The moment my tires cross the starting line, the world narrows to the hum of my engine, the grip of the wheel, and the steady pulse of adrenaline pounding through my veins.
Everything outside the car, every whisper, every doubt, every damn thing I’ve been trying to outrun, fades to nothing. This is where I belong.
The flag drops.
I slam my foot down, and my car lurches forward, tires screeching on dirt as I shoot ahead. Xavier is right beside me, his Mustang keeping pace as we tear down the stretch of road, but I don’t give him a second thought. This isn’t about him. This is about me.
The engine roars beneath me like a caged animal, its vibration shuddering through my bones as I push harder, shifting gears with precision. I know this course like the backof my hand. The tight left at the second turn, the rough patch near the third turn, and the deceptive curve right before the final stretch.
I don’t hesitate. I don’t second-guess. I own this track.
Xavier tries to take the inside lane on turn two, but I see it coming a mile away. He’s fast, but I’m faster. I let him think he’s got me for a split second, then cut in sharply, my tires barely kissing the edge of the dirt as I take the turn like a ghost slipping through shadows.
My heart pounds. My breath is steady.
Then, it’s the final stretch.
I hear Xavier’s engine roaring beside me as he pushes for that last surge, but it’s not enough. I cross the finish line a full car length ahead.
I win.
The moment I slam on the brakes and spin into a controlled stop, a rush of satisfaction floods through me. The crowd is shouting, some in disbelief, some in anger, and many in awe.
I step out, head high, shoulders back, and look straight into the eyes of those who thought I was done. The ones who whispered behind my back like I couldn’t hear them.
Tara and Lisa stand near the entrance to the pits, their faces frozen in shock. Perfect.
Xavier pulls up beside me, then steps out with a slow shake of his head and a half-smirk that says he knew exactly how this would go. He walks toward me, stopping close enough to lower his voice so only I can hear.
“Never had a doubt,” he hums.
I roll my eyes, but my lips twitch. “Good. You would’ve lost money betting against me.”
A sharp, bitter laugh cuts through the air. Tara sneers, arms crossed tightly. “You got lucky. That’s all this was.”
Lisa, always her little echo, scoffs. “No one actually thinks you belong here, Izzy. One win doesn’t change that.”
I take a slow step forward, letting the silence stretch long enough to make them sweat. Then I smile. A sharp, confident, lethal smile. “One win?” I tilt my head. “Sweetheart, I’ve been winning since the day I got behind the wheel. The only difference now is I don’t have to pretend to give a damn what you think.”
Tara’s face darkens, but I don’t give her the satisfaction of a reaction.
The roar of the crowd still rings in my ears, but it fades into the background, leaving only the stillness between Tara and me. She’s standing there, arms folded across her chest, her expression half disgust, half disbelief. Lisa’s standing beside her, trying to mirror the same confidence, but she’s another scared shadow, trying to play at something she’ll never be.
I take a slow step toward them, my boots crunching on the gravel. My eyes don’t leave Tara’s as I move. I’m done being quiet. Done letting them act like they own this place.
“I got lucky?” I ask, my voice dripping with a cold venom only a few people know how to provoke.
Tara doesn’t flinch. She shrugs, as if this is all part of her usual bravado. “Lucky’s all you’ve got, Izzy,” she sneers. “But do you know what? It doesn’t change anything. You’re still not one of us.”
I don’t even blink. The smile creeping across my face isn’t the kind that inspires warmth. It’s the kind that makes people wonder if they’ve stepped into a lion’s den and don’t know it yet.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” I say, letting the words fall like blades. “The truth is, I’m more a part of this scene than you’ll ever be. I’ve earned it. And the rest of you,” I glance toward Lisa, who’s too busy playing second fiddle to even try to get a word in edgewise, “are here hoping to pretend you’re the ones who belong.”
The silence stretches between us, and for one heart-stopping moment, I see doubt flicker in their eyes. But then Tara steps up, chest puffed out, though I can see she’s not as confident as she was a minute ago.
“Doesn’t matter,” she spits. “You still don’t have what it takes. After today, no one will ever take you seriously.”
I lean in close, so close I can see the faintest tremor in her lip. “Sweetheart, the only reason anyone’s listening to you right now is because they’re still waiting for me to shut you down.”
