Page 157 of Knot So Lucky
Shadow's purring creates a steady rhythm, like a heartbeat or a lullaby. The sound fills my awareness, pushing aside worries about sabotage and competition and all the complicated realities waiting beyond this moment of peace.
I feel something soft and warm settle over me—a blanket, judging by the weight and texture. Someone covering me without waking me, showing care through quiet action.
The gesture makes my chest tight with emotions I don't have names for.
Safe. Protected.
Cherished in ways I've never experienced before, even with Cale during our months of complicated involvement.
Shadow's purring continues, steady and soothing, mixing with the distant sounds of the garage—tools clinking, computers humming, the low murmur of Alpha voices discussing technical specifications.
My consciousness drifts, carried away on waves of contentment and exhaustion.
I officially doze off with the purr of the kitten contributing like a lullaby, surrounded by the scents and sounds of my pack working to protect what we're building together.
CHAPTER 30
Sweet Mornings And Strategic Moves
~ADRIAN~
"Ja, ich verstehe. Aber ich brauche diese Informationen diskret gesammelt."
The German flows naturally as I speak into my phone, cradled between my shoulder and ear while my hands work pancake batter in a mixing bowl. Early morning sunlight streams through the kitchen windows of the Thorne compound's residential wing, catching on stainless steel appliances in ways that make everything gleam.
I'm wearing pajama pants—expensive silk that probably cost more than reasonable—and nothing else. Just finished my morning workout and shower routine, and I haven't bothered with a shirt yet because there's no one awake to see me shirtless in the kitchen at six-thirty in the morning.
Or so I thought.
"Yes, I understand you need more context," I continue in German, switching hands on the phone so I can pour batteronto the preheated griddle. The sizzle is satisfying, familiar. "But when it comes to monitoring media coverage and gathering intelligence, I need you to start with complete discretion. Everything related to our team, our Omega, the competition."
"Und Richard Pemberton?" my contact asks, voice crackling slightly through the international connection. "You want surveillance on your own team manager?"
"Especially Richard," I confirm, watching bubbles form in the pancake batter. "I know it seems obvious that he could be a threat—his history in other Formula One competitions shows patterns of... flexible loyalty. But that's exactly why we need concrete evidence."
My contact—Klaus, one of my family's most reliable security consultants based in Munich—makes a thoughtful sound. "Isn't that rather obvious that Richard could be a threat with what happened in the past? The Silverstone incident, the data leak at Monza, that business with the McLaren team three years ago?"
"Genau." I flip the pancake with practiced precision. "Exactly. But inevitably, if he's being bribed or compromised, how would we know? The man's intelligent enough to cover his tracks when he wants to."
I pause, considering my words carefully even though this line is encrypted.
"When it comes to Aurora, all bets are off," I say quietly, switching back to English. "I'm protecting her with any resource at my disposal. I don't want to leave any corner unturned when it comes to potential threats. So gather evidence, monitor patterns, but don't interfere until I order you to. Understand?"
"Verstanden. I'll have preliminary reports by end of week."
I hear shuffling in the hallway outside the kitchen—soft footsteps, the particular sound of someone moving while half-asleep.
"I'll reach out another time," I say quickly. "Secure the line."
"Natürlich. Auf Wiedersehen, Adrian."
I hang up just as I flip the pancake, timing perfect enough that nothing burns.
Then Aurora shuffles into the kitchen, and my heart does something complicated in my chest.
She looks absolutely adorable.
Sleep-mussed and confused, wearing what appears to be one of Elias's oversized t-shirts as a nightshirt and a pair of shorts that are barely visible under the hem. Her short blonde hair sticks up in seventeen different directions, and she's rubbing at her eyes with one hand like a sleepy child.
