Chapter 32 Xander, Asher, Nitro, Fallon, & Kane
XANDER, ASHER, NITRO, FALLON, to make her so fucking miserable she begged to go back to Seattle. The contract would stay intact if she rejected us, and we’d hopefully get matched with someone less pathetic later. One worry ate at me though—what if we took it too far?
I tried to redirect my focus back to the race, yet the unnamed Omega hovered like a dark cloud.
A woman was moving to the middle of the street, our headlamps illuminating her supple figure. In one hand, she carried a strip of white cloth. It was nearly time.
With a flick of my wrist, I cranked the throttle, letting the sound of my bike drown out the world. Others did the same. The layered roar of a dozen engines echoed around us.
“Ready?” Asher shouted, giving me a thumbs up. I nodded, and he pulled his visor into place, face obscured behind tinted lens.
I glanced around at my other brothers. Nitro unzipped a breast pocket of his leather jacket, pulled out a pocketknife, looked at it for a second, then shoved it back out of view.
I swear the guy couldn’t sleep at night if he didn’t have a blade under his pillow.
Fallon cracked his knuckles and rolled his shoulders.
Kane was finally sitting on his bike, one booted foot tapping the pavement as if it couldn’t stop walking.
Breaking the law was a game we knew well, though we didn’t court cops often these days.
Ahead of us, the woman lifted the material into the air.
She stayed that way for a heartbeat, making sure everyone saw, then she dropped her arm quickly.
The world narrowed as my vision sharpened.
Buildings became a blur, engines screaming around me.
I shifted through the gears, leaving my thoughts—and the unnamed Omega—behind.
There was no place for her right now. There’d never be a place for her later.
Each racer carved their path, fighting against one another, and I followed suit, eyes locked ahead.
All that mattered was now.
This moment.
And it belonged to DemonX.
ASHER.
The instant the flag dropped, I launched forward. My heart pounded, an erratic drum beat against my rib cage. The thrill surged through me, electric and undeniable. I hit the gas, my motorcycle screaming, as the asphalt stretched out before me. Soon, I was in first place.
With every wheel rotation, I felt a fractional kind of relief. If I kept riding, further and faster, would the burdens weighing me down fully lift?
The other riders fell behind as I opened the throttle wide. I owned the road, and nothing could slow me down. I glanced in my rearview, seeing the silhouettes of my competitors. They were still too close. I wanted them so far behind that they had zero fucking hope of catching me.
I pushed the bike to its limits.
My triumph was fleeting, though. A group of racers began to close in on me, two of them my pack brothers. I clenched my fists around the handles, willing the bike to push further. Still, they came closer… closer… and then they were hot on my heels.
I pressed the play button on my bike handle’s media remote, and rock music blared through my helmet—a cacophony that made my pulse pound.
The engine’s growl.
The banger song.
My heartbeat synching to the chaos of it all.
Just as I soared through a tight corner—a rider behind me nearly kissing his front wheel to my back wheel—I activated the flame system.
The ignition timing faulted, fire erupted from the tailpipe, and intense glee shot through my veins.
My competitors reacted instinctively, veering away and giving me precious seconds to increase my lead again.
With every inch I gained, I felt lighter. This would help. It wasn’t torching a building, but I felt saner than I had in months. It gave me hope that my pack would make it through, that we’d hold out until we found a solution.
But then, something shifted in the distance. A shape formed, standing in the middle of the street, waiting to be hit. A woman's silhouette, shimmering as if I viewed her through a wall of intense heat. The sight captured my attention. It would take a large fire to produce that effect.
An involuntary thought popped up—was she a burn victim?
Hospitals all her life. A sickness. A cure.
An image flashed in my mind, a scene far too dark to dwell on.
Of a fragile woman, stood at the center of an inferno, every inch of her body charring.
I tried to recall the flimsy details from Eros. Not fire. Not burns.
But… I could change that.
“Focus!” I mentally snapped at myself.
I’d fallen behind. Dammit!
I surged forward, weaving through the racers who’d taken advantage of my distraction. Irritation bloomed when I noted Nitro was one of them.
NITRO.
I zipped past Asher, who seemed engrossed in his own mind. A devilish grin stretched across my face, as I carved my own path down the asphalt. I had no patience. Zero care if I hurt myself or others. Only a sharp desire to push every fucking boundary remained.
My wheels ripped a path as I overtook another racer. The engine’s growl became white noise as blood rushed into my ears. I twisted the throttle harder, harder, until the engine screamed for mercy.
We were supposed to follow a certain route, but I didn’t want to risk losing.
I made a split-second decision, taking a hard left onto a cross street.
Fuckers would probably disqualify me at the end, but I’d cross the finish line first. Rules were chains I'd been breaking my whole life.
Authority was bullshit. The real high wasn't winning; it was destroying the game itself.
My sharp left gave way to another. Then a right, shooting me straight to a road that was part of the race route.
Nothing else mattered.
Not Cirque du Sang.
Not knives.
Not the pack.
Certainly not the fucking Omega we were going to terrorize into leaving.
I felt light as air.
Not a care in the damn world.
Then I caught sight of a woman jogging. Why the fuck she was out so early, with dawn still a couple hours away, was anyone’s guess.
Damn, she had a body though.
My breath hitched for a moment—tight leggings hugging her curves and a sports bra that did little to support her breasts. She looked healthy, like she could keep up with a bunch of bastards like us.
That thought sent me down the rabbit hole, falling towards the useless Omega arriving later today.
She wouldn’t be like this woman, full of vitality, out in the dark, running toward some unknown destination.
Weak things didn’t belong with my pack.
Weak things didn’t belong, period.
She wouldn’t last long.
I envisioned her back pressed against one of my targets. Blade after blade flying through the air, missing her flesh by mere centimeters. I’d surround her with knives, outlining her body. Maybe I’d accidentally graze her. Maybe I’d make her bleed.
Maybe I’d lose this fucking race if I didn’t get my head in the game.
FALLON.
While the other racers pressed forward feverishly, hunched over their bikes with singular focus, I trailed behind.
The vibration of the engine between my thighs, once electrifying, brought me no joy.
I’d lost my hunger for riding, for the bite of wind against my body, for the thrill of winning.
And I’d quit craving the slick heat of bodies tangled in sheets, the euphoria of intense release.
Hell, I’d stopped caring if I kept breathing.
An empty vessel. Hollowed out. Ready for discard. I felt nothing, indifferent to the outcome. The finish line could be in another dimension for all I cared.
Even while the others plotted and planned how to drive the Omega away, I couldn’t bring myself to join. And I was the strategist, the mathematician, the one ensuring our wildest stunts were survivable.
I felt unsettling indifference to the woman we were supposed to mate with, the woman who was supposed to cure our spiral into madness. Her scent, whatever it might be, couldn’t possibly penetrate the layer of dust coating my senses.
Maybe I felt nothing, because I knew she wasn’t forever, not by a long shot. She would come into our world, only to leave again.
Leave, because we didn’t want her. Leave, because she was the last thing we needed. Leave, because we were five broken men beyond repair.
There was zero point expending energy on a nothing that would lead nowhere.
If my pack brothers wanted to drive her away, we didn’t need some complicated, twisty plan. We could just shove her into the replica Iron Maiden stored with our show props. It was, against our old manager’s wishes, functional.
Sharp, iron spikes.
Not long enough to kill, but long enough to maim.
She’d last seconds in there, fragile body shaking in fear. A spark of amusement lit inside me. Though it fizzled quickly, it was proof I wasn’t completely numb yet.
I chuckled softly, my gaze flickering to the chaos unfolding ahead. The other riders strained against their machines. I watched as Asher fell behind and Nitro rocketed forward. I frowned when Nitro took a sharp left out of sight, a rule breaker through and through.
As I rode, going fast enough to keep the others in sight, a little voice in the back of my head whispered—
What if we can’t scare her away?
What if she’s different than we imagine?
What if her arrival changes everything?
KANE.
The noise around me was ear-splitting. I didn’t know how we hadn’t brought the cops down on us already. Fuckers were probably all taking mid-shift naps in their squad cars. Didn’t blame them. Only idiots were up at this hour, raising hell.
The cold slapped my face with blistering force, and I wondered if I’d get frostbite. I should have worn the full helmet.
I found myself two riders behind the lead. The finish line was tantalizingly close, beckoning me to push harder. With every twist of the throttle, an insatiable desire to drive back bone-deep feelings of worthlessness grew.
It wasn’t rational. The prize money was a drop in the bucket for us, but I wanted to win. I didn’t care if it made sense. So. Much. Failure. I seemed to ruin things all the time now. Breaking parts. Botching easy repairs. Letting my bond with my brothers fall apart.
And what was supposed to fix me?
An Omega so damn broken she had to be delivered wearing protective gear.
But here, right now, I could achieve something.
I was so close.
The vibrations of the engine seemed to synch with my heartbeat. They both said: Faster. Beat faster. Ride. Ride quicker.
Things would make sense on the other side. I just had to get there first. No one was going to steal my victory. A smile began to spread my mouth. I was far enough ahead now. No competition.
In a split second, Nitro veered in front of me, emerging from an unsanctioned side street. Rage ignited inside of me like a lightning bolt—quick, bright, and blinding.
“Fucker!” I yelled at the top of my lungs; the word lost in the wind and din of engines.
I tightened my grip around the throttle, pushing the bike harder, hitting max speed, despite how my face burned from the cold.
Buildings and parked cars passed in a blur of shapes and colors.
I zipped after Nitro, knowing that if I crashed at this speed, I’d probably not survive.
But that mattered less than beating him.
Reckless.
Stupid.
And it was impossible to curb my overwhelming appetite to win. I couldn’t check myself. I couldn’t fight my way back to sanity when the feelings crashed down on me like this.
I watched as Nitro’s front tire crossed the finish line.
Impulsively, I ripped off my helmet. As it flew from my grip, crashing against the pavement in a stunning explosion of plastic, resignation washed over me.
Nothing was right in my life, and the stupid Omega arriving today was no exception.