Chapter 34
THIRTY-FOUR
KANE
The road stretches out ahead, endlessly black under the glow of streetlights and silvery moonshine.
My car shoots forward violently, and I come alive for the first time in so fucking long as the G-force slams me into the seat.
I guess I needed this rush of adrenaline to wake me the hell up.
But it’s bittersweet. The world collapses into a tunnel of blacktop and wind noise through the open window as I quickly shift through the gears.
First.
Second.
Third.
I’m ahead, but not by much.
“You’re a fucking lunatic,” Chris growls through the speakerphone.
“How badly do you want to win this race?” I ask as I glance in the mirror and see a flash of Chris’s headlights hanging just behind my back quarter panel. Let’s hope for his sake that he enjoys the view of my taillights. But just as I think it, I accidentally swerve.
“What the hell are you doing? What are you trying to prove?”
The road blurs as my speedometer climbs.
Maybe the world feels hazy because we’re speeding down this deserted stretch of road so fast, or maybe because I wouldn’t pass a sobriety test.
The car eats the blacktop, while wind batters the frame as the road markings blur into pale streaks beneath me.
I white-knuckle the steering wheel. “I’m trying to prove that it’s all about pride, Chris. All of it. So tell me, how much do you want to beat me?”
A loaded silence… as much silence as is actually possible with the wind ripping through the open window and tossing my hair around my temples. I stare into the darkness up ahead.
Chris continues, his voice strained. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
It’s already too late for that.
“How much do you want to win?” I ask, pressing harder on the gas.
“I want to win, okay! I want to beat your privileged fucking ass. You have no damn clue what it’s like to have to fight for everything just to settle for leftovers.”
The dark shape of his car eases into view beside me, inch by inch, edging up to my passenger side.
“What if I told you none of the privilege is worth anything if I don’t have your sister in my life?”
“What the fuck do you want, Kane?” He sounds exasperated now, like he’s at a breaking point.
His front bumper lines up with my door as he curses, shifting gears and pushing the engine to the max.
He’s got this. He’s a stubborn fuck and he’s going to win this time. Our mirrors line up, and then we’re dead even. The finish line is quickly approaching, and the car surges as I bury the throttle. But so does his.
We thunder down the straight road, shoulder to shoulder, like two missiles.
“What do you want, Kane?” he shouts above the sound of the whipping wind and our snarling engines.
We lock eyes through the window. “Looks like you win.”
He keeps looking between me and the road, trying to make sense of what I’ve said.
“I don’t want to beat you, Chris,” I explain. “I’ve already lost. There’s nothing waiting for me on the other end of that finish line. ”
His eyes fly back to mine, and I see the moment realization hits. “The fuck?! No!”
But it’s already too late.
I yank hard on the wheel, my heart thundering as the Bugatti speeds toward the shoulder.
The tracks rush up beside me. There’s an abandoned train in the darkness ahead. I aim for it, the Bugatti tearing off the asphalt and flying over gravel and weeds.
Chris shouts through the speakers, but I keep my foot down.
Until the last second, when the front end slams into the side of the train and everything goes dark.