Fastlane

Chapter twenty three

Nadia

After the whole ordeal at Kendra’s, I didn’t stay long. I hightailed outta there, pushing both myself and my car to our limits, doing everything humanly possible to get my ass back to Stonebridge.

When I finally did get back, I stumbled into Pop’s house, delirious and sleep-deprived, only to find everyone intact and safe.

There was no trouble on either the East or West side.

The North side was quiet too, apart from rumors of Dion storming out of his father’s house fuming about who knows what.

Only after I did calm down did I realize what day it was.

Saturday, the qualifying race was in a couple of hours, and I was running on fumes.

I severely miscalculated the time while I was away, but hacking into the phone was urgent, and I was getting antsy just sitting and waiting for something to happen.

Quickly, I grabbed a shower and changed into black cargo jeans, a cropped white cami with black lace that Isla gifted me one Christmas, a leather jacket that hugged my neck, and some cute boots. Abby was waiting to catch a ride with me when I was done.

“How you feelin’?” She asked as soon as I pulled out of the driveway.

“Why?”

“Cause you were a mess when you got home. Did something happen?” She presses.

“I’m tired of lying, Abby. So, fucking tired, so don’t ask me to do it right now.” I sigh, head falling back on the seat.

“Then don’t lie, Nadia. Tell me the truth.” She pleads.

“One day. It will all make sense.”

I ignore her. The rest of the drive to the track is silent. I know she’s seething, but I don’t want her caught in the crosshairs of Olympus. She doesn’t understand what they’re like, what they’re willing to do if they think someone is in their way. As soon as we arrive, she hops out and storms off.

I sigh, pushing this out of my head. I need to focus on this race. Tonight’s qualifier is a street race. Dion and I will be racing at the same time, but also with two other opponents. We will each have to beat our respective opponent if we want to race Riven on the Daredevil.

I pull up next to Dion and the rest of our opponents.

One of them is Dylan, the LBC freshie I coached to get his first win.

Dion’s opponent then, cause there would never have been an LBC versus LBC race.

I look to my left, only to find Roxy already staring back at me. Well, isn’t this fucking great?

I want to roll my eyes and slap JC for this stunt. Somehow, I find the patience I need and instead refocus on the task ahead of me. Street race, right. Leave the track, head into the central parts of

Stonebridge, through a stretch of forest, get onto the highway, and then finish back at the track. Beat Roxy. Simple. Easy, even.

Skylar walks out, grey bandana in hand. Engines scream before the flag even drops. That’s how it always is. Too many egos. Too much noise. Not enough patience. I rest my hands on the wheel, fingers flexing once, grounding. The car hums beneath me, steady and familiar. Reliable. Always reliable.

To my right, Dion glances over, something sharp and unreadable in his expression. To my left, Roxy revs too hard, too eager. Amateurs. I don’t look at them again. I don’t need to.

The flag drops, and I’m gone.

The city blurs. Streetlights streak into lines, tires biting into asphalt as I cut through the first turn clean, tight, perfect. The engine responds exactly how I expect, how I taught it to.

Control. That’s all this is. Control.

Dion and Dylan are somewhere, lights glaring in my rearview. I go fast, too fast for Roxy to keep up. Corner, straight, gone. She falls back where she belongs. Behind me.

By the time we hit the forest stretch, I’m ahead. Not by much, but enough. The road narrows, shadows swallowing the edges, trees closing in like they’re watching. This is where most people hesitate. I don’t. Instead I brake-

The car doesn’t slow enough, and my brows pull slightly. I adjust. Downshift. Correct. I still manage to take the turn clean, but something’s off. It’s subtle, but it’s still wrong.

The race continues, the pace staying swift and speedy.

We get to the next turn, and I go faster.

Only when I hit the brake again, it’s too soft.

Too late. The car pushes wider than it should, tires skimming the edge before I drag it back into line.

But it’s enough for both Dion and Dylan to cut ahead of me.

My grip tightens on the wheel. No. That’s not-

- I test it again on the straight. Just a light press. Delay. Then response, a beat too slow. My jaw clenches. No.

I don’t slow down; I adapt. Downshift harder. Earlier. Let the engine do the work the brakes aren’t.

Fine , I think in my head, talking to the brakes like that’ll make them obey me. You don’t want to listen? I don’t need you.

We break out of the forest and onto the highway. Speed opens up. This is where I usually end it. Where I win. I push. The engine roars, the car surging forward, wind ripping past. I tap the brake again.

Nothing. Well, not nothing, but not fucking enough. The pedal sinks lower than it should, and my stomach drops.

Okay. Okay. I don’t panic. That’s not me. I’m in control. I think and then do the only thing I can. I

downshift again. Let the engine bite, let it drag me back. The car jerks slightly but holds. Barely.

I exhale slowly through my nose. Control. I still have it. Still-

Headlights flash in my mirror. Roxy. She’s closer than she should be. Because I’m compensating. Because something is wrong.

Up ahead, the final stretch curves back toward the track. Sharp. Crowded. No room for mistakes. I hit the brake harder this time. The pedal sinks. Too far. Too easy. The car doesn’t slow. Not enough. Not nearly enough.

Oh, this is bad.

I downshift hard, too hard, the engine screaming in protest as it catches, dragging the speed down in jagged increments. The turn is coming too fast. Too fucking fast.

I angle wider, trying to bleed speed, tires screeching as they fight for grip. The barrier’s too close. The crowd’s too close. If I miss this, it’s game over. Headlights cut across my vision. From the wrong direction. From the front. What the hell?

He comes out of nowhere. Straight into my path. Riven. For a split second, I think, ‘ he’s lost his mind.’

Then I see it. The angle. The timing.

“Don’t-” I warn all too late.

Metal slams into metal, the force jerking the wheel out of my hands for half a second before I

wrench it back, the collision killing my forward momentum just enough. Just enough…

The car skids sideways, screaming, but slower now, and I correct. Slam the gear down, drag it back into line. Past the turn and past the barrier. Back onto the straight. The finish line is right there.

I don’t think. There’s no time for that. I don’t look back. I just drive. Like hell is at my rear, desperately trying to drag me down with my demons. I cross the finish line just barely ahead of Roxy. An inexperienced driver compared to me. Who shouldn’t have finished anywhere close to me.

Barely. That was too damn close. Too messy. Too fucking wrong. I slam the car to a stop and kill the engine. Silence hits like a punch, a mixture of relief and shame coating my lungs like a toxic sludge. It’s embarrassing and infuriating at the same time.

My hands are still locked on the wheel. Knuckles white, my breathing uneven.

No. No, no, no.

I shove the door open and step out, adrenaline still ripping through me, anger hitting faster than anything else.

“What the hell was that?!” I snap at Riven, who’s already out of his car. He doesn’t even look at me. He walks straight past me to my car.

“Hey.” I grab his arm, yanking him back.

“I’m talking to you.”

“Your brakes are gone.” His tone is flat. Certain. Like it’s a fact.

“…no, they’re not.” I blink, trying to deflect.

“They are.”

He pulls free, crouching near the front, checking something I can’t see. I move around, watching as he presses the pedal from the outside. It sinks. Too far. Too easy. My stomach drops again. He can’t be involved.

“That’s not-” I start, then stop. Because I felt it. I knew it the instant it started, and apparently, so does he. Riven stands, looking at me now. Really looking.

“That wasn’t you.” He says. The noise of the crowd comes rushing back in. Loud yet distant.

I glance at the road, at the turn. At where I should’ve crashed.

This wasn’t a mistake. This was meant to happen.

And I almost let it. I know exactly who did this.

Well, not who, but I know who gave the order to.

My jaw tightens, something cold settling in my chest. Not fear.

Not anymore. They don’t get my fear anymore. No, I’m the one to fear now.

Someone just tried to take control from me. And I don’t lose control.

“Someone tried to sabotage you.” He shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Who?” He asks when I remain silent.

“Doesn’t matter.” This time, it’s him who yanks my arm when I try to walk away.

“You’re gonna give me whiplash, phantom.” Whether from the force of his hand or his back-and-forth emotion, I don’t know.

“Someone just tried to kill you. You do realize that, don’t you?” He’s being condescending.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” I jerk my arm away.

“Not that it’s any of your business. So, stay out of it.” I walk away.

“You don’t get to give me orders anymore. I’m not yours, remember.” The words make me freeze.

“But, as the leader of the Phantoms, I get to give you this order: tell Pop I’m calling a meeting. Tomorrow, nine a.m., at the high school.”

I don’t acknowledge him, but he and I both know I’m gonna relay the message. I have to. We both have nothing left to say, so I leave.

I’m always the one leaving.