Change of plans
Chapter 47
LORENZO
"I can't believe this," Ben says, shaking his head in disbelief after Alex finishes recapping the story.
Yeah. I messed up.
Was it stupid? Maybe.
Was it worth it? Probably not.
Would I do it again?
Hell Yes.
Hearing that jerk talk about Sophia the way he did was just too much. Something in my chest snapped, and I don't regret a single punch.
"So, we're talking about the little one, right?" Ben turns to me, still trying to follow the drama.
I'm sitting on a worn, brown leather sofa in the back of the garage bay, still wearing my motorcycle jacket. My jaw is clenched as I hold a melting ice pack against my right knuckles. The skin is split and throbbing, but I barely feel it.
"He won't say a word," Matteo chimes in, standing up to pace the floor. He turns toward our group of mechanics, who all look completely defeated. "So let's think. If we lose this race today, it's going to ruin us. I can still ride in his place, but let's be honest,I'm not as good as Lorenzo."
"And I can't do it either. I've already had a drink," Alex mutters, holding up his glass.
"No shit" I hiss, glaring at him.
My sarcasm instantly breaks his fuse. Alex steps directly into my personal space, his face flushed, eyes burning with a rare, dominant fury.
"Tell me, Lorenzo, what exactly is your problem lately?" he demands, his voice dropping into a dangerous, low register that commands the entire room. "Why the hell are you suddenly so fucking emotional?"
The sheer intensity in his eyes catches me off guard. We rarely clash like this, let alone with him holding all the gravity.
"If this is about your stupid car, I'll buy you a new one," I hiss dryly, tossing the ice pack onto the table to mask the tension.
"It's not about the fucking car!" Alex roars, closing the remaining distance between us until we are practically chest-to-chest. He doesn't flinch. "You're acting reckless. One day you're entirely annoyed by her existence, and the next you're running after her like a dog on a leash!"
"Shut up," I snap, the heat rising to my face as the garage air turns suffocatingly thick.
"He's not wrong," Ben chimes in from the shadows, taking Alex's side. What a huge surprise
"Ever since the yard party, you've been completely different, Lorenzo."
"Yeah, well, it's none of your business," I fire back, my voice echoing violently off the concrete walls. "I have a lot on my plate with that anniversary celebration. My family is suffocating me."
"Fine! But you are not the only one!" Alex screams, his arm slashing through the air as he points aggressively from Ben, to Matteo, and back to himself. "We are all busting our asses here! Every single one of us!"
He steps even closer, his chest heaving, his gaze cutting right through my defenses as he studies the cracks in my expression.
"So tell me," he commands, his voice dropping "Is there something we should know?"
"No," I growl, forcing myself to stand up to my full height, refusing to let him break me completely.
I walk past him toward Matteo, clapping a hand onto his shoulder to break the spell.
"Besides, we haven't actually lost yet, have we? So let's forget about what just happened out there and beat the absolute shit out of Santos's team on the track."
Matteo lets out a low grunt, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Not the best choice of words given your bloody hands, Calloway."
We both let out a rough laugh, the heavy tension in the garage finally breaking.
"Okay, fine," Alex sighs, taking another long sip. He checks his watch and winks at the red-haired girl who is still waiting for him by the door. "The gates are opening. I'm going out to check on the DJ. Don't break anyone else's face before the starting whistle."
Twenty minutes later, the sun vanishes beneath the horizon, plunging the industrial wasteland into total darkness. But the warehouse district doesn't sleep. It comes alive.
Massive, blinding floodlights slam open, cutting through the night and illuminating the asphalt lanes. The massive iron gates swing wide, and the crowd pours in like a tidal wave. Hundreds of people flood the concrete grounds, their voices rising into a deafening roar.
BOOM.
BOOM.
BOOM.
The bass from the heavy speakers hits my chest like a physical blow. The DJ drops a massive, dirty techno beat, and the entire ground begins to vibrate. The air turns thick with the scent of expensive perfume and the ever-present hum of electricity. Everywhere I look, people are losing their minds.
I'm still standing inside the shadows of the warehouse, a cold drink clutched in my hand as I watch the madness from afar.
"What a shame that you can't participate," Santos's mocking voice cuts through the thumping bass from behind me.
I don't even bother turning around. I just stare out at the flashing lights, my expression entirely deadpan.
"You know, I'm satisfied," I say, my voice cool, dry, and sharp as a knife. I take a slow sip, completely unfazed by his presence. "Because now I know for a fact that you're a coward. You're too scared to face me like a real man, so you have to play dirty instead."
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Alex's alarmed gaze from across the floor. He immediately starts moving toward us, ready to intervene, but I give him a single, firm shake of my head.
I finally turn around, stepping into Santos's space before he can even open his mouth to retort. I lean down, my shadow completely swallowing him.
"And next time, I'm going to make sure you stay down," I hiss, the threat lethal and quiet. "Stay away from her."
I don't wait for a response. I turn my back on him and leave him standing there, ignoring his shouts.
I weave through the pulsing crowd, making my way over to Matteo, who is already throwing his leg over his bike, getting ready to take my place on the starting line.
Just relax and enjoy the party, I tell myself.
As the music takes over, I try to drown out the memory of how he talked about her. I try to forget the anger.
And, most of all, I try to forget the fact that I actually care this much.