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I made no attempt to move.

Just before reaching me, the car swerved, made a dangerous humming sound, and raced past me, driving straight through a puddle.

I couldn't get out of the way, so mud splattered onto my clothes and helmet.

Old autumn leaves that lay dry on the road, because the few deciduous trees that grew here had only just shed them, swirled up.

I let my hand wander to my helmet as I watched the sports car drive away and wiped the mud splatters from my visor.

“Asshole.”

Car Chase

FreshmanSound

That was the moment I grabbed the handle bars with both hands and twisted the throttle.

I shot across the road, following the car, and within a minute, it was only a few meters ahead of me.

I caught up, driving one meter alongside it in the opposite lane.

When I turned my head toward the driver's window, I found Miles DeLoughrey looking back at me, a devilish grin on his lips.

This bastard had messed with the wrong person.

I reached out, clenched my hand into a fist, and drove so close to the car that my spikes touched the metal.

Instantly, the Ruisangor's grin vanished. Mine played around the corners of my mouth. Too bad he couldn't see it through my helmet.

Then I dropped back without removing the spikes from his expensive car. Sparks flew, and a three-groove scratch mark grew.

He tried to ram me by steering the car, but I dropped back quickly enough to reappear on the other side of his car and looked through the passenger window.

Miles wasn't grinning anymore. His jaw clenched, and he stepped on the gas.

But I did the same, hit his car with the spikes again, and fell back, this time faster, because Miles steered the car again so that I almost went off the road.

Usually, I wasn't so reckless as to mess with a Legacy Ruisangor, but this one was practically begging to be disciplined.

I accelerated rapidly, overtook him with room to spare, and shot past his car before letting go of the steering wheel and driving right in front of him to turn around and give him the middle finger.

Miles tried to pass me, but I wove from side to side, and when he accelerated to push me off the road, I sped up until I finally decided he had learned his lesson for the day and accelerated even more to get away from here.

Way too fast, I raced through Fogs Forest, leaving it by darting across the green intersection and driving further into the town center to take the sixth, large intersection toward Vanderwood.

The traffic light was red, and a patrol car was standing on the other side of the intersection, so I stopped and – as always – checked to see if my father was there. Nope. Just Oliver Bexley and one of his cop colleagues, both deep in conversation.

Miles wouldn't make it here before the next green light if he hadn't already taken a different street.

I stared at the traffic light, tapping my fingers on the handlebars.

Whoosh.

My head jerked to the side, or rather, followed the vehicle that had just sped past me much too fast. Through a red light.

Confused, I watched the motorcycle turn left toward Vanderwood.

Another biker.