Chapter 45
Chapter Forty-Five
TESSA
Everything happens within a few seconds, but the winding of Noah’s car seems to go on for ages.
A gasp leaves me, and there’s a high-pitched ringing in my ears.
I rip the headset from my head and rush off the pit wall. Someone shouts my name, but I keep running.
I don’t stop until my dad pulls up beside me on a golf cart with Beck and Van inside. Graham, who stays in the garage most of the race, is already standing near the wreckage when we pull up to the horror.
I glance to the starry sky from the sound of the whirring of the helicopter.
My body grows cold, despite the fire yards away.
Orange and red flames lick against the spilled gasoline with fury.
Beau’s car is unrecognizable, not much left of it besides the rubber.
Yet, he stands off to the side on his own two legs with a couple of paramedics tending to him.
Noah, however, is not standing.
I grab a hold of Beck and dig my fingers into his arm to steady myself. He moves closer to me but says nothing.
Our dad ignores the fire and everyone who tells him to stay back. He makes it over to my brother on a stretcher, and I watch the color drain from his face before letting myself get a good look at Noah.
Droplets of blood dot his face with a wide-open gash on his forehead. He’s unconscious, and I’m stunned into a panic. I can’t move. I can’t speak. I can’t do anything other than stare as my dad climbs into the helicopter with the EMTs and Noah on a gurney.
Then they’re off.
“Tess!” Beck’s wide eyes appear in front of my face, and everything comes whooshing back in.
Van is on the phone with our mom, who’s already on her way to the hospital.
Graham is bent down to the ground with his head hung low, his hand pulling on the strands of his unruly hair.
A thousand worries rush me, and the last few minutes swarm in like tiny shards of glass, cutting me with every little detail.
I shift my attention to Beau. With furrowed brows and reddened cheeks, he stares at his car, as if it’s to blame. Then he slowly shifts to Noah’s, which is completely torn in half with only one tire remaining.
Pushing past Beck, I walk out onto the track.
The fire is under control now, but nothing about the situation is.
“What did you do?!” I shout.
Beau snaps out of his trance and looks down at me. He blinks several times with his usual arrogance muted. “I…I…my…”
“You what?!” I shout. “I saw the way you were taking those corners!”
“Tessa!” Van calls for me, but I keep my back to him.
Remorse falls to Beau’s face, and he shakes his head. “Rome was right.”
Anger flies to my fingers. With my palm open, I’m ready to slap him, but someone tugs me backward. Rome’s arm is wrapped around my belly, and he hauls me into Beck’s arms. “Get her out of here.”
“No!” I claw at Beck’s arm.
He doesn’t let up, and I eventually stop fighting when Rome takes my place in front of his stepbrother. His fists are flexed by his sides, and he shakes his head, but I can’t hear what he’s saying.
Then comes Lucas.
He walks slowly and takes in the scattered debris and wreckage.
The longer I watch him assess the scene, the less angry I am and the more worried I become.
Noah.
Dad’s heart.
Our family.
Vanstone.
“Oh, shit,” Beck mutters in my ear.
His arm loosens, and my feet touch the ground.
“Rome,” Van warns.
Time stops.
Beau remains beside his stepbrother, and they appear like a team instead of enemies.
Lucas stands feet away with his arms crossed. There isn’t a single word muttered. Lucas stares at Rome, shifts to Beau, raises an eyebrow, and then looks back to Rome.
I know a challenge when I see one, and everyone knows that Rome Pierce accepts every challenge thrown his way.
Even when it comes to me.
His steps are calculated, each one heavier than the last.
“What is he doing?” Beck whispers.
“Causing issues,” Van snaps.
I slowly gaze around the open area, and everyone is at a standstill with the cameras rolling.
It was pure chaos earlier, and now it’s eerily calm. There’s no breeze whipping around us or reporters coming to assess the wreckage. It’s Rome and his father at the center of everyone’s attention.
I read Lucas’s lips easily. “Think before you act.”
Rome glances over his shoulder at me.
Our eyes lock.
“I love you,” he mouths.
Beck’s voice comes through like a thought in the back of my head. “Did he just say what I think he did–”
One moment, Lucas is standing in front of his son, and the next, he’s stumbling backward away from Rome and his fist.
“The FIA will not tolerate–” Rome swings on him again, ending the threat right then and there. He goes in for more, and suddenly, I can’t breathe.
Graham runs over with Dylan. They hold Rome back, who only thrashes a few more times before he towers over his bloody-nosed father.
“I will fucking end you for this,” Lucas threatens while being helped up by someone on his team.
Rome shakes his head and points a finger at him. “Just like I’ll end you for that.” He gestures to the wrecked cars. “I am done with the threats and the dangerous game you’re playing.”
I step backward as confusion and shock set in.
Rome’s name is called to the stewards, and both Dylan and Graham release him. Lucas’s eyes narrow into slits, and Rome smiles sickeningly at him.
Nausea rips through me, and I grab onto my stomach.
His back is to me as he walks over to the golf cart awaiting him, and then they take off in the opposite direction toward the FIA’s race control center.