Chapter 83
CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE
RUSH
Burned rubber and gasoline filled my lungs. I leaned against the hood of my car, crossed my arms, and watched the crowd gather near the abandoned lot where the races were about to start. Astrid had better not show up.
After scanning the crowd once more for her and not seeing anyone who remotely looked like her, my gaze landed on that fucker, surrounded by a bunch of other assholes. Their laughter was too loud, their gazes too pointed.
Something felt off. It had all day.
Too many of the wrong people were here tonight, and for the first time in my life, I thought that maybe I should pull out of this race. I didn’t care about getting my ego stroked for winning. I didn’t care about the supposed popularity winning gave me.
But really? I wanted to see that asshole lose. Again.
Still though, something felt off in the pit of my stomach.
Across the lot, Calix talked with Cairo and Arch, their heads low. Frasier stood off to the side, spinning his keys on his finger, eyes flicking to every unfamiliar car that pulled up. I didn’t know how to fucking explain it, but I couldn’t shake this feeling.
If Astrid showed up, I’d be fucking pissed.
My fists clenched by my sides. I’d told her not to come, begged her in my own way. She had no idea how bad tonight would get based on all the shit that fucker and his friends had caused last night and into this morning.
They weren’t playing fair, and they wouldn’t.
Because they couldn’t win any other way.
Phone buzzing in my pocket, I slipped it out, only to see a couple of social media notifications that I hadn’t turned off. Astrid hadn’t said a word to me or in the group chat for hours now, and I didn’t know if that was a good or bad sign.
Hopefully, she was still at Diya’s house. She was safe there.
“You good?” Frasier called across the lot.
I nodded once and responded with, “Just ready to get this over with,” but I doubted he could hear me over the revving engines. I shoved my phone back into my pocket and pushed myself off the car.
That asshole pulled up beside me with custom and illegal car mods, his friends gathered near him, laughing, lighting cigarettes, passing a joint and alcohol between them. I grimaced and sank into my driver’s seat.
Perfect. He’s distracted.
He got out of his car and sauntered over to mine. “Ready to lose, princess?”
I looked up at him, expression unchanged because I wasn’t going to give him what he wanted. I wasn’t going to react. He knew that he had lost last time against me and that he’d lose today. I wasn’t going to play into his little games.
Frasier flipped him off behind my back, and I almost smiled. Almost.
When he finally returned to his car, our engines roared to life at the starting line. The crowd gathered around from all sides, hungry to watch this feud unfold. I revved my engine and glanced over at that asshole, who was smirking.
As if he had already won.
One second passed, then another, and then the flag dropped in front of us, and I hit the gas.
Tires screamed against the asphalt. The world blurred around me. We flew down the empty streets, going well over one hundred fifty miles per hour. But I didn’t stop, barely even slowed around the corners.
I peered into my rearview mirror to see that dickhead way behind, not even close, like he usually was. I hit the gas harder, wanting to go faster, loving the fucking rush of it, and zoomed through the finish line.
Once I spun the car around at the end of the strip, I headed back to the starting line, where The Crew was waiting for me. That dickhead pulled up a few seconds later, with that same shit-eating grin.
Frasier clapped his hands together. “And you thought you’d win.”
“Winning?” he said, jumping out of his car. “Who said anything about winning?”
Calix tensed beside me, and the asshole grinned wider.
“I said he’d lose.” He nodded at me, slow and deliberate. “And he did.”
Frasier stepped forward. “Maybe you need to clean your eyes out because you were miles behind him.”
He tilted his head. “Funny that you all think I was talking about the race.”
My stomach twisted.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Arch growled.
After slipping back into his car, he started it up, rolled down the window, and tossed something out of it. A lock of hair, tied with a black ribbon, landed at my feet, and the world suddenly stilled.
“Tell your girl thanks for playing. We’ll be in touch real soon.” Then he was off.
I stared at the lock of hair—Astrid’s hair. Everything suddenly clicked into place, and then I was hopping in my car to follow that fucker. Only one thing was certain … I’d kill him for touching our Hellcat.