Chapter 45 Gameover #3
All eyes turn to me as I pull out my phone and the recording device, holding them both up where everyone can see. My Omega scent has gone perfectly neutral—no fear, no anger, just cold, calculated control.
I lift the phone to my mouth, my voice clear and steady.
"So as you heard for yourself, your Honor, my Alpha is completely innocent of all charges in attempting to sabotage the Grand Prix with stun driving.
He wasn't the one who made those modifications, wasn't the one whose tech failed and caused the crash that ended his career. That was our own team member, Jenny."
Jenny's eyes go wide, her face cycling through shock, horror, and rage in rapid succession.
"You—you recorded—"
"Every word," I confirm, my smile thin and sharp as a blade. "From the moment I walked in here, actually. Funny how people forget Omegas have brains to go with their biology."
The garage doors burst open again, but this time it's not team members.
It's police officers, their uniforms crisp and official, their faces professionally neutral. They move with the kind of practiced efficiency that says this isn't their first arrest, won't be their last.
"Jennifer Martinez," the lead officer says, pulling out handcuffs with a metallic clink that seems obscenely loud in the sudden silence.
"You're under arrest for evidence tampering, fraudulent technical modifications, and conspiracy to commit sabotage resulting in career destruction and financial damages. "
"What?!" Jenny's voice is a shriek now, all composure utterly shattered. "This is INSANE! You can't—I'm innocent! I didn't do anything wrong! It was just a prototype, just a mistake—"
"You have the right to remain silent," the officer continues, unmoved by her protests. "Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law..."
I watch as they restrain Jenny, see the wild panic in her eyes, the way her Beta scent goes acrid with fear. Part of me—the soft, Omega part that wants to soothe and protect—feels a twinge of something that might be pity.
But the larger part, the part that's survived by being smarter and harder than anyone expected, feels nothing but cold satisfaction.
"Your Honor," I say into the phone, my voice carrying across the garage, "as you can hear, the evidence is conclusive. I'm submitting this recording to clear my Alpha's name and reputation. Justice delayed isn't justice denied if we finally get it right."
I pause, then add with a slight smirk, "But if you'll excuse me, I have a race to win."
"Wait, what?" Marco's head snaps toward me so fast it must hurt.
I reach up and unzip my hoodie in one smooth motion, followed with unbuckling my jeans and stripping out of them swiftly.
Underneath, I'm wearing my full race suit—midnight blue with silver accents, the Throne Racing logo splashed across my chest, every sponsor patch perfectly positioned.
I've been wearing it this entire time, the Nomex material pressing against my skin like a second layer of armor.
The hoodie drops to the floor, and I catch the expressions of shock rippling through the garage.
Even Richard's eyebrows have climbed toward his hairline.
"You've been suited up this whole time?" Marco breathes.
"Did you really think," I say, pulling the fire-resistant balaclava from my pocket, "that I'd let Adrian's legacy go to waste? That I'd let some bitter Beta who couldn't move on from rejection destroy everything he built?"
Richard is moving toward me, and the expression on his face is something between pride and disbelief. He picks up my helmet from where it sits on the workbench—custom-fitted, the visor tinted silver-blue, my name emblazoned on the back in chrome lettering.
He holds it out to me like an offering.
"You set her up."
"I suspected her from the beginning," I admit, taking the helmet.
The weight of it in my hands is familiar, grounding.
"The moment the news broke that I was female—an Omega—and everyone realized Adrian and his pack had finally found their Omega.
.. I watched Jenny. Saw how she looked at him.
How she couldn't quite hide the bitterness when he barely noticed she existed. "
I turn to look at Jenny, who's being led toward the garage exit in handcuffs, her face a mask of impotent rage.
"Envy looks horrible on you, Jenny," I say, my voice carrying across the space.
"But I knew you wouldn't be able to help yourself.
Knew you'd slip up eventually. You wanted to be special to him, wanted to be the brilliant engineer who saved his reputation, who proved the tech could work.
But you couldn't handle that he chose an Omega who was 'beneath' you in this industry.
A female driver who had no right to his attention, his pack, his legacy. "
"Fuck you!" Jenny spits, struggling against the officers. "You don't deserve him! You don't deserve ANY of this! You're just some—"
"Careful," I warn softly. "You're already facing felony charges. Adding slurs to your arrest record seems unwise."
I hand the recording device to Marco, who accepts it with shaking fingers.
"Give this to Ronan. He's waiting outside. He'll make sure it gets to the right people. Lawyers, the racing federation, everyone who needs to see evidence of Adrian's innocence."
"Ronan knew?" Marco looks dazed.
"I’m his twin sister after all. We talk even if we don’t show it outside of the garage," I confirm.
"We've been building this case for weeks, gathering evidence, waiting for the right moment.
I simply had to play along with my pack who were working very diligently to protect their “helpless” Omega.
This—" I gesture to the chaos around us, "—was always the plan. "
I walk toward Jenny then, who's being held firmly between two officers.
The Beta's eyes are wild, her carefully constructed mask completely shattered. She leans in close but says it loud and clear for everyone to hear.
"At least I don't have a dead Alpha."
The words are cruel.
Calculated.
Designed to cut deep.
It’s a shame she’s so slow in this cunning game of cat and mouse.
That's when I pull my phone back out and hit the speaker button.
"Yeah, you're right," I say clearly, my voice carrying through the garage. "Having a dead Alpha would absolutely suck."
"I mean," a male voice crackles through the phone speaker, rich and amused and very, very alive, "I'm certainly feeling grateful to not be dead right now."
The garage goes silent.
Completely, utterly silent.
I watch as the blood drains from Jenny's face, as her knees literally buckle, as the officers have to hold her upright to keep her from collapsing entirely.
"Though I have to say," Adrian's voice continues, "whoever planned my funeral is going to be severely disappointed.
Wasting all that money on a cemetery plot when I'm perfectly alive and well, currently enjoying what I believe is checkmate in four moves against Ronan on this online chess stimulator.
The man's brilliant with legal strategy, absolute shit at chess. "
"You—" Jenny's voice is barely a whisper. "You're—"
"Alive?" Adrian sounds far too cheerful. "Very much so. Though I appreciate your concern. Or rather, I would if it were actually concern and not thinly veiled hope that I'd died so my Omega would be vulnerable and easier to manipulate."
"The hospital called!" Jenny shrieks, her composure utterly demolished. "They said time of death—they SAID—"
"They said what we paid them to say," Adrian interrupts smoothly. "Turns out when you're a billionaire with significant medical donations on your record, hospitals are remarkably cooperative about staging death notifications for legal sting operations."
I can hear the smile in his voice, can picture the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he's particularly pleased with himself.
"The crash was real," Adrian continues, his tone hardening slightly. "The investigation into sabotage was real. But the convenient timing of my 'death' right before the biggest race of the season? That was bait. And you, Jenny, swallowed it whole."
Around the garage, people are starting to react. Marco lets out a whoop that's probably audible in the next county. Several techs are cheering, hugging each other. Richard has his hand pressed to his chest like he's trying to keep his heart from exploding.
But I only have eyes for Jenny, watch as the realization of how completely, utterly, devastatingly she's been played settles over her like a shroud.
The manic expression spreading across her face would almost be funny if it weren't so genuinely unhinged—eyes too wide, mouth working soundlessly, every muscle tensed like she might shatter.
I lean in even closer, close enough that I can smell the acrid fear-sweat beneath Jenny's medicinal scent, close enough to see the exact moment understanding crystallizes into horror.
"Checkmate," I whisper.
Then I straighten, adjust my race suit, and walk toward the garage exit where my car waits—beautiful and deadly and ready to make history.
Behind me, I can hear Jenny being dragged away, still screaming denials that no one believes, still insisting on her innocence even with her own confession recorded and witnessed.
"Aurora," Adrian's voice crackles through the phone still in my hand, warm and fond and alive. "Go win me that trophy, Tesoro. I'm rooting for you."
I grin from ear to ear, feeling lighter than I have in weeks, the weight of grief and uncertainty lifting off my shoulders like I'm shedding an old skin.
"Always do," I promise, and end the call.
The garage erupts in celebration behind me, but I'm already moving forward, helmet tucked under my arm, every cell in my body humming with purpose.
Outside, I can hear the crowd roaring, can feel the electricity in the air, can taste victory on my tongue like champagne not yet poured.
I have a championship to win.
A legacy to honor.
And an Alpha who's alive and waiting to see me cross that finish line first.
Game over.
I just won.
F.I.N