Page 19 of Forsaken Oath

“Anyway.” She drags the word out. Her gaze bounces around the kitchen, landing on everything but me.

My fearless sister is nervous about something, which makesmenervous.

“Just say it.” I lean my ass against the counter and fold my arms across my chest, bracing for impact.

Margot toys with her can, spinning it around on the counter next to her. “Well, see, the thing is, remember how you took my advice and did something spontaneous a couple of months ago?”

I never told her or anyone else the specifics of that night with Beau in Oak Creek.

That night felt like something that belonged to me and only me. It wasn’t a secret, but something I wanted to keep close. Something just for me. A reminder that sometimes magic can happen. Even if only for a fleeting moment under the stars, with a man hotter than sin.

I glare at the scuffed soles of my sneakers and wait her out.

She sighs. “Well, I was riding real high off the fact that you took my advice, so when this opportunity fell into my lap, I jumped on it. And I mean, I pounced on it, Louie.”

I shake my head as a thousand scenarios run through my head, each one worse than the one before it.

Margot reaches into her back pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper. She flattens it against the counter, her fingers smoothing over the creases before she slides it across the counter.

I glance up, preparing myself to school my expression, no matter what’s on the piece of paper.

Of all the possibilities running through my head, this never even came close to making the list.

Pale green paper with an illustrated blue octopus taking up one half of the flyer. I don’t even need to read any more to know what it is. Everyone knows what the blue octopus means.

It’s not a crew like Seven Pines. It’s not a gang either. More like a community. An underground racing community. I only knew of them when I saw an octopus flyer at Seven Pines’ garage a few years ago. One of the mechanics, Smitty, talked my ear off for damn near two hours about the Gauntlet. He had a cousin buy-in five years ago, made it all the way to the semifinals too. Then it turned ugly and quick. Friends turned on one another and sabotage ran rampant.

I’ve heard rumors of people training for years to be ready for the Gauntlet. They travel in from all over the region to qualify. It’s like their Super Bowl times ten. The way Smitty talked about it, the Gauntlet might as well be their holy grail. The payout is bigger, the stakes are higher, and the only rule is there are no rules.

And my sister just signed me up for it.

“I entered you in The Gauntlet.”

I can feel the blood drain out of my face, and I almost glance at the floor to make sure it’s not in a pool beneath my feet. I feel lightheaded and dizzy, like the one time I wasn’t paying attention, and smashed my head into Nate’s garage door as it was opening.

“Why.”

She jams her index finger into the paper. “It’s the Gauntlet, sis. Thefucking Gauntlet.”

“What do you even know about that?”

She taps her fingernail on the counter, her lips pursing. “I know you’re the best goddamn driver in all of Seven Pines, and your talent is wasted as an amateur pornographer.”

“Jesus Christ. I am not a”—I lean forward and lower my voice—“pornographer, Margot.”

“You’re damn right you’re not. You’re the best motherfucking driver in all of Avalon Falls,” she shouts, like she’s hyping me up before a game or something.

I roll my eyes and force some of the anger to relax. I just realized I have an out. A definitive one. “You’re ridiculous, you know. And besides, it doesn’t even matter. I’m not paying the buy-in, so this entire conversation is moot.”

“Well,” she says, her voice high-pitched in the way that I already know I won’t like what she says next. “See, the thing is Lou Thorne, I already paid your buy-in.”

Three questions slam into my brain at the exact same time.

“Stop. Back up. Explain.”

Her mouth curves into a triumphant grin, and she leans forward, planting her elbows on the counter. “I entered you under Lou Thorne, because fuck the patriarchy, remember? Those assholes are vicious in the Gauntlet, especially those pre-qualifiers, so you gotta stay in your car until after you smoke their slow asses.”

Lou Thorne is the fake name I use when I have to book a motel room while working. Creeps are more inclined to leave me alone if they don’t know I’m a woman traveling alone.

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