Page 201 of Fatality

I yank the wheel toward him, the Charger slams into the side of his car.

I just need to keep his attention on me, the Industrial Belt will take care of the rest.

Neon is scarce here. Instead, the district glows beneath amber floodlights, rotating hazard beacons, and the cold white glare of industrial work lamps. Massive ventilation fans roar overhead.

Pipes snake across buildings like exposed veins, hiding in the shadows of the work lamps.

I keep forcing the Rebel toward me, ramming his car while he's driving straight toward those fucking pipes.

At the last second, I swerve away.

“Enjoy the flight!” I laugh, waving as I speed off.

“What the—”

The crash echoes behind me, a scream follows.

I glance into my side mirror just in time to see his car plow straight into the pipes.

His body flies through the windshield.

It smashes into the side of a building with a sickening wet crack before dropping to the pavement with a heavy thud.

Definitely dead, and I don’t give a fuck.

No one fucking provokes me, and no one ripped me out of her.

I cross the finish line and climb out of the Charger, Ren won.

I pay my members every month. The weekly races bring money into the gang, and every time one of mine wins, sixty percent of the prize goes into the Crimson Velocity account.

The other forty percent is theirs, a bonus for winning the race.

I don't wait, I get back into the Charger and drive straight to my apartment.

Back to watching.

CHAPTER 43

Riven

Secrets - Omido, Ordell & Rick Jansen

Pacing has become my favorite thing to do over the last twenty-four hours.

I can't think straight.

What the fuck does that mean, they reopened Kyle's case? It wasn't an accident? They were targeting me? For what? To hurt Kyle? But why? And how?

How could they have known I'd break a glass, my father would slap me, and I'd run away? How could they have fucking known?

I keep replaying that whole night in my head, but everything is blurry—the sounds, the surroundings.

It was eleven years ago.

I can't remember every detail, of course I can't fucking remember the most traumatic night of my life.

I brace myself against the steel beam in my loft, my knuckles pressing against my temple in frustration.