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)
She shook her head, eyes burning. “No. You don’t get to decide when I’m ready. I built this on my own. Without you. Without him.” She jabbed a finger toward the ghost of their father in his cut. “I don’t need either of you.”
He started to argue, and I snapped, stepping so close he had to tilt his chin up to meet my eyes. “Say one more word to her, and I’ll light your car on fire with you in it.”
The silence after was heavy enough to choke on. His jaw flexed, fists tightening, but he didn’t move. Not with my eyes locked on him.
For a long moment, I thought we’d throw down right there. The crowd around us shifted uneasily, sensing the violence in the air.
But then he looked at Jana again, and his whole face softened. He looked like the brother she remembered, for just a second.
“I do love you. If you ever change your mind—”
“I won’t,” she cut in, voice sharp as a blade.
His throat worked. He gave a slow nod, as if it hurt to do so, then turned and walked back to his car. The engine fired, rough and loud, and he pulled away without looking back.
The crowd exhaled all at once, the tension bleeding off into mutters and engines revving again.
Jana stood frozen, arms still crossed, chin high, but I saw the tremor in her fingers. The way her eyes glistened before she blinked hard.
I closed the distance in two strides and pulled her into my chest. She went stiff for half a second, then broke—soft sobs muffled against my cut, tears soaking into leather I’d bled on before but never let anyone else mark.
I wrapped her tight, one hand splayed between her shoulder blades, the other cradling the back of her head. I didn’t say shit at first, just held her while the weight of years poured out of her in ragged breaths.
When her sobs quieted, I bent low, voice rough against her hair. “He’s gone. He can’t touch you. Not now, not ever again. You’ve got me. You’ve got the Kings. That’s family. The only kind that matters.”
She shivered, then clutched my shirt in her fists like she was holding on for dear life. I pressed my lips to her temple, tasting salt and heat, and held her until her breathing steadied.
Around us, the night roared back to life—engines, cheers, smoke curling into the sky. But in my arms, she was silent, steady, and mine.
And I swore to myself, as sure as any oath I’d ever taken in that clubhouse, that no one—not a Skull, not her past, not even blood—would ever make her doubt that again.
15
NITRO
The night was slick with heat, the kind that clung like oil no matter how many times you wiped your palms. The abandoned airstrip Kane had chosen stretched long and straight into the darkness, floodlights rigged on poles at each end, throwing harsh white light across the cracked asphalt. Beyond us, the swamp crouched silent, cicadas buzzing like faulty wiring, while generators thrummed low and steady in the background.
This wasn’t just another midnight run. It had weight. The kind you felt in the chest before you even fired an engine. Kane had picked tonight to launch Redline Precision—his new pro racing team that would run clean in the daylight, even while the Redline Kings owned the underground at night. Using an illegal street race to roll out something meant for sponsorships and televised circuits. Typical Kane. A middle finger to anyone who thought they understood him.
Crews lined the edges of the strip, shadows under the glare of the lights. Engines revved, rubber squealed, curses traded back and forth. The whole scene had that raw, cutthroat edge that made underground racing different from anything with rules. A thousand bad decisions wrapped in chrome and fire.
And in the middle of it—her.
Jana was tightening her gloves by her car, the low-slung beast she’d tuned to a razor edge. She’d braided her red hair back tonight, fire locked down tight, but strands still caught the light like sparks every time she moved. Her tank top was dark with sweat down the spine, jeans hugging her long legs, and freckles sharp on her flushed cheeks. She looked as though she was born for the spotlight, whether she wanted it or not.
She didn’t know the last test was coming. Kane hadn’t told her. Neither had I.
My boots hit asphalt heavy as I crossed to the starting line, helmet dangling from one hand. Her head snapped up when she caught sight of me striding toward her slot. Confusion flickered across her face, followed by shock, then a flare of temper so hot I could almost feel it singe my skin from ten feet out.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she muttered, her voice carrying across the night under the floodlights.