Page 56 of Forsaken Oath

“Look, Beau. I know, okay?”

My heart stutters for a beat before kicking into overdrive. I keep my expression carefully neutral as I lean back against the car. “Yeah? Know what?”

“I know about the inheritance.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut. Silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken truths. My mind scrambles to connect the dots. How the hell does he know? And more importantly, why? The whole point was that Nana Jo’s will was read privately for each of us.

Shit, I still don’t know what some people inherited from Nana Jo and that was over a year ago.

A laugh bubbles out of me, low and disbelieving. “Goddammit, Graham. You hacked the lawyer’s office, didn’t you?”

He shrugs, glancing away like it’s no big deal. “They’re a law firm, Beau, and they don’t even have basic firewall protection. It wasn’t hard.”

“So it’s their fault? That’s what you’re saying?”

“I’m not saying that.”

“How long have you known?”

He hesitates, then sighs. “I got curious after about a month. You stopped racing and wouldn’t tell me what Nana Jo left you, so I decided to do a little investigating.”

“You fucking hacked the lawyer’s office. That’s not what I’d call investigating.” I shake my head, caught somewhere between disbelief and inevitability. This is exactly the kind of shit Graham would pull.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice is quieter now, tinged with something I can’t place. Hurt, maybe.

Uncomfortable, I shift my weight and look away. “Does it even matter? I broke the terms anyway.”

Silence falls again, heavy and suffocating.

“Why’d you race in Clearwater, Beau? What’s going on?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

I look at him, imagining his reaction if I admitted the truth: that I threw away a fortune for a chance to spend time with a woman I met two months ago. Even thinking about it makes me feel insane. No way in hell I’m telling him that.

I swallow roughly and force my face into a smile I don’t feel. “If I win, maybe I’ll tell you. In the meantime, why don’t you tell me about your inheritance, since you seem to know all about mine?”

He saunters down the stairs into the garage, brushing past me. “Nah. It’ll never happen, so it’s not worth talking about.”

Before I can ask what he means, he changes the subject, running a hand along the Hellcat’s fender. “What do we need to do to get her in top shape for the first race?”

“When’s that race, hmm?”

He glances over his shoulder, smirking. “No insider trading, man.”

A laugh escapes me. “Insider trading? This isn’t fucking Wall Street, Graham. Who are you fooling? The Gauntlet’s built on back alleys and dark zones.”

He tsks, finishing his stroll around the Hellcat. “Yeah, well, you’re gonna have to wait for the text like everyone else.”

“And when’s that text coming?”

Jogging back up the stairs, he throws a grin over his shoulder. “Three days. Get the Hellcat in top shape, bro. Maybe swing it by a real mechanic.”

Top shape. Graham always says that when he’s worried about something. Get the house in top shape, there’s a storm coming. Get the Alley in top shape, we’re gonna be a Gauntleted-qualifier.

Looks like I’m not the only one who doesn’t trust the Gauntlet’s lawlessness. The Gauntlet doesn’t reward strategy; it rewards the reckless.

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