Page 106 of Forsaken Oath

I press my lips against hers. It’s not a desperate kiss—it’s steady, lingering, like I’m staking a claim without words. She melts into me, her hands finding their way to my chest.

“See you on the other side, baby.”

“Not if I see you first,” she murmurs, cheeks flushed and lips swollen.

She pushes off her car, and I walk backward toward the Hellcat. I know she thinks she’ll be fine, but I have a bad feeling. A hollow ache in the pit of my stomach.

I watch Eloise climb into her car, a knot of unease tightening in my gut despite her playful confidence. Something about tonight feels off, a sour note in the air.

As I slide behind the wheel of the Hellcat, my mind races, running through possibilities and contingencies. I trust Eloise’s skill behind the wheel, but the unpredictability of the other drivers sets my teeth on edge. Especially after the stunt that asshole pulled in the last race. That Seven Pines fuck is still on my to-do list, and if I see him tonight, I’m going to make sure I repay the favor, tenfold.

I flex my fingers around the steering wheel, jaw clenched tight.

No matter what happens tonight, I won’t let anything happen to my girl. I’ll have her back out there, whether or not she realizes it.

I follow behind Eloise the couple of miles through winding country roads, fields of tall corn swaying like a sea on either side of us. The sun dips lower on the horizon, painting the sky in brilliant streaks of orange and pink. It would be beautiful, idyllic even, if not for the knot of tension coiling tighter in my gut with each passing minute.

We finally arrive at a large clearing, the sudden openness jarring after the miles of dense crops. It looks like an old airfield, a long strip of cracked asphalt cutting through the overgrown grass.

The old airfield had been reclaimed by nature, the asphalt cracked and buckled, tendrils of grass and weeds pushing through like stubborn fingers grasping for the sun. But the crumbling tarmac wasn’t the only path carved into this forgotten landscape.

Dirt tracks snaked off in every direction, winding their way through the surrounding fields as if drawn by an errant child’s hand. Some disappeared into the towering corn, others into the wooded area to the left.

As I pull up next to Eloise, I take in the scene before us. The old airfield is transformed, filled with a chaotic energy that pulses and thrums like a living thing.

People mill about, the excited buzz of chatter and laughter carried on the warm evening breeze. I half wonder if the coalition chose this spot for the semifinal race because the old tarmac runway is the perfect spot for the spectators to let loose.

Several other cars are already parked haphazardly around the clearing’s edges, a few drivers out and walking around,eyeing the competition with wary suspicion. The air feels charged, electric with tension and anticipation.

My girl stays in her car, her tinted windows giving her a thin veil of mystery. Though I’m pretty sure the other eight drivers know exactly who she is by now. I think the only person in the Gauntlet whoisplaying by the rules is Eloise. Everyone else has already made their own.

I keep a watchful eye as more cars arrive, pulling up alongside us. Engines rumble and doors slam as the final competitors gather. The growing crowd pulses with a feral energy, the thirst for speed, danger and glory palpable in the air.

The Camaro pulls up on the other side of Peach, revving his engine in that obnoxious way asshole drivers do. Before I can think to get out of my car, my phone vibrates with an incoming text.

Unknown Number: Turn your radio to 88.9 FM

I pause my playlist and turn on the radio. Static crackles in my speakers for a few seconds before the same robotic voice bounces around my car.

“Welcome to the Gauntlet. Congratulations on advancing to the semifinals. The race starts in ten minutes. In the next five minutes, your GPS device will turn red. Keep this device in your car at all times. This is your guide and tracking system. Tampering will result in disqualification. Attaching it to another vehicle will result in disqualification. Attempting to hack it will result in disqualification. The first five drivers to complete the twenty-mile maze will advance. This message will repeat once.”

“Fuck me.” I blow out a weighted breath.

A maze? That can’t be good. I scan the horizon again, my mind spinning with possibilities. After this is over, I’m going to find out which asshole on the coalition decided on a goddamn wooded corn maze, and I’m gonna send them a glitter bomb.

A maze means tricks, dead ends, backtracking—it means more opportunity for sabotage.

My thumb flies over my screen without a second thought.

Me: I don’t like this. Stick with me, yeah?

She replies right away.

Peach: I’ll be fine, Beau. Don’t worry so much.

Me: Humor me.

Peach: Try to keep up then.

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