Page 166 of Knot So Lucky
"Let's keep it on the down low for now," I say finally. "Don't confront Marco or change his access. But monitor him—discreetly. See if he makes contact with anyone suspicious, if there are patterns in when sabotage occurs versus when he's on duty."
"And in the meantime?" Luca's tone suggests he has opinions about allowing a potential saboteur to remain in position.
"We implement redundant safety checks," Elias suggests. "Multiple people verifying critical systems, hidden monitoring on key components. Make it exponentially harder to sabotage without detection, but without making it obvious we're suspicious of anyone specific."
Adrian nods, already typing notes.
"I'll have my security consultants investigate Marco's connections. Find out who's applying pressure, what leveragethey're using. If he's being coerced, we might be able to eliminate the threat without exposing him."
The plan settles over us—not perfect, but workable given the constraints.
"Let's keep it on the down low for now," I repeat, making it official.
Because revealing what we know too soon could be just as dangerous as ignoring the threat entirely.
And Marco—whether he's guilty or just being used—deserves the chance to prove his loyalty or explain his situation before we destroy his career.
Even if it means taking calculated risks with our own safety in the meantime.
CHAPTER 32
Public Scrutiny, Private Understanding
~AURORA~
Ifucking hate press conferences.
The studio lights are too bright, making my eyes water despite the professional makeup someone applied earlier to keep me from looking washed out on camera. The chair is uncomfortable in that particular way that expensive furniture manages to be—designed for aesthetics rather than actual human use.
And the questions are exactly as invasive and discriminatory as I expected.
"Rory," the moderator—some Beta woman with perfectly styled hair and a smile sharp enough to cut—leans forward with predatory interest. "You've made history as the first Omega pit technician to transition into professional Formula One racing. Yet you continue to present very...masculine."
The pause before "masculine" is deliberate, loaded with judgment.
I keep my expression neutral, one ankle crossed over my knee in the deliberately casual posture I've perfected over years of being Rory Lane. My oversized hoodie hangs loose on my frame, paired with baggy jeans and sneakers that have seen better days.
Comfortable. Authentic. Me.
"Is there a question in there?" I ask, voice pitched into the lower register I maintain in public, "or are you just making observations about my fashion choices?"
A few people in the press gallery chuckle—genuine amusement breaking through the tense atmosphere.
The moderator's smile tightens. "The question is, why aren't you trying to look more feminine? Surely with your Omega status now public, there's an opportunity to embrace a more traditional presentation?"
The implication is clear:I should be wearing dresses and makeup, should be softening my appearance to match societal expectations of what Omegas are supposed to look like.
Should be performing femininity for their comfort instead of existing authentically.
I lean back in my chair, making deliberate eye contact with the moderator.
"This is how I've always dressed and acted. Why would I change that now? My designation doesn't suddenly make me a different person."
"But don't you think?—"
"No." I cut her off cleanly. "I don't think Omegas owe anyone a particular aesthetic presentation. My value as a racer has nothing to do with how feminine I look in photos."
Beside me, Luca shifts slightly.
