Page 34 of Hell Storm

Liv hated that I came to these things. She always pointed out the obvious dangers, and I ignored her every time because I loved it. Everything about it—getting to see the bikes people brought down to compete, the thrill of a challenge, the sweet taste of a well-earned victory. Even now, with what I’d just been through to get here, I only felt excited.

“Well, looky here,” came a deep, throaty voice to my left. “Looks like Runt decided to come out to play with the big boys again.”

The statement prompted the rider to my right to give me a onceover, sizing me up as competition, I guessed. I kept my eyes trained straight ahead, wishing it was time for the race to start so I could leave these two idiots in my dust. Unfortunately, there were still bets being placed.

“It’s been a while, Runt,” the second oaf now teased. “Thought you finally came to your senses and realized these sorts of events aren’t any place for a lady.”

I kept my mouth closed.

“Yeah … might wind up getting yourself hurt,” the other added.

Seemed these two sought me out every time, finding something ridiculous to threaten me with before we rode, attempting to get inside my head. It was no secret that I had more wins under my belt than most, which meant there were a few bitter riders who didn’t appreciate me cutting into their bottom line. However, I would never throw a race for fear of what might happen when I won.

My lack of a response only egged them on even more.

“What’s a dainty thing like you doing down here anyway?” I was asked.

Dainty? I was no such thing. Yes, I was a bit on the thin side because food had been hard to come by before, but I was nearly matching them both in height. This fact made it clear the comment was just another attempt to undermine me.

Instead of engaging, I continued to ignore them.

The two shared a look and then laughed. Apparently, they finally got the message.

It took a good ten minutes to get the crowd settled and the races underway. Gripping the handlebars tightly, I kept my attention on the scantily clad woman standing before us, checkered flag in hand. She planted both feet firmly in the soil, and bore a wide grin as she lifted both arms into the air, dropping a split second before the row of motorcycles roared and plowed full-steam ahead.

I lived for this, freedom unmatched. And to top it all off, Julian’s bike was beyond amazing. It offered the smoothest ride I’d ever had, by far. I gave it some gas and the engine opened up like a dream. Trees whizzed past in my peripheral and I kept count of how many riders I left in the dust.

Two, three, four.

As I was pressing toward the front, I couldn’t imagine there was evenonefast enough to beat me. With that thought, I smiled and considered how good it would feel to not only return to my team tonight, but return with food, supplies, and money—three things we couldn’t function without.

I could practically feel it now, being swept up by their warm embraces, getting to hug Riot again. Those things alone made the risk I’d taken worth it.

A tire creeping up on my left prompted me to glance over. It was Oaf Number One again, inching his way closer in a surprisingly fast rust-spotted, blue classic. He gave a menacing smile I ignored, taking notice when his friend moved in from the other side.

More than anything, I was annoyed, but a small part of me was concerned too. It was a known practice to play dirty out here. With so much cash at stake, it wasn’t uncommon to hear of riders being sabotaged or injured between the start and finish lines. I, myself, had seen things, but I felt confident saying this was the first time I ever feared being targeted.

Slowing down just a bit, I let them pass. With this bikes speed, I’d make up for it easily on the next lap. Maneuvering between other bikers, I made it to the outer edge just as we exited Lan’s Bridge and started toward the woods. Riding there was always kind of touch and go. Depending on the weather, the condition of the soil changed. Like now, with the night air being particularly dry, there was more dust kicking up than usual. It made visibility low, which caused a few to slow down, but not me.

I was here to win.

In my peripheral vision, I spotted that distinct blue again and it became obvious these two didn’t intend to back off tonight. Especially when Oaf Number Two thought it’d be cute to swerve so close that our front tires nearly touched.

“Keep it up and you’ll get usbothkilled!” I yelled out, knowing that statement was only half true. Should he cause an accident, he’d be temporarily banged up from it. I, on the other hand, wouldn’t likely be so lucky.

The only thing my outburst did was make them laugh. And instead of steering them away, it seemed to make me more of a target.

The trees were denser on this leg of the race, which required greater focus. In short, it was the wrong time to have my attention on anything else. Like the two imbeciles who’d managed to get close again.

“Careful, Sweetheart. Wouldn’t want you to fall and scratch up that pretty little bike of yours,” one taunted while the other laughed. I attempted to speed up to get away, but couldn’t when the blue classic was maneuvered in front of me. The other stayed at my side.

I wobbled when my tire was kicked, and while they had me distracted, the one who moved in front hit his brakes, forcing me to slow my pace. It became clear they weren’tnearlyas concerned with winning, as they were with me losing. It proved they had a lot less riding on this than I did. Maybe to them a win just meant extra cash in their pockets, but it was much more than that to me.

Another foot to my tire and I nearly went down hard. I was certain other riders saw, but none stopped or even slowed down to help. These events were the epitome of the every-man-for-himself mentality.

That large boot lifted, and with how far he reared it back, I knew he aimed to gather enough power to knock me off this time. And when the brake light in front of me blazed red again, it was confirmed.

Like before, my only option was to swerve. It was all I could do to get out of the way before being kicked again, the only way to make certain I didn’t collide with the one who had cut me off so recklessly. However, instead of the maneuver being my saving grace, it was my downfall.

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