Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 37846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
Entitled. Bitter. Pissed off.
And stupid enough to think sabotaging her ride would fix the dent in his ego.
The last still showed him slipping out, wiping his hands on a rag like he’d just changed oil instead of trying to set my woman up for a crash.
Heat burned through my chest. Not wildfire—controlled thermite. Hot, lethal, and no going back once the fuse was lit.
I snapped the laptop shut and grabbed my cut off the chair back. Time to work.
I needed muscle, and I found Drift first, leaning against his bike outside, smoking like he had nowhere better to be. He didn’t blink when I told him what I had planned. Just flicked the cigarette and ground it under his boot.
“Gotta find Edge,” I told him, keeping my promise to call him if I needed to break someone.
“The Burnout,” Drift muttered, referring to the Redline Kings’ bar, as he mounted his ride. “Meeting about the budget.”
We found Edge in the back office, flipping that knife of his while he irritated Tyre over the books. One look at my face, and he snapped the blade shut.
“Finally. I was starting to wonder how long it’d take before you invited me to the fun.”
We rolled out together, three shadows moving toward one dumb bastard who had no clue the kind of fire he’d sparked.
Jax had spotted the kid on a security camera in the parking lot of a local parts warehouse. When we arrived in Edge’s car, the recruit was half bent over his bike with a wrench in his hand. He straightened fast when he saw us, trying to puff his chest like he belonged in the same world.
“Hey,” he greeted, too eager, his voice cracking around the edges. “Didn’t expect—”
Drift cut him off with a meaty fist to the gut. The wrench clattered on the asphalt. Edge hooked his arm, spun him, and together we dragged him between us, ignoring his strangled curses. The kid kicked once before I slammed him against the cinderblock wall hard enough to knock the air out of him.
“You’ll get your words in a minute.” Edge’s voice was all silk and steel. “Right now, you’re gonna take a little trip.”
We shoved him into the trunk and drove back to The Pit. Then Drift carried him down the back stairwell, into the rooms below. The air grew cooler, damp concrete laced with oil and old blood. Fluorescents buzzed overhead. This was where we handled things that didn’t belong in daylight.
The kid stumbled when Drift shoved him into the center of the room. Edge leaned against the wall, flipping his knife again, his grin as sharp as a wolf’s. I shut the door behind us and let the silence hang.
“You know what your mistake was?” I asked finally, stepping into the circle of light. My voice carried easily in the close space, low and rough.
The recruit licked his lips, eyes darting. “I—look, I don’t know what you—”
My hand snapped out, cracking across his face. He staggered, then caught himself, eyes wide now, but still trying to hide his fear.
“Taking her out was never gonna earn you a spot on a team.” I stepped closer. “But messing with a Redline Kings’ old lady definitely earned you a spot on my shit list.”
Edge snorted from the wall. “Don’t sugarcoat it, Nitro. He’s not waiting for his turn at Candyland.”
I shrugged, rolling my shoulders loose, heat coiling in my knuckles. “Suppose you’re right. Guess I should’ve just told you your career as a driver ended tonight. And you’ll be lucky if you walk out of here.”
The recruit’s breath hitched. “She’s not—she’s not your old lady. She’s just—”
The words died when I grabbed his wrist and twisted, bones creaking under my grip. His scream echoed off the concrete before I even followed through.
A sharp jerk, clean break. His knees buckled.
“Wrong,” I growled before I broke each of his fingers.
I let him cry for a few minutes, then sighed impatiently and lifted my chin at Drift.
He grabbed the kid’s other arm, yanking it out straight, and I broke that one, too. His howl was ragged, wet, and full of panic now. Edge watched, bored as he flipped his knife.
“You think sabotage makes you a racer?” I snarled, crowding over the recruit as he sagged to his knees. “You think jealousy earns you a spot in this world?”
I crouched, grabbed his chin, and forced him to look at me through the tears streaking his dirty face. Then I crushed the fingers of his broken hand under my boot.
“P-please don’t kill me,” he whimpered when he was done screaming.
“Kill you?” I scoffed. “You don’t deserve that kind of ending, asshole. Every bone I break tonight is a reminder of why you’ll never hold a wheel again. You’ll never clutch a throttle. You’re finished.”
I slammed him back and let him crumple. He whimpered, curling over his broken hands like they mattered more than his spine.