Page 152 of Knot So Lucky
A damn good one. And I'm going to prove it on the track where it matters most.
I hug Roran one more time—quick and fierce—before stepping back and straightening my shoulders.
"Okay," I say, pitching my voice back into the lower register I use as Rory. "Let's do this."
Roran grins, pride evident in every line of his face.
"That's my sister. Go get 'em."
I nod once, feeling determined to hold onto his words and carry them with me like armor.
The world thinks they know what an Omega can do.
That they've seen the limits of what someone like me can achieve.
They have no idea what's coming.
And I can't wait to prove them wrong.
CHAPTER 29
Systems And Sabotage
~AURORA~
The Thorne Racing compound is intimidating in ways I wasn't prepared for.
It's not just the size—though the facility is massive, sprawling across what must be several acres of prime real estate. It's not just the cutting-edge equipment visible through every window and doorway, machinery that probably costs more than most people's houses.
It's the atmosphere.
Everything here screams precision and excellence. The floors are polished to a mirror shine. The walls display championship trophies and photos of victory moments captured in perfect detail. Even the air smells expensive—some combination of high-end cleaning products, premium coffee, and the particular scent that comes from world-class racing facilities.
This is where champions are made.
And I'm standing in the middle of it wearing a jumpsuit that's slightly too big, eating an orange like I don't have acare in the world, watching two Alphas argue over absolutely nothing.
"Your racing line through Turn Seven is sloppy," Luca says, arms crossed and scowling at Cale with the kind of intensity usually reserved for mortal enemies. "You're giving up at least two-tenths of a second every lap."
Cale's answering glare could strip paint.
"My racing line isefficient. Just because it's notyourpreferred approach doesn't make it wrong."
"It makes it slower."
"It makes itadaptable. When conditions change or traffic develops, I can adjust without losing momentum."
"That's just an excuse for not committing fully to the optimal line."
"Optimal foryou, maybe. We have different driving styles, Thorne. Accept it and move on."
I roll my eyes so hard I can practically feel my brain rattling, peeling another section of orange, and popping it into my mouth. The citrus bursts across my tongue—sweet and slightly tart, refreshing after the morning workout session that left me sweaty and sore.
They've been at this for twenty minutes.
Twenty minutesof arguing about racing lines and brake points and aerodynamic theory, their voices getting progressively sharper while their Alpha scents spike with competitive aggression.
Burnt cedar and coffee clashing with dark chocolate and gunpowder, creating an atmosphere in the training facility that's both overwhelming and oddly entertaining.
