“What the fuck is Alejandro doing?” Hayden hisses.
I flick my gaze to the rearview several times and see Alejandro swerving behind Hayden. “Just keep straight and steady. Press closer to me if you have to.”
We’re on the last lap, and my palms sweat as we near the finish line. I take the final curve with ease, heart pounding. “Something’s not right, Ry.”
I start to tell him to back off and let them pass, but before I can get the words past my lips, metal crunches and tires squeal through the Bluetooth. A massive blaze lights up my cabin, and I flinch forward from the heat that radiates off the explosion. I pull the e-brake and spin the car around.
“What the fuck!!” I run across the track screaming, “Hayden!!”
This isn’t fucking happening.
27
KELSEY
One second, we’re cheering as Ryder sped to the finish line, next, everyone is gasping, and the crowd goes into frantic screams. The Vipers collided with Hayden’s car, and now both are a mangled, fiery mess on the track.
“Ma’am!” Somebody yells and tries to grip my arm, but I shrug them off, running onto the track. I see Ryder running too. He abandoned his car feet away from the finish line. He keeps screaming for Hayden, but my brain is telling me what my heart doesn’t want to believe.
My heart is palpitating in my chest, and I feel sick to my stomach. Lights and sirens come from every direction, while crew members work diligently to extinguish the fire. I can’t see any signs of Hayden, but I can’t even tell what I’m looking at. It’s all charred, smoking metal.
First responders arrive at the scene and start pullinggurneys and equipment out of the trucks. I press my hand to my chest, and my bottom lip quivers.
“Ma’am, I need you to step away.” A police officer says. I nod absently and do as he says.
A body is pulled from one of the frames, and I hold my breath until I confirm it isn’t Hayden. The paramedic presses two fingers to the man’s neck, then shakes his head. He’s dead.
If he’s dead…. No.
Ryder fights with an officer who is trying to push him away from the scene.
“That’s my brother!” He shouts, jabbing a finger in the direction of the wreckage.
“We need space to work.”
Ryder isn’t having it. He shoves past the officer and drops to his knees beside one of the frames. Bloodied knuckles lay limp on the asphalt. My hand covers my mouth, softening the guttural cry that escapes. My knees give out, and I fall, scraping them on the cold pavement.
When Ryder pulls part of his body out, he grips him under the arms and drags him the rest of the way. I get up and run on wobbly legs only to drop again next to them.
“No. No. No.” My voice breaks. “Hayden, no! Please, God!!”
Ryder gently removes the helmet, and his face is blistered and a bloody mess. His clothes are a tattered, burned mess with most of his raw skin exposed.
“Hey!” Ryder shouts to the paramedics. “He has a pulse,”he rushes out when one of them runs over with the medical bag.
“Hayden, wake up,” I beg, gripping his cut-up hand. His injuries are severe. If he hadn’t had the helmet, he would have been crushed.
His chest rattles with each agonizing breath. I’ve heard that sound once before. When my grandmother passed away, they called it the death rattle. The paramedic works quickly to hook him up to the machine. His heart rate is weak, and so is his oxygen, but he’s alive.
Two more medics rush over with a gurney, and they lower it to the ground before lifting him onto it. Hayden grunts at the movement.
“Hey, I’m we’re. We’re here.” I don’t know if he’s conscious, but I need him to know he isn’t alone.
“Stay with me, brother,” Ryder urges beside me.
“What the fuck happened?” Jessie yells, breathlessly, behind me. Mascara runs down her cheeks, and her eyes are glossy and red.
“The Vipers,” Ryder growls. “Alejandro’s lucky he’s dead.”
