I’m surprised when I realized that it wasn’t Morelli’s men but Ares and Lev who pulled me off that fucker.
“Did you see that?” I yell. “He’s encouraging people to bet on Zara getting hit by that bike. That’s fucked up.”
Ares squeezes my shoulder, and it feels oddly comforting. “I know. I thought you wanted Zara to race for you because you think she’s the best. You should protect your assets rather than putting them at risk.” He says to Mason Morelli.
Ares’s objection is met with a sardonic smile. “I just give the people the entertainment they paid for. After last week, I could double the price of the tickets and the bets? We might make more money in one night than several of my uncle’s businesses make in a month. If your girl is as good a racer as I think she is, she’s going to be just fine. By the way,” he says when one of his men hands him back the tablet he just dropped. “You damaged my tablet. I’m gonna add the price of the replacement to your debt. Now, before I decide that you’re not worth the air you breathe, get your ass on that bike and give people the entertainment they paid for. Good luck, Zara.”
I struggle against Ares and Lev’s hold, but they force me to walk back to the starting line.
“You should have let me kick his ass.” I spit out, shaking them off. “He isn’t worthy of even saying her name.”
“You’re right.” Ares’s scowl matches my own. “But there’s nothing we can do right now without making things worse for all of us.”
I can’t believe he’s just gonna take Morelli’s shit. “Maybe you were right. Maybe we should say fuck this, and go to the sheriff. If we refuse to race right now, what can he do? He can’t kill us in front of all these people.”
My brother lowers his voice, speaking loud enough that only we can hear him with the music and the noise of the crowd. “I wouldn’t be so sure. See those guys over there?” He points to a few men in black clothes. “Those guys work for Morelli, and I can guarantee you that they’re packing. Even if they didn’t shoot us in front of everyone, you know we would have a target painted on our backs. Let’s try to get through tonight’s race in one piece and then we’ll end this. One way or another.”
I know Ares and Lev are planning something to get us out of this mess with Lev’s parents, even though they didn’t give me any details.
“Fine. I don’t like it, though.” I bite out.
“Neither do I,” Ares agrees. “Just stick to the plan. Protect Zara and be careful. Like we said, our advantage is that now we’re on the lookout for trouble. If that bike shows up, we won’t be as surprised as the other times.”
I nod, putting my helmet on and sitting on my bike while I wait for everyone but Angela to walk away from the starting line.
Morelli thinks he’s untouchable, but just the thought that he hurt Zara makes it really hard to watch him as he gives orders and acts like he owns us all.
He’s lucky I don’t want to put Zara in more danger by giving him what he deserves.
Angela is standing right in front of us, her silk scarf held high, ready to drop to start the race.
The noise of all the other bikes invades my ears, and I start mine.
My MTT 420-RR comes to life underneath me, and I force every other thought out of my mind. Usually I race to win; tonight my mission is to make sure that nothing happens to Zara.
We go even before the scarf hits the cracked asphalt of the disused road. The makeshift racetrack is uneven, with the odd pothole here and there.
The awareness that the dangerous conditions of this road would anger my father even more than the fact that we’re breaking the law he fought so hard for hits me as I spot Zara on my left side.
Lev is on her other side, and we’re already ahead of all the other bikes.
If I wanted to, I could win this race. My bike has a top speed of 273 mph. The Rolls Royce Allison Turbine engine uses the most cutting-edge technology available in racing today.
Lev’s Damon Hypersoft’s top speed is a mere 200 mph and Zara’s Ducati Panigale V4 R has a similar top speed at 199 mph.
I know the top speed of your motorcycle is only one variable in the equation, but this bike was Atlas’s pride and joy. He didn’t even let Ares ride it. I was the only one allowed on it because my brother thought I had incredible raw talent. He used to say that if hockey hadn’t been what I spent all my energy on, I could have become a motorcycle legend.
That’s why I accepted filling in for him to qualify for the race that ended up being his last. I felt important.
Racing was the only thing that made him treat me like I was important. Like I was part of the special bond he seems to share only with his twin.
I wish I had said no that day.
If I hadn’t qualified for him, Atlas would be here. We wouldn’t be in this shitty situation.
This is all my fault. I’m responsible for brother’s death, and for every other shitty thing that has happened after. Dad wouldn’t have run for mayor, and he wouldn’t have banned motorcycles in Star Cove. Fox wouldn’t have come back looking for retribution, and he wouldn’t have teamed up with Morelli. Zara wouldn’t have been on Mason Morelli’s radar.
My eyes keep darting to check for Zara’s Ducati as our three bikes have gained ground against the others. I spot Fox’s Beamer in my mirror; he has no way of overtaking us no matter what.
