Page 64 of Knot So Lucky
"No." I shake my head, certainty settling deeper in my chest with every passing second. "I know what adrenaline feels like. This is…far from it."
I trail off, not having words for the sensation that bloomed in my chest when our eyes met. For the way my Alpha instinctsrecognizedsomething fundamental and true.
"I’m positive this is legit," I finish simply.
Santos works quietly through our conversation, checking monitors and making notes on her tablet while studiously pretending she's not hearing every word of this incredibly sensitive discussion.
The kitten continues purring on Rory's chest, a small black spot of contentment in the middle of chaos.
The ambulance takes another turn, and I can feel us decelerating slightly.
Must be getting close to the facility.
"Fine," Roran finally says, though his tone suggests it's anything but fine. "But if you step out of line, if you do anything to expose or endanger?—"
"I understand." I cut him off gently. "The secret's safe. You have my word."
"The word of a Bravati." Cale's lip curls slightly. "That's supposed to be reassuring?"
"It's supposed to be binding," I correct. "My family might operate in grey areas, but we don't break our word once given. It's bad for business."
The ambulance comes to a complete stop, and I can hear voices outside—security protocols, probably, checking credentials before allowing access to the private facility.
Santos starts preparing for transfer, organizing equipment and disconnecting monitors in preparation for handoff to the facility's medical team.
The kitten finally stands, stretching with that particular feline disregard for gravity or appropriate timing, before hopping back into my lap and immediately curling up again.
Apparently, I've been chosen as the preferred transport method.
"When he wakes up," Roran says quietly, and there's something almost pleading beneath the aggression, "don't push. Don't demand explanations. Don't?—"
"I'll follow his lead," I promise. "Whatever pace he's comfortable with."
The doors open, flooding the ambulance with bright artificial light and the organized chaos of a medical facility prepared for incoming emergency patient.
But as they wheel Rory away on the stretcher—Cale and Roran flanking like honor guards, Santos rattling off vitals and treatment notes—I remain seated for a moment.
Processing.
Calculating.
Because my life just became exponentially more complicated.
I met my scent match by nearly dying.
She's an Omega woman disguised as a male pit tech, hiding her designation in one of the most Alpha-dominated industries in existence. She's connected to the Lane family, which means wealth, power, and complications I can barely begin to imagine.
And she just crashed a prototype racing car to save my life.
The kitten purrs in my lap, tiny claws kneading through my jeans in contentment.
"Well," I murmur to the small creature, "I guess we're doing this."
Because Elias Vance might be socially awkward and more comfortable with engines than people, prefer data analysis to emotional navigation, and have spent most of his life avoiding exactly this kind of messy interpersonal complication.
But I'm also one hundred percent confident that the unconscious driver being wheeled into the facility is my scent match.
And until he—she—wakes up and I can ensure she's okay, I'm not going to be gotten rid of that easily.
