Page 225 of Knot So Lucky
The world beginning to sway.
The sticky note.
My breath catches as the full memory returns. That yellow square of paper stuck to the wall behind the counter, the single word written in neat block letters that made my blood run cold even as consciousness was slipping away.
"Checkmate."
Someone drugged me.Deliberately.Left a note to ensure I knew it wasn't an accident.
I squeeze Luca's hand gently, partly to ground myself and partly because I need to know this is real. That I'm actually awake and not dreaming or hallucinating or worse.
His hand squeezes back automatically before his brain catches up to consciousness. His nose wrinkles—an oddly cute expression for someone so intimidating—and then his eyes openhalfway. Still projecting sleepiness, dark lashes obscuring those intense eyes that usually see too much.
Then he registers I'm awake.
The transformation is immediate. Sleepiness vanishes, replaced by sharp focus and concern that makes his scent spike with protective Alpha pheromones.
"How are you feeling?" His voice is quiet, careful, like he's worried speaking too loud might shatter something fragile.
"Confused," I admit, my own voice rough from disuse. "Unsure what happened. I remember the coffee tasting wrong, and then..." I trail off, not wanting to voice the vulnerability of having been so completely helpless.
Luca's jaw tightens, and I can see him wrestling with something. Guilt, maybe. Or fury at whoever did this.
"What about the race?" The question bursts out before I can stop it, panic rising in my chest. "Are we disqualified? I remember for certain not taking the race. I couldn't have driven if I was unconscious."
He holds his tongue, and I can see him choosing words carefully.
Preparing me for bad news.
"I can handle it," I say firmly, squeezing his hand again. "Whatever happened, just tell me."
"No," Luca says slowly. "We're not disqualified. We're going to the grand prix."
I blink, certain I misheard.
"What? How is that possible when I clearly didn't race?"
"The race didn't require an Omega." His expression is carefully neutral. "It was announced last minute—first time this season that Omega participation was optional. Something about spiking bids and interest by making the championship even more competitive."
Relief floods through me so fast I feel dizzy.
"Oh. So it didn't matter that I was incapacitated." I pause, processing further. "Then who drove? You and Elias? Did you guys do well? At least top ten?"
The question should be straightforward. But Luca goes quiet, his dark chocolate and gunpowder scent shifting into something complicated—pride and grief mixing in ways that make my stomach drop.
"We got first and third place," he says finally.
"Holy shit, that's amazing!" The words come out automatically, genuine excitement for my pack's success. But then I actually look at his face—at the misery etched into every line despite the victory. "Why do you look disappointed? Or miserable? That should be cause for celebration."
He takes a deep breath, and I watch his chest expand and contract with the effort of controlling whatever emotions are threatening to overwhelm him.
"Is everyone okay?" New fear spikes through me. "Did Elias get hurt or something?"
He shakes his head, and I should feel relieved. Should feel grateful that whatever's wrong, it's not that.
But then he mutters a single word that makes my world tilt sideways.
"Adrian."
