Downtown #3
?Yes, and I told you I wanted to know what you are up to!" I say hoping he would finally be honest with me?Making people race? Making them believe they actually have a real shot at winning something?!"
Lorenzo stares down at me for a brutal, silent second. For a fleeting split second, something raw flickersacross his handsome face, like he deeply regrets ever letting me get close enough to see this side of his world.
But the vulnerability vanishes as quickly as it comes. He gives Alex a sharp, wordless nod. Before I can even flinch, Lorenzo's hand shoots out, wrapping around my upper arm in a tight, unyielding grip.
He doesn't wait for my permission. He pulls me away from the crowd, dragging me past the roaring, exhaust-heavy motorcycles and deeper into the blocked-off VIP section of the lot.
Only when we are shield by the darkness does he finally drop his hold, shoving his hands into his pockets.
?Do you have any idea what you just walked into?" he snaps.
?Yes!" I fire back, matching his venom with the exact same attitude. I refuse to back down. ?It's not just an illegal race. The great, golden son of this city is running the whole damn thing and forcing desperate people into it."
?Careful now, stalker. You are walking on incredibly thin ice," he whispers.
And steps closer, towering over me until he completely blocks out the flashing lights of the party. His hot breath brushes against my skin, sending a wave of goosebumps scattering across my arms.
?I have never forced anyone to do anything," he adds, his voice dangerously calm.
?But you know they don't have a chance!" I yell, turning my head slightly to look back at where Alex how is still standing close beside Maria. ?That's why you and Ben are threatening students! Because they haven't paid off their bets yet!"
?What about me?" a smooth, cheerful voice interrupts.
Ben appears from the shadows, stepping into the VIP section. And stops dead in his tracks, his golden hair catching the dim light as he takes in the explosive tension between Lorenzo and me. A slow, amused smirk spreads across his face.
?Oh... hello there."
?Shut up!" we all snap at the exact same time.
Ben immediately holds up his hands in mock surrender, raising his red solo cup in a silent toast. He wisely chooses to save his skin, sliding onto one of the leather sofas without uttering another single word.
"How can you expect me to trust you when you don't let me in?" I ask, my voice laced with a sudden, stinging hurt. For a fraction of a second, I watch his hardened mask slip, revealing the raw conflict underneath.
"Sophi, I..."
He starts to speak, but a loud, piercing scream shatters the air, cutting right through the heavy bass of the music.
A static, booming voice echoes through the loudspeakers,
"Alright, everyone, let's gather around! It's finally time to start..."
The announcer's voice triggers a wave of roaring cheers. Beside me, I can feel Lorenzo's heavy gaze locked onto my face, his mind racing as he decides his next move.
"If I tell you to stay here... would you listen?" he asks, a desperate hint of hope in his eyes.
"No," I answer with absolute honesty.
He nods, clearly expecting nothing less from me. "Then stay by my side," he orders as he grabs my hand tightly, pulling me into his shadow. He hides me behind his large frame as we step out, followed closely by Alex, Ben, Matteo, and Maria.
The moment we walk out from behind the heavy curtains, the crowd erupts. A deafening wave of screams and rhythmic clapping hits us. I look around in utter shock as Ben, Alex, and Matteo wave down at the sea of faces, absorbing the applause.
That is the exact moment the scale of this hits me. This is so much bigger than I ever imagined. They aren't just throwing a show or participating in a race.
Across the arena, I see Santos. His face darkens, deep lines of fury etching into his features as the crowd's attention violently shifts away from him and onto us.
Them.
They aren't just throwing a show.
They are the show.
"Yes, yes! Here they are, finally back in our cozy playground! Better known to you all as... The Four Heirs!" the announcer screams into the microphone, sending a fresh jolt of wild excitement through the audience.
I look at Lorenzo. His expression remains dark and lethal, yet he nods his had, acknowledging the crowd.
Beside him, the other three do the same, looking down from our elevated vantage point.
It feels like standing on a royal balcony, forcing everyone to look up at us except we aren't in a palace.
We are deep in a gritty, concrete underground garage.
Frustrated, Santos makes a sharp hand gesture to the announcer downstairs, demanding he shift the spotlight back to his crew.
But when the guy reluctantly introduces Santos and his people, the response is not as loud.
A few scattered cheers fade instantly, completely drowned out by the lingering hype for the Heirs.
And even though everything feels so overwhelming,the fact that Lorenzo is still holding my hand in his makes it terrifyingly less overwhelming.