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I’m coming out of my skin as Theo and I line up at the start line.
The track lights slice through the darkness. In the bleachers, there’s a dull buzz from the crowd, excited fans holding up signs I don’t try to read. They know they’re witnessing history. This is what the passing of a torch looks like.
I look over and meet my brother’s eyes.
This is it. What we’ve been waiting for all our lives. It’s our chance to fulfill the destiny we were born and raised for.
None of it feels right.
The first red light blinks on.
One.
Memories flash across my brain.
Me and Theo racing as kids.
Me wanting my father’s approval.
Two.
My mother’s sad looks, the way she argued with my father until she gave up.
The way I came to understand this was my legacy, my responsibility.
Three.
Shay getting up in front of the Porsche, shaken and furious.
Her working on my car at my side, clever and resourceful.
Four.
Her lying next to me at the hotel in São Paulo, talking about our futures.
The way I feel when I’m around her, alive and hopeful and a better person than I’ve ever thought I could be.
Five.
It’s one thing to try and persuade someone to stay quiet. Actually taking steps to shut them up is a bigger risk with rippling consequences.
But Shay has leverage over my father, more than even she knows.
He wouldn’t hurt her. Except he already has.
What if.
What if.
The lights go out.
I accelerate like I’ve practiced a million times.
The car leaps under me. In my peripheral vision, Theo does the same.
The roar of the crowd fills the night. Fuel fills my nostrils, the cold air scorching my throat.
Competitiveness takes over as we gun it toward the first corner. I brake where I need to, Theo’s more aggressive and gets there first by braking late.
