Page 66 of Forsaken Oath

Nate leans in closer, his voice low. “Word got out that Seven Pines has a driver in the Gauntlet. Could be something, could be nothing. You know how it is.”

Fuck. I swallow hard, my mind racing. “Yeah, alright.”

“Just watch your back out there, okay?”

I nod a few times, letting my gaze drift over his shoulder and trying not to let my thoughts spiral. I didn’t even think we had enemies like some of the other crews in the area. My mind snags on one tiny detail. “Hey, how did you even know where to find me?”

He drags a hand through his hair, shrugging. It’s a non-answer if I’ve ever seen one. More Seven Pines shenanigans, I’m sure.

I sigh, stealing one last glance over my shoulder. Beau’s gaze collides with mine, and my breath catches. The air seems to crackle with electricity, and I’m suddenly hyper-aware of every inch of my body, every nerve ending singing with anticipation. My heart kicks up a notch, adrenaline surging through my veins.

He slides his cap around to the back, and instead of the smirk I anticipated, a frown mars his handsome face. It triggers my own, the corners of my mouth tipping down into a scowl.

I glance at the sliver of space between the woman in the pink dress and him as if I could measure the degree of their closeness in inches. It's stupid. I'm being stupid.

I know I have no right to be jealous, no claim on Beau or his attention. But that doesn’t stop the ugly, twisting feeling in my gut.

I tear my gaze away, focusing back on Nate. His brow is still furrowed, his eyes darting between me and Beau like he’s trying to solve a puzzle. I clear my throat, straightening my spine.

“Thanks for the heads up,” I say, injecting a lightness into my voice that I don’t feel.

“Say the word, and we’ll bail.” Nate’s voice has an edge to it now.

“Nah, I’m in it now. Might as well show these assholes how a woman runs the Gauntlet.” It’s cocky and kind of dumb, but I’m desperate to move the conversation along before this jealousy starts eating me from the inside out.

Nate nods, grinning and glancing around. “Hell yeah, Thorne.”

The industrial park is a scene straight out of a dystopian movie. Rusted-out trucks are parked haphazardly, barrels and debris scattered along the crumbling walls of old brick factories.The buildings loom like forgotten giants, their windows broken or boarded up, casting eerie shadows in the moonlight. The air smells faintly of oil and damp concrete, tinged with the faint metallic tang of rust.

“Alright,” Nate says, leaning in closer to keep his voice low. “This first race is all about survival. Don’t take unnecessary risks, don’t try to show off. Just focus on speed.”

I nod, already forming a mental checklist. “What about the GPS? Do you know how accurate it is? Any delays?”

He shrugs. “From what I’ve heard, it’s pretty reliable. Just follow it and keep your head on a swivel. Some of these motherfuckers will do whatever it takes to win.”

“Yo, here’s your GPS, man.” A hand appears in front of Nate’s face, a small black screen clutched between his thumb and index finger.

“Thanks,” Nate murmurs, plucking it from his grip and handing it to me.

I hold the device in my hand, turning it over. It’s sleek, no bigger than a smartphone, with a single screen and a blinking red dot marking my position on the map. A surge of adrenaline spikes through me as I slide back into my car and tuck the GPS into the mount on my vent.

Nate leans against the doorframe, his gaze steady. “You’ve got this, Thorne. Just trust yourself.”

I nod, gripping the steering wheel. “I always do.”

The radio crackles, and the robotic feminine voice fills the car again.

“Drivers, the race begins in five minutes. Please ensure your GPS device is securely mounted and operational. This message will not repeat.”

Nate straightens, giving my shoulder a firm squeeze. “Do your thing, baby.”

“Don’t call me baby,” I grunt out, glancing in my rearview mirror.

“See you back home.” He steps back.

“Later, Nate.” I close my door, the world outside muffling into a dull hum. I look at the GPS screen, watching as a faint blue line snakes across the map. My fingers tremble slightly as I reach for my playlist and crank the volume, the familiar beat of my favorite racing track filling the cabin.

The radio crackles again, and the same voice begins the countdown.

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