Page 130 of Forsaken Oath

The audible directions on my phone drones, “Slight right ahead. Follow the curve to Dead Man’s Bluff.”

I grit my teeth at her cheery accent. Normally I love it, but my adrenaline is too high to appreciate it right now.

“Don’t do it,” I mutter, eyeing the car behind me. It’s trying to wedge between me and the bluff on the righthand side. Leaving me entirely too close to the drop-off on the left. It’s so dark, Ican’t even see how far the drop is, but with a name like Dead Man’s Bluff, my imagination runs a little too wild.

“Don’t you fucking do it,” I grit out, swerving into the curve and trying to hug the bluff.

Their headlights fill my car, blinding me. Their engine roars, a low growl of intimidation, or maybe a warning. All at once, I remember the accidents and mistakes and other unexplainable things that have happened during the Gauntlet. And the increasing severity of each one.

Fear blooms inside my veins, like one of those poisoned flowers. Its petals unfurling and releasing the potent and deadly emotion. Because in a race like this, fear is the kind of thing that can take me out faster than almost anything else.

There’s a very real possibility that whoever is behind me right now is the person behind all the sabotage. Which means there’s a chance that I could be next.

I give myself three seconds. Three breaths to be scared, to give into all the worst-case scenarios and let the fear overrule me. And on breath four, I exhale and let that shit go. I can’t control what they do. All I can do is focus on what I’m doing.

And I’m going to win the fucking Gauntlet.

I didn’t blow up my life to not win, so that’s exactly what I’m going to do. And maybe I could’ve repeated that like a goddamn mantra if I didn’t see a pair of headlights flickering in the distance.

“Shit,” I mumble, my heart sinking. “I’m trapped.”

57

BEAU

I shift gearsthe moment I see her. It’s weird that I can recognize the shape of her headlights anywhere. It sounds fucking dirty and strange, and maybe it is. But it’s not wrong.

Just like I could pick her out in a crowd with my senses bound, I just know it’s her. I already passed the other two cars, which means the asshole riding her ass like he’s gonna push her over the bluff is Paul Whitehall. And that motherfucker’s crazy enough to try it.

I push the gas pedal to the floor, the Hellcat's engine roaring as I hurtle toward Peach and Whitehall. My mind races almost as fast as the car, strategies and maneuvers flashing through my thoughts in rapid succession.

I came into this final race with one goal, and it wasn't to take the crown for myself. No, from the moment I found out Eloise and I both made it to the finals, I knew what I had to do. I was going to make damn sure my girl crossed that finish line first, no matter what it took.

I grip the wheel tighter, adrenaline surging through my veins as I close the distance between us. Whitehall’s car is practically glued to Eloise’s bumper, his headlights flooding her rearview.He’s trying to force her off the road, toward the deadly drop-off that plunges into pitch black.

Like hell I'm going to let that happen.

“Hold on, baby,” I mutter under my breath. “I’m coming.”

I slam the gas pedal to the floor, the Hellcat’s engine roaring like a furious beast as I rocket forward, eating up the distance between us.

My heart pounds in my throat as I hurtle toward Eloise, the cool night air whipping through the open windows. Determination surges through my veins, hot and fierce. There's no way I'm letting Whitehall run my girl off the road. Not while there's still breath in my lungs and fire in my blood.

Images of her flash through my mind like a frenzied slideshow. Her laugh, bright and uninhibited, the way it bursts out of her like she can’t contain the joy. The way her golden whiskey eyes light up when I bring her coffee in the morning, crinkling at the corners with sleepy delight. That little scrunch of her nose she does when she doesn’t like something, her freckles dancing across the bridge.

I see the soft curve of her smile when she looks at me, a secret just for us. The way she arches under my touch, skin flushed and glistening, my name falling from her lips like a prayer. The fierce determination that sets her jaw when she’s behind the wheel, hands steady and sure even as chaos erupts around her.

She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. The most real, most vibrant. Being with her feels like finally taking a full breath after a lifetime underwater. She’s the spark that set my world ablaze and I’ll be damned if I let anyone—including her—take her from me.

I feel a familiar calm settle over me as I near Eloise’s car, even as my heart hammers against my ribs. This is what I do best. This is where I belong. Behind the wheel, the roar of the engine filling my ears, the acrid scent of burning rubber andgasoline sharp in my nose. And this time, there’s something even more vital at stake than a trophy or a title.

Because this time, I’m racing for her.

I grit my teeth as I swerve around the final bend, tires screeching as they cling to the road. I’m close now. The timing is everything here. If I go too soon, I’ll end up hitting her, and if I go too late, then I’ll run myself off the road and Whitehall will push her off right after me.

“Three, two, one,” I whisper.

I swerve hard to the right just as her headlights flood my car, illuminating the interior in a blaze of blinding white. For a split second, our eyes lock through the windshield. Even at this breakneck speed, I can see the shock that ripples across her beautiful face, her full lips parting and her whiskey eyes widening as she registers my presence.

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