Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Kai
I’ve never seen what the inside of a man looks like—not until Roman showed me. Never did I think that I would watch a man’s head be kicked in as he kissed the curb. But I have also never been around a man like Roman, and I use the word man loosely.
That man is a monster… one I’m determined to keep away from Tokyo.
Being around him only confirmed my suspicions that he wouldn’t hesitate to kill her.
He’s playing nice right now because I have all the street information while he’s blind.
Roman might be violent, but he’s not street smart, and that’s where I come in.
For now, our relationship is symbiotic. However, he can’t see past his rage, and I can’t say I blame him.
But the way he handles things will definitely have cops knocking on his door sooner than later.
Not tonight, though. He’s lucky this race is sponsored by the same pricks that throw the Wicked Raves.
There won’t be any reports made, and no cops will be led to him—at least not right now.
And he’s taking complete advantage of it, with his limp and all.
“Man, he’s sick,” Chino mutters beside me as he lights up a joint.
“He’s doing what I can’t.”
Chino inhales the smoke. “He’s fucking insane.”
The sound of Roman’s boot connecting with bone and flesh echoes through the deserted street.
Making my stomach turn with each wet thud.
The sounds of drifting and spinning tires catch my attention; it’s too close to let this continue.
This place is surrounded by those rich assholes.
I let out a deep sigh before walking towards Roman, who’s already standing motionless over the fucking poor soul who made the mistake of crossing his path.
I look down briefly, and with my boot, I turn him over, so he lies on his back. The teeth still in his mouth cling to his gums by a thread while the others are scattered along the edge of the sidewalk that Roman forced him to bite into.
“We gotta go.”
Roman chuckles softly. “Sure,” he replies before he stalks towards the black Mustang sitting on the sidewalk with the driver’s door open and key still in the ignition. He isn’t much of a talker, but his message is clear. He’s ready.
So, fuck it. So am I.
Before Roman can cut me off, I turn to him. “Did he at least tell you anything?” Roman’s mouth widened into a devilish smirk. “He gave me more than words; we have a pass.”
“A pass?”
He nods. We already have the invitations, but a VIP pass means we get to be everywhere and go undetected, at least for a bit longer. “It’s what those rich assholes use to get into VIP—neon fucking mask, some gloves, and an orange ticket. All in his trunk.”
“How many?”
“Two.”
That means Chino won’t be able to go in with us, and I didn’t think I could ever be so grateful to hear that. I’ve already dragged him around enough. The last thing I need is for him to get in the way and die.
Or worse, having to watch him die.
Roman presses the gas, revving the car as we listen to the muffler’s loud roar while smoke spills from the back. “Let’s get moving, pretty boy.”
I hate it when he calls me that; it makes me feel like a bitch. With a smile, I flip him off and walk towards my car, where Chino already waits in the passenger seat.
The engine of my car idles beneath my feet, and the smell of oil and burnt rubber fills the night air.
My heart flutters inside my chest, the normal dose of adrenaline that happens with each race.
From the corner of my eye, I see the tiniest glimpse of blue two cars down, and the lover boy inside of me jumps at the thought that it could be her.
I am expecting to see her here after all...
But it’s just snobby rich boys and people invited to Fright Night who fill the lot.
Chino thought that we could find some answers if we infiltrated their circles, which is how we ended up in Cedarvale.
Now we just follow the small breadcrumbs Alec is leaving for us.
The truth is, we are also at his mercy, not just the girls.
He’s just fucking with us in different ways.
My hands begin to shake, the tremor runs through each digit for a moment, and I just watch the quake of my hand.
Before shifting my focus back to the race. Roman will be racing in the Mustang of one of the ODM assholes he beat up, his knuckles white as he grips the steering wheel.
“What’s gonna happen next?” Chino asks, lowering the volume of the Bad Bunny song playing on the radio.
“You’re going to go home.”
Chino’s breathing becomes heavy, and then he smacks the dashboard. “Fuck you! After everything, I just get to go home?”
“Yes,” I say flatly, trying to control the pain in my voice. He’s right to be angry, but this is how he stays safe and out of the way. I will have to match Roman’s freak inside Fright Night. I’ll make it out of that hell hole either a new man or a dead man.
“I can’t keep exposing you, man.”
He scoffs, leaning his body into the seat. “Fuck you,” is all he says before the light turns green and the tires spin as I let go of the clutch and launch forward. Tires spinning, the car’s tail shifting to the side as my hand battles to straighten it.
This is the rush I live for ...the need for speed.
Roman is already ahead, tailing the silver Mitsubishi Eclipse in front of us—the car of another rich snob.
I can safely assume it is part of ODM; they all have the same look.
White pearly teeth, colored eyes, designer clothing, and the same body type.
All of them are a copy and paste of some model in a magazine.
All too naive to face someone like Roman Delgado, who lives off the violence.
“Yo, what’s this fool doing?” Chino blurts out, inching closer to the dash as the Mustang closes in, pushing the Mitsubishi into the guardrail.
“Isn’t it obvious what he’s trying to do?
” My tone comes harsher than I intend, and I’m not necessarily okay with the things Roman does, but what can I truly do to stop him?
He will get to Xena even if he has to leave a trail of bodies—he wouldn’t hesitate to kill Tokyo.
And I can’t stand by that. Roman might have the brutality, but I have the patience.
It’s just a matter of time before I have to dance with the devil myself.