The roar of motorcycles shakes the abandoned stretch of highway.
Engines rev.
Music blasts from the parked cars.
People crowd around the makeshift starting line, cheering as the racers prepare for another illegal midnight race.
Torv sits on his motorcycle, helmet resting against his thigh while Dez and Brek stand beside him.
“Who’s racing tonight?”
Dez asks casually.
Torv barely looks up.
“Doesn’t matter.”
Then the crowd suddenly splits.
And you walk through.
Torv’s sentence dies in his throat.
Dez’s smirk disappears.
Brek slowly turns his head.
For several seconds, none of them say a word.
Their eyes follow you as you thread your way through the crowd, completely unaware that three of the most feared men at the race are watching your every move.
Dez lets out a low whistle.
“Well…”
Torv shoots him a warning look.
Dez raises his hands innocently.
“What? I’m just saying she’s—”
“Don’t,”
Torv cuts him off.
Brek’s eyes remain fixed on you.
“Who is she?”
Torv doesn’t answer.
Because he doesn’t know.
And somehow, that bothers him more than it should.
Dez leans against his bike, watching you with an amused expression.
“I think I want to find out.”
Torv’s jaw tightens.
Brek finally looks at the other two men.
“So do I.”
The three of them exchange a silent look.
For the first time that night, the race is forgotten.
Their attention is entirely on you.