Chapter 64 Lucy, Xander, Asher, Nitro, Fallon, & Kane #6
I dropped down hard into the saddle, my fingers scrambling for the throttle lock.
It had cinched down harder somehow, the metal catch jammed in place.
With a violent twist, I wrenched it loose, my palm burning against the friction.
The bike was already careening left toward the safety barrier, the audience's cheers morphing into gasps of alarm.
I leaned into the turn, counter steering so the front wheel went right.
The bike began to correct, trying to curve away from the wall, but I was too late.
The front wheel caught the edge of the barrier with a sickening crack of impact.
The collision sent shockwaves up my arms, but I'd managed to slow enough that I wasn't launched over the handlebars.
Torturous moments later, the machine shuddered to a stop against the padded barrier, still growling like a wounded animal. I killed the engine and swung my leg over and dismounted in one fluid motion, muscles tense with adrenaline. I grinned, not letting the audience see my fear.
I thrust my fist into the air, celebrating like the accident was all part of the plan. The crowd bought it, hook, line, and sinker. The show must go on.
The cheers swelled around me, and I played into the illusion, bowing dramatically.
My heartbeat thundered in my ears, adrenaline still coursing through my veins.
That had been too close. If I'd been thrown at top speed, they’d probably have to haul my ass out of the Cirque in an ambulance.
The idea of getting badly hurt in front of Lucy made my guts knot.
Seeing her close to death buried under big top debris had killed me.
I didn’t want to cause her that same kind of pain.
I scanned the sea of spectators, searching for her face.
There she was. God, she knocked me out every time I saw her.
Those piercing green eyes locked onto mine, and something electric shot through me.
Lucy wasn't cheering like the others. Her delicate brows were drawn together, lips pressed into a thin line. She saw through the charade.
In that moment of unguarded connection, I felt exposed. Not as Fallon the performer, the untouchable daredevil of DemonX, but as a man who’d nearly crashed spectacularly in front of the one person who made him want to stay alive.
I flashed her my most confident smile. The one that said: I meant to do that.
Her frown only deepened in response, those breathtaking eyes narrowing slightly. I could almost feel her calling bullshit from across the stadium.
KANE.
I rolled my motorcycle slowly up the short, narrow entrance ramp, the combined weight of me and the bike making the metal groan. Behind me, Cirque employees lifted the sloped pathway. Once locked into place, it became a seamless part of the latticed, spherical cage.
The Globe of Death had claimed more than one rider’s life.
It was simultaneously one of my favorite stunts, and the bane of my existence.
Lucy’s jaw had dropped when I told her I’d be performing inside it tonight.
She’d seen it on her first visit to Cirque du Sang and thought it was terrifying.
She was worried about me doing this, and that fact sent a thrill through me.
I had an Omega, and she cared enough to want me safe.
The circular metal structure creaked as I settled deeper against the saddle.
Then I brought the bike to life, the deafening roar of it echoing off the reinforced bars instead of pushing through to the crowd.
I adjusted my helmet one final time, the weight of it comforting against the tension in my neck.
My palms were slick with sweat inside my leather gloves, but I tightened my grip on the handlebars anyway.
The roar of the crowd outside the cage and the engine growling inside it both faded to a dull buzz as I focused on my breathing.
Ten seconds. Nine. Eight. Seven.
With six seconds to go, I shot a look to where Lucy stood, flanked by Xander and Fallon. My pack brothers looked enormous next to her petite frame. Fuck, she was gorgeous.
Five. Four.
The Globe of Death and I had dance many times before, with it always wanting to lead. I never let it win.
Three…
Two…
One. Now.
I revved the engine, feeling the vibration through my entire body, and I shot forward.
The cage seemed to expand and contract around me, synching with my breathing, as I leaned into the curve, climbing higher in repetitive circles.
This was how I used to feel all the time—trapped, deafened by my own thoughts, the world a cage I couldn't escape. I pushed the bike faster, needle of the temp gauge rising towards the red zone. The spiraling was endless as I rode along the curved walls, centrifugal force pressing me into the seat. Every other second, gravity tried and failed to reclaim me. The familiar rush of adrenaline flooded my system, but it carried with it a new sensation. Before Lucy, this high had been the only thing that made me feel alive. Now, it wasn’t life sustaining, it was life affirming.
The crowd beyond the latticework was a blur of faces, indistinct and irrelevant.
The only one that mattered was somewhere out there, watching with a gaze that somehow penetrated every wall I’d ever built.
I'd spent years not giving a damn if I lived or died during these stunts. Now, suddenly, I had a reason to make it out of the globe intact. It wasn’t that I didn’t love my pack before, wasn’t that I didn’t care about leaving them behind.
They just weren’t enough to keep me breathing when the worst impulses and thoughts attacked.
Lucy was more than enough. Lucy was it for me.
I leaned deeper into the curve, the tires gripping the metal as I climbed ever higher, giving the laws of physics the middle finger.
The buzz in my head intensified. It wasn’t the destructive static of my darker days before Lucy, but a crystalized focus that made everything else fall away.
My body moved on instinct, years of muscle memory taking over as I approached the top of the sphere.
Nearly vertical now. Nearly inverted.
The world turned upside down as I rode across the top of the globe, nothing but centrifugal force and precise balance keeping me from plummeting to the bottom.
For a suspended moment, I hung there, completely inverted, the ground a distant memory.
This was the moment crowds paid to see. This was man conquering the impossible, defying the natural order of things.
Of course, they were also here hoping they’d witness my defeat.
There was nothing a crowd like this thrived off more than a bloody, fatal crash.
I began my descent, spiraling back toward the base of the sphere. The pattern was hypnotic, meditative. Each revolution brought me slightly lower, slightly faster. Everything beyond the grid of metal was an indistinct haze, as if this was a dream and I was the only thing real.
That's when I smelled it. Kerosene and diesel. Asher's special fuel blend during cooler weather.
Son of a bitch actually did it.
We'd argued about it over the last couple days—his idea to set the globe on fire during my ride.
"Trust me," he'd said, that manic gleam in his eyes that appeared whenever fire was involved. "It'll be controlled. The audience will lose their minds."
I should have known better than to agree to anything that made Asher smile like that. I also should have double-checked with the Cirque that my psychotic brother got permission.
The first lick of flame appeared at the base of the globe, bright orange tongues crawling up the metal framework.
I couldn’t hear anything over the intense hum in my brain and the sharp crackling of fire.
I could imagine though: how the crowd would gasp, a collective intake of breath, as they watched this surprise unfold.
The fire spread with unnatural, dramatic speed.
Within seconds, the entire lower half of the globe was engulfed, the heat intensifying as I continued my circuit above the flames.
My stunt costume was fire retardant, so I wasn’t too worried about burning to a crisp.
My bike on the other hand hadn’t been outfitted with anything special for this.
At the very least, we should have swapped my rear tire for a car one with better durability and heat performance.
I rode lower.
Into the flames.
And it didn’t take long for me to clock a subtle change in the motorcycle’s handling. I glanced down and my stomach dropped. My tires were already burning, the rubber melting and beginning to smoke. The protective suit wouldn't save me if the tires failed completely.
I shouldn't have let Asher talk me into this, I thought, gritting my teeth as I maintained my spiral. The smell of burning rubber filled my helmet, acrid and chemical. Each revolution brought me closer to the heart of the fire, the heat against my suit increasingly painful. I’m going to kick Asher’s ass.
There was no stopping now. To brake in the middle of the stunt would send me crashing to the bottom of the sphere—directly into the inferno.
My only option was to continue the pattern, letting momentum carry me through until I could reach the escape hatch at the bottom.
Assuming the Cirque employees recognized the damn danger and lowered the ramp, otherwise I’d slam into an unyielding wall of fire and metal.
The rear tire gave way first, disintegrating in a shower of burning rubber.
The metal rim hit the globe's inner surface with a shriek that cut through the roar of the flames and the crowd's applause.
Sparks erupted where metal met metal, adding their own golden light to the hellscape the globe had become.