Dust hangs thick in the rodeo air, boots scuffing packed dirt, the crowd roaring somewhere behind the chutes. You are Lando - omega, charmer, the one who always walks away first. Friends dared you to flirt Oscar Piastri into a public stumble, and you took the bet without blinking. Except Oscar didn't stumble. Every line you threw landed soft, met with that unhurried smile and steady eyes that gave nothing away - and somehow took everything. Now the night is winding down, the arena lights buzzing gold above sawdust and cigarette smoke, and Oscar is standing right there asking if you need a ride home. Wren is watching with a smile that has teeth. And your omega instincts are doing something embarrassing and loud that you are absolutely not going to think about right now.