Chapter Twenty #2
Wolfe laughs under his breath. “Should I be concerned none of you asked me?”
“No,” Thorne says immediately. “You’ll cope.”
Talon, already sitting astride his bike, slowly shakes his head like he regrets every decision that led him here.
“Are you all fucking done?”
Nobody answers.
“Good. Focus. Comms on, heads in it, and save whatever the hell this is for when we’re back.”
Thorne gives me one last wink as he reaches for his helmet. “Later, sweetheart.”
Draygon swings onto his bike. “Much later, apparently.”
“Jesus Christ,” Talon mutters.
Wolfe is still smiling when he turns toward his bike.
Four engines fire within seconds of one another, the sound rolling through the bay and vibrating straight through my chest.
I step back beside Andre and pull my headset on as they roll toward the entrance. I go straight back to the workbench because Reign’s bike still needs checking and Revel has somehow moved three of my tools while insisting he hasn’t touched anything.
Life keeps going.
A few minutes later the comms crackle.
Talon gives me his feedback first, then Draygon. Thorne follows with something useful for once, and by the time Wolfe checks in I’ve already filled half a page with notes.
“Mine’s perfect.”
My mouth curves. “Say it again.”
“No.”
“Come on.”
“You heard me.”
Draygon cuts in. “We all did.”
“Unfortunately,” Talon adds.
Thorne laughs. “She’s gonna be unbearable now.”
“Going to be?” Wolfe says.
“Fuck all of you,” I mutter, still smiling. “Ride.”
His laugh crackles through my headset, then the channel settles back into normal updates.
Road conditions. Wind. A damp section drying out. Thorne mentions a crosswind higher up, Draygon calls in a rough patch, and Wolfe confirms the adjustment feels better through the faster transitions.
I write everything down while Andre listens beside me.
It feels normal.
Then Wolfe comes through the comm.
“Fuck.
My pen stops.
Andre’s head lifts at the same time mine does.
Thorne answers first. “What happened?”
Wind tears through the channel before Wolfe replies.
“Got pushed wide.”
My stomach tightens.
Andre steps closer to the radio. “Where?”
Wolfe gives him the section.
Talon comes in next. “Can you bring it back?”
A beat.
“Trying.”
I put my pen down, because fingers just stop working.
Andre’s voice changes, all the earlier irritation stripped out of it.
“Talk to me about the bike.”
“Bike’s fine.” Wolfe takes a hard breath. “Just lost the line.”
The words should help.
The motorcycle is fine. Nothing failed.
Nothing I touched failed.
But none of that matters when I hear the strain underneath his breathing.
Draygon comes through next. “What’ve you got?”
“Wall left. Drop on the right.” Wolfe’s breathing is heavier now. “Not much room.”
My hand closes around the edge of the workbench.
There are still other racers out there behind them, not just our guys. Wolfe can’t simply get off the throttle and stop in the road without turning himself into something another rider could hit at speed.
Andre’s voice stays calm. “Keep it moving. Scrub what you can without making yourself unpredictable.”
“I know.”
The engine note changes through the comm, then Wolfe swears.
“Rear’s starting to come around.”
“Easy,” Draygon says. “Let it settle.”
“I’m trying.”
For a few seconds, all we hear is wind, engine and Wolfe’s breathing while he fights to keep the bike underneath him.
Then, quieter—
“Shit.”
My stomach drops.
Andre looks up sharply. “Wolfe?”
“I’m here.”
Something in his voice has changed.
He isn’t panicking though, which is somehow worse.
Andre’s eyes stay fixed on the course map. “You see anywhere to put it?”
A long pause.
“No.”
One word, calm enough to make my blood run cold.
Around me, the paddock keeps moving like nothing has happened. Engines fire in other bays, people shout over one another, somebody laughs somewhere behind us.
I barely hear any of it.
Andre leans toward the radio. “Then keep bleeding speed and use every inch of road you’ve got.”
“I know.”
Thorne comes through, and there’s nothing casual left in his voice now.
“Mate, talk to me. How bad?”
Wolfe doesn’t answer immediately.
When he does, his voice is steadier than Thorne’s.
“Bad.”
My chest closes.
“No.”
The word slips out before I can stop it.
Nobody answers me.
Talon says something under his breath that I don’t catch.
Draygon goes silent.
Andre’s hand closes around the edge of the table as though he’s holding himself there.
Wolfe takes another breath.
Then he says, “Andre.”
“I’m here.”
“You keep them riding.”
Andre’s whole face changes.
“No. You worry about your own fucking bike.”
“Andre.”
“I said focus on your road.”
“I am.”
There’s no fear in Wolfe’s answer.
That’s what scares me most.
He already knows.
I hear it before I let myself understand it.
Andre does too, because his eyes close for the briefest second before snapping open again.
“You have road,” he says. “Use every fucking inch of it.”
Wolfe lets out a breath.
“Doing my best.”
Thorne’s voice cracks through the channel. “You’re not fucking doing this, Wolfe.”
There’s a pause.
Then Wolfe laughs.
Barely.
Just enough that I recognize him.
“Bossy bastard.”
“Fuck you.” Thorne’s voice breaks on the last word. “You keep the fucking thing upright and you can tell me that to my face.”
Another rough burst of static.
I hear Wolfe breathe out hard.
“Thorne.”
“No.”
The answer comes instantly.
Wolfe doesn’t argue.
“Thorne.”
“I said no.”
Thorne sounds furious now, but the anger is thin and ragged around the edges.
“You don’t get to start talking like that. Keep your eyes on the fucking road.”
“I am.”
“Then shut up and ride.”
Thorne’s voice breaks on the last word, but he keeps going before anyone else can speak.
“And you get that bike back to this fucking pit, you hear me? You get back here, you bastard, because I love you. All right, mate? I fucking love you, and I don’t give a shit who hears me say it.”
For a second, the whole channel goes still.
Then Wolfe lets out a breath that almost sounds like a laugh.
“Knew you did.”
Thorne makes a broken sound. “Cocky prick.”
“Yeah.” Wolfe’s voice is rougher now, but there’s still that familiar warmth in it. “Love you too. Even if you are a miserable fucking wanker.”
“Fuck you.”
“Usually your answer to everything.”
That gets the smallest laugh out of Thorne, wrecked and breathless.
Then Wolfe says, softer, “Wa?yé?a.”
My eyes burn instantly.
“Wolfe…”
“Hey.”
“Wolfe, no.”
His next breath drags through the comm.
“Stop being so scared of taking up space, okay?”
I shake my head even though he can’t see me.
“Don’t do this.”
“People deserve your light, Echo. You hear me? Stop hiding it from them.”
My throat closes.
“I love you,” I choke out. “I fucking love you.”
“Love you too, wa?yé?a.”
The line breaks beneath a burst of static.
“Wolfe?”
Nothing.
Then his comm comes back, weaker this time. Wind, engine, something scraping underneath it.
Andre leans toward the radio. “Wolfe?”
Another rough sound tears through the channel.
And when Wolfe speaks again, all the playfulness is gone.
Just quiet certainty.
“Well…”
A breath.
“At least I got to know you both love me.”
“Wolfe—”
Thorne says his name too.
Neither of us gets anything else.
The channel erupts.
A violent scrape that tears through my headset, metal screaming against something harder, followed by one brutal impact that makes my entire body jerk.
Then static.
Nothing.
For half a second, nobody speaks.
My brain refuses to understand what I just heard.
Then Thorne screams.
“Wolfe!”
Talon’s voice collides with his.
Draygon swears.
I grab the headset with both hands.
“Wolfe?”
Static.
“Wolfe, answer me.”
Nothing.
Andre is already on another radio, calling race control, his voice clipped and fast while his free hand comes up toward the team channel.
“Everybody stay on your bikes. Nobody stops. Nobody turns around.”