Chapter 14 #2
"Why the hell would I rat out our best tech because you're an Omega? Not to mention, you have to be taking some seriously heavy suppressants to maintain the emotional bandwidth to be around cocky Alphas all fucking day. That's some dangerous balls you're playing with."
She's not wrong.
The suppressant doses I take would make most Omega doctors refuse to continue treatment. The side effects—the zoning out, the occasional nosebleeds, the way my biology fights against the chemical dampening—are getting worse.
But it's the price of existing in this space.
The cost of doing what I love.
Jenna lets out a breath, and when she continues, her voice carries something that sounds like admiration.
"When Auren participated in Formula One two years ago, everyone lost their minds. But it was some of the most empowering shit I've ever seen. An Omega not just competing, but winning at the highest level. Proving that designation doesn't determine capability."
She locks eyes with me, intensity burning in her gaze.
"Frankly? I want to see it again."
The admission makes my chest tight with emotions I don't have names for.
Hope. Fear. Desperate yearning for a reality where I don't have to hide.
"If I come out," I say slowly, testing the words, "I'll be fired."
Jenna laughs—short and sharp and completely lacking humor.
"If you come out after doing this race on your brother's behalf and pushing us officially onto the Formula One race list?" She shakes her head. "I think firing you would only result in them upgrading your role as our team's new driver."
She leans in closer, hands coming up to grip my shoulders. The touch is firm, grounding, and for a moment, I let myself lean into the support.
"Rory," she whispers, using my alias but speaking to me. "Aren't you fucking tired of hiding shit?"
The question hits harder than any physical blow could.
Aren't you tired?
Yes.
God, yes.
I'm exhausted from maintaining the performance. From pitching my voice lower and binding my chest, and taking suppressants that make my head foggy and my emotions dull. From pretending to be someone I'm not for the sake of doing what I love.
From living in the shadows while my twin brother gets to race openly, chasing his dreams without constantly looking over his shoulder for exposure.
I'm so fucking tired.
I nod slowly, the admission feeling like surrendering something fundamental.
Jenna's expression shifts—satisfaction mixed with fierce determination.
"I have connections," she says quietly, voice carrying the weight of a promise. "And I can do my part to ensure that whatever happens, I have your back. But I also know how much this race means to your brother."
She's giving me an out. Acknowledging that racing in Roran's place is a choice, not an obligation.
But we both know there's no real choice here.
My brother is drugged and suffering in his room. Our team needs someone to race in less than—I check the nearest clock—forty-five minutes. And I'm the only person with both the skill and the desperate need to prove that I belong here.
"I'll do it," I hear myself say.
The words feel monumental and inevitable simultaneously.
"But I need to check on Roran first," I add, because regardless of racing obligations, he's my twin and he's hurt, and that takes priority over everything else.
Jenna nods, already pulling out her tablet to start coordinating.
"I can have everything ready in fifteen minutes. More than enough time before the race."
Fifteen minutes to prep a car and a driver for the most important qualifier of the season.
It should be impossible. Would be impossible with any other team.
But we're Apex Racing, and we've built our reputation on doing the impossible with style.
"Perfect," I say, already moving toward the door. "And Jenna?"
She looks up from her tablet.
"Thank you. For having my back."
Her smile is fierce and proud.
"Always."
I leave the tech room, weaving through the continued chaos of the garage toward the private driver stations. The hallway leading to Roran's room is quieter, insulated from the main workspace by soundproofing that's supposed to give drivers space to focus before races.
My heart is pounding against my bruised ribs, each beat a reminder of the crash, of the risks I'm about to take again.
But underneath the fear is something else.
Excitement. Anticipation. The electric thrill of knowing I'm about to do something that could change everything.
I'm going to race.
Not as a tech running diagnostics. Not as a fill-in during testing. Not hidden behind a VR simulation where no one knows my real identity.
I'm going to race in an actual qualifier, with real stakes and real consequences and real opportunity to prove myself.
And hopefully, it's time to stop hiding…
Time to step into the light and show everyone what an Omega can do when given the chance.
But first, I need to check on my brother.
I head toward Roran's stationed room, each step feeling like walking toward a crossroads where every path leads to an unknown journey.