35. Eloise
35
ELOISE
I take a left and arrive at my destination. The Gauntlet text with the coordinates arrived last night, bringing me to Stonefield tonight.
My heart beats a staccato rhythm against my ribs as I make my way toward the designated meeting point. The Gauntlet’s second round. After making the top twenty-five cut, I knew things would only get more intense from here. But standing at the precipice, staring into the unknown, sends a thrill of trepidation and excitement through my veins.
The coordinates led me to a closed strip mall on the outskirts of town. Graffiti tags cover one of the crumbling brick facade and weeds sprout through cracks in the sidewalk. A street lamp flickers overhead, and it only adds to my anxiety.
Stonefield is bigger than Avalon Falls, but not as big as the main cities on the other side of the state. I crack my window, letting in the cool night air. The faint scent of gasoline and old cigarettes lingers on the warm breeze. This part of town feels like a place that’s been forgotten, left to crumble while the rest of the world moves on.
Unlike the first race, there are no other cars around. I let the engine idle, tapping my fingers against the steering wheel to combat my nerves.
I glance at my phone, double-checking the coordinates are right. They are. Stonefield’s shopping district sprawls around me in an L-shape. Random retail stores and what looks like a cafe or two and a giant parking lot. The place feels both too big and too empty. I drum my fingers against the steering wheel again, anxiety flaring in the uncertainty.
My phone vibrates in the cupholder, startling me enough that I jump a little. I press a hand to my chest and see it’s from an unknown number.
Unknown Number: Turn your radio to 88.9 FM
My heart skips a beat. “Time to go.”
I dial the radio to the right station with trembling fingers. Static hisses through the speakers, fading to the smooth, robotic voice I’ve come to associate with the Gauntlet.
“Welcome to the Gauntlet. Congratulations on advancing to the next round. The first race starts in fifteen minutes. In the next five minutes, your GPS device will turn red. Keep this device in your car at all times. This is your guide and tracking system. Tampering will result in disqualification. Attaching it to another vehicle will result in disqualification. Attempting to hack it will result in disqualification. The first twenty drivers to complete the four-hour endurance without disruption will advance. Disruptions include: leaving Stonefield city limits, receiving a citation, being arrested. This message will repeat for the next ten minutes.”
The message begins to repeat, but I turn the volume down and let out a slow breath. Evade law enforcement? My stomach twists at the thought. I’ve been cautious about stepping too far over the line before. Even running jobs for Seven Pines, I’ve always had an escape plan. A safety net. But this?
This feels like throwing myself into the fire without a second thought.
My shoulders slump as the weight of this challenge sinks in. Four hours of evading the police, risking arrest, all for a chance at some prize and bragging rights. Is it worth it? Am I really willing to go this far?
I close my eyes, Vivie’s and Margot’s smiling face flashing behind my lids.
I grip the wheel tighter, my pulse pounding in my ears.
Four hours of endurance driving, trying to avoid disruptions . It sounds simple enough, but I know better than to underestimate the Gauntlet at this point. If it were the middle of the afternoon, I’d just stay in this parking lot and hang out in a store for four hours, but being nearly midnight screws that plan.
Unless I can find a twenty-four-hour diner. Now there’s an idea.
A red light blinks to life on my GPS, the screen illuminating with a map of Stonefield. The radio crackles again, and the same voice begins the countdown.
“Five. Four. Three. Two. One.”
My breath catches in my throat. The race has begun.
I make it an hour before I see a cop.
My heart leaps into my throat as the police cruiser turns onto the street behind me. The lights aren’t on, but that doesn’t mean shit. For all I know, they’re running my plates right now. They’ll come back clean, of course, but I’m participating in an illegal street race competition. It’s a fucking gray area if I’ve ever seen one.
Fuck getting booted from the Gauntlet, if I get arrested, they could take away Vivie. And give her to Darla.
Self-loathing and regret twine around my throat, squeezing tight until I feel like I can’t get enough air. I roll down my window a little and pray the fresh air will reset me. Adrenaline surges through my veins, my hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turn white.
“Think, Eloise.” Think .
I force myself to take a deep breath, pushing down the rising panic. I can’t afford to lose my head now. Not when I’ve come this far.
I scan the street ahead, searching for somewhere, anywhere, to duck out of sight. The cop car inches closer, and my heart pounds against my ribs. At the last second, I spot a narrow alley between two brick buildings. Without a second thought, I yank the wheel to the right, tires squealing as I whip into the alley.
The nose of my car just clears the alley entrance as the police cruiser rolls past. I hold my breath, watching the rearview mirror. The cop car keeps driving, no brake lights, no turn signal. No flashing lights.
I exhale shakily, my head falling back against the headrest. That was too fucking close.
“Be smarter about this,” I mutter to myself.
I curb the urge to call Margot and talk strategy. It’s late as hell, and if she’s awake, it’s because she’s studying.
My fingers itch to text Beau, but I dismiss the thought as soon as it comes. I don’t want to rely on him to advance to the next round. And that’s assuming he’d even be able to answer me. For all I know, he got tangled up already.
My heart pounds as I ease out of the alley, checking both ways before pulling back onto the deserted street. The GPS glows red, an ever-present reminder of the challenge at hand.
I need to find some place to lie low, and fast. Somewhere the cops won’t think to look.
I cruise down the street, my eyes scanning the darkened storefronts and side streets for anything that might work. An open laundromat, a late night diner, a motel with a half-hidden parking lot. But this part of Stonefield is fast asleep, dark and quiet.
A cop car pulls onto the street behind me, and my paranoia kicks into overdrive. I just saw a cop less than ten minutes ago. Either they have a large presence in this area at this time of night, or they got tipped off.
Which makes it all that much harder. “Goddamnit.”
I pound the heel of my palm on the steering wheel in frustration, my head on a swivel for my salvation. A second later, red and blue lights flash behind me, the siren splitting the still night.
Survival is my only thought. I push everything else to the side as I speed through the night.
My heart pounds in my throat as I take a sharp left, tires squealing. The police cruiser follows close behind, siren wailing. I can’t let them catch me. I won’t.
I weave through the narrow side streets, pushing my car to its limits. The engine roars as I fly over a small hill, catching air for a split second before slamming back down. The suspension groans in protest, but I don’t let up on the gas.
I need to lose this cop.
I fly around another corner, tires skidding on the asphalt. The police cruiser overshoots the turn, giving me a precious few seconds of lead time. My mind races as I scan the unfamiliar streets, desperately searching for an escape route.
Up ahead, the road narrows and curves. A sign warns of a sharp turn and reduced the speed limit. A crazy idea takes root in my mind. It’s reckless and dangerous, but it might be my only shot.
I downshift, the engine revving as I approach the curve. At the last second, I yank the emergency brake and crank the wheel hard to the left. My car skids sideways, tires screaming as I drift around the sharp bend. The smell of burning rubber fills the air. I let off the brake and punch the gas as I straighten out; the force slamming me back into my seat.
In my rearview mirror, the police cruiser tries to make the same maneuver but overcorrects. It fishtails wildly before spinning out. As much as it eats away at me not to, I don’t slow down or stop. I just keep driving, putting as much distance between us as possible.
Two minutes later, I’m rewarded with a glowing neon pink silhouette of a woman.
My goddamn salvation is a gentleman’s club.