My old teachers, my father, Teddy…their fragmented voices sank their claws into reason and ripped it to shreds, making me bleed pure emotion in the dark alleyway.
Do it.
Don’t do it.
Walk away.
You can’t let him have the last word.
The last gasp of rationality died beneath the roar of blood in my ears.
I’d spent the better part of a year taking the high road. I’d endured the taunts and the hate messages silently, without retaliation, but I was sick of taking the high road.
Bocci and my old team said they valued loyalty, but they were really bullies. They dragged their resentment out because having a target made them feel good. Unless I put them in their place, they’d continue their campaign of harassment until I snapped or they got bored.
I hadn’t made it this far in my career by being passive and waiting for things to happen to me. This was my life and my reputation. It was time I retook control of them.
“I’m not scared of anything or anyone, Bocci, much less you,” I drawled, my smile a blade of white in the dark. “You want to race? Fine. Let’s race right now.”
Word of the last-minute competition spread like wildfire through a certain segment of the city’s street racing community.
I didn’t know who alerted them to the event, but when we arrived at our designated meetup spot in north London—the same spot where I’d raced against Clive and won—there were around two dozen people waiting for us. Most of them were athletes.
Simon was there. So was Clive himself, who I hadn’t seen since our double date. He’d shown up with his rugby buddies, and they watched Bocci and me exit our cars to make the rounds with quiet anticipation.
I greeted them with nothing more than a short nod. I still didn’t like Clive, and I hadn’t forgiven him for dragging Scarlett into the middle of our spat over the summer. He looked like he hadn’t forgiven me for denting his ego, either.
He clapped Bocci on the back and said something that made the other man laugh. There was no question who he was rooting for to win tonight’s race.
Noah came up beside me after I finished saying hi to Simon, who was back in the game now that his foot was fully healed.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” he said quietly. “You’re still on thin ice with Coach. If he finds out…”
“He’s not going to find out.” Adrenaline streaked through my veins, dulling my sense of danger. Coach, the paps, the slim but ever-present possibility of crashing—they didn’t exist at that moment. All that existed was the shining lure of victory. “I can’t back down after I agreed to the race. You know that.”
Noah frowned, his expression troubled. He didn’t attempt to talk me out of the race again, but he hung back from the rest of the crowd, clearly uneasy as shouts and laughter rang through the air.
I was surprised he was here at all. He was usually home with his daughter at this time, but he recently hired a new nanny, so maybe he had more freedom to stay out late.
Bocci hadn’t finished making his rounds.
I let him take his time. In half an hour or so, he wouldn’t be so happy.
“Asher.”
I turned at the sound of Vincent’s voice. He stood between me and my car, his face half cast in shadows.
He didn’t know about my promise to his sister, and I didn’t tell him. I couldn’t dwell on that right now. Not when we were a heartbeat away from the race.
Vincent dipped his chin in a cursory nod. “Good luck.”
I nodded back, and that was that. Nothing else needed to be said.
Two minutes later, the race finally started.
Bocci and I climbed into our cars—his Lamborghini versus my trusty Bugatti. He lived in Holchester but owned a house in London, and he kept part of his auto collection in the city.
We drove to the designated starting point on the main street.
I gripped the steering wheel, my body alive with nerves and anticipation.
A small voice screamed that this was a bad idea and I should back out before it was too late, but it was already too late. Like I told Noah, I couldn’t back out now—not without doing irreparable damage to my reputation.
This face-off with Bocci had been months in the making. In hindsight, it was foolish of me to assume we could settle our differences through a polite, regulated match on the pitch. It had to be something grittier. More personal.
Scarlett’s face floated at the edges of my consciousness, but for the first time since we started dating, I pushed it aside.
I hated breaking my promise to her, but I wasn’t racing tonight for an unnecessary thrill. I needed to do this. It was the only way for me to close the door on this chapter of my past.
I’m sorry, darling.
My grip tightened on the wheel.
All I had to do was win this one last race. After that, I was truly done.
Simon had offered to count us down, and the revs of our engines drowned out everything except the next few seconds.
