Page 88 of Bend

Then the garage erupts.

Revel looks like someone just told him Christmas is happening twice this year.

“The fucking TT?”

Andre lifts his voice over them. “Calm the fuck down.”

Nobody calms the fuck down.

Not that I blame them, even I know enough about racing to understand why they’re losing their minds.

The Isle of Man TT.

I’ve watched videos.

Everybody who likes motorcycles has watched videos.

Riders flying through towns at speeds that make absolutely no sense, clipping past stone walls, houses, curbs and fucking lamp posts like death is just another competitor trying to keep up.

There are racetracks.

Then there’s that.

“Wait,” I say, looking at Andre. “Like… actually racing it?”

“Yeah.” He nods once. “First time for the Speed Demons.”

Revel lets out a low whistle while Sayshen grins like he’s already halfway there.

“Fuck,” I mutter. “Okay. That’s huge.”

Andre closes the folder against his palm.

“The invitation came through one of our European sponsors. A team dropped out, a slot opened up, and our name got put forward. Everything moved fast.”

“How fast?” Draygon asks.

Andre looks at him.

“We fly out in two days.”

The room goes quiet again.

I blink. “Two days?”

“Yep.”

Sayshen lets out a disbelieving laugh and drags a hand over his mouth. “Fuck me. Two days.”

Reign is already grinning, both hands pushing back through his hair. “Ireland. Fuck, this is gonna be sick.”

Talon looks over at him. “Isle of Man.”

Reign gives him a flat look. “You know what I fucking mean.”

“Do you?”

“Shut up.”