to soap opera drama and manufactured controversy.
"And with that bombshell," Marcus announces with practiced timing, "we're going to take a quick break for a word from our sponsors at BMW. Don't go anywhere—the race is about to begin!"
The ON AIR light flicks off, and I immediately turn to glare at Marcus with enough force to melt steel.
He has the decency to look slightly uncomfortable, though not nearly enough for my liking.
"What the fuck was that?" I keep my voice low, aware that we're still surrounded by the production crew even if we're not broadcasting.
Marcus groans, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Look, we just got triple bonuses for pulling that off, so don't give me that look. You know how this works."
"I don't like being put on the spot," I snap, my hands clenching and unclenching as I fight the urge to grab him by his perfectly styled hair. "Especially not about my own pack."
"You're always put on the spot!" he argues, though he keeps his voice down to match mine. "That's literally what commentary is. Besides, you think I wanted to do this? I got coerced, same as you."
That stops me cold.
"By who?"
He jerks his head toward the images still displayed on our screens.
"Same person who got those perfectly timed photos of Lucius, obviously. Someone wants controversy, Dex. They want drama and rivalry and all the juicy bits that make people tune in."
I study the images more carefully, noting the angles, the timing, the way every shot seems designed to emphasize certain narratives.
This isn't random paparazzi work—this is orchestrated.
Professional.
Deliberate.
"I wouldn't be surprised if they're trying to manufacture drama between the twins," Marcus continues, his voice dropping even lower. "You know, play up the whole 'brothers divided by competition' angle. The producers are probably salivating at the ratings potential."
I sigh heavily, feeling the weight of three years' worth of compromises and concessions pressing down on my shoulders. "It's not that they don't get along," I say carefully, aware that even off-air, conversations can be recorded and leaked. "It's more like..."
I pause, searching for words that convey the truth without revealing too much. How do you explain the dynamic between Lachlan and Lucius to someone who's never seen them together? How do you describe two men who are identical in appearance but opposite in every way that matters?
"They're both dangerous flames," I finally say. "Neither would hesitate to burn the other if it meant getting to the top faster. But Lachlan's the tamed one. Controlled. Calculated."
