Page 45 of Fatality

“Wait,” I whisper, more to myself than to him.

I lean farther over the steering wheel to get a better look. What I see makes my eyes narrow.

There is a woman.

She has long black hair, but she isn't moving.

Aw, did I scare her? What kind of sane woman gets into a street race anyway? This isn’t for women.

Especially with a novice like this guy behind the wheel.

My expression shifts instantly—something sharper, more intrigued.

“Well, fuck me.” I lean toward the window, raising my voice just enough to cut through the roar of engines and screeching tires. “You let him drive with you in the car?”

My grin turns mean.

“Bad choice.” I gesture lazily toward myself with a wink. “You really picked him? You could've chosen someone... like me.”

“GET THE HELL AWAY FROM US!” the man yells again, louder this time.

I cut him off by swerving directly in front of them, close enough to force an immediate reaction.

The other car jerks violently, tires screaming.

I burst out laughing.

“Relax, I got you, sweetheart." I tap the brakes, just enough. “Let me help you get rid of him. He is a danger for you.”

The car nearly slams into me before swerving away at the last second.

It's unstable now.

Perfect.

I accelerate again, then cut right, then left. No pattern. No rhythm.

Forcing constant corrections.

I'm not racing anymore—I'm playing.

“C'mon, keep up... don't lose it yet.”

The driver's voice cracks, panic bleeding through every word.

“ST-STOP FUCKING DOING THAT!”

I glance in the mirror and see it.

That exact moment when control slips, when adrenaline gives way to fear.

“Oh... there it is.”

I swerve in again, harder this time, crowding their front bumper and giving them no room to recover.

The driver overcorrects.

The car fishtails, tires screaming as the rear swings wide. It slams against the concrete barrier with a deafening scrape, sparks exploding along the bodywork as metal grinds against reinforced steel.