Page 33 of Psycho Boys

One by one, Marco raises his hand, and with each count, my pulse quickens. There’s no turning back now.

“Three… two… one… GO!”

The roar of engines blares like a symphony of chaos, and we’re catapulted forward. The Mustang surges, tires gripping the slick asphalt, and I glance over at Cali, who’s already pushing the accelerator, her determination cutting through the chaos like a knife.

We weave through the other racers, the night enveloping us as I feel every corner of the road beneath the tires. The Charger Cali drives glides smoothly alongside me in the Mustang, but the others tail close behind, a mirror of our movements. The wind rushes past us, mingling with the rain, and the scent of gasoline fills my lungs, igniting my resolve.

The world around us turns into a blur of headlights and the sounds of other engines roaring around us. As we approach the first sharp turn, I shift gears, adrenaline pushing me forward, and I pull ahead of her and the others. As we round a corner, I steal a glance back at my crew, and Cali’s smiling like a fiend. My heart swells with pride, knowing we’re not just racing; we’re reclaiming our lives from the ashes.

But just as we round the bend, a shadow looms ahead—a flash of red catches my eye. I realize it's Gunnar, his goons parked strategically at this point in the race. Fear flashes through me, urging me to slow down, but I refuse to back down.

“They’re here,” I mutter to Ash under my breath, focusing ahead.

He gets out his phone and calls Dom, then puts a call in to Killian, warning them of the potential danger that awaits us once we reach the finish line—if we even make it that far.

“Go!” comes Cali’s voice over the roar of the engine.

I can feel the urgency in her voice, and my resolve hardens. "No fucking stopping, no looking back."

The wet road becomes a testament to our resilience. With one last kick of the accelerator, I veer away from their presence, narrowly missing a collision, but the sound of screeching tires warns me they’re coming after us. Adrenaline surges, pumping through my veins as I try to shake them off.

Following the lead cars in the race, we barrel down a dirt road, tires kicking up dust and rocks that pelt against the cars. The Charger darts after me, racing through the brush, and I can almost hear the whispers of our anger fueling each turn, each feeling we’ve been trying to outrun for so long. With every honk of horns and shout from the crowd, I can feel the world around us distilling into the chaos of revenge and survival.

The trees arch directly overhead, closing in around us, cloaking us in darkness as we navigate the terrain. The roar ofthe Charger and the Mustang mingles with the sounds of nature, and despite the thrill, I can’t shake the feeling that this isn’t just a race anymore.

We’re dancing on the precipice of fate, and the slightest wrong move could send us careening into the abyss.

“Keep going, man!” Ash shouts just as a flash of headlights pierces the tree line ahead—a pair of headlights breaking through the dense foliage like a beacon of impending doom.

“Hard left!” I yell out my window to Cali, yanking the wheel. “We have to lose them!”

The woods around us become a blur as I slam the accelerator down, feeling both fear and exhilaration dancing in my gut. I can barely hear Cali's cheering behind me, but I know she’s ready to face whatever comes next.

“Hold tight!” I call out, and Ash grips the handle tightly as I take another sharp turn, veering deeper into the woods.

The headlights of the cars recede momentarily, but just as quickly, I hear the telltale roar of engines catching up. Suddenly, the path narrows, and I lock my eyes forward, focusing all my energy on navigating the twists and turns ahead. We need to find a way to shake them off.

“Any ideas?” Cali asks, her voice laced with tension through the earpiece.

“Just hang on! We can make it!” I reply, my focus unwavering. "Just get to the finish line so we can fucking win. Dom can collect our winnings."

In this moment, it’s not just about the race; this is our fight. We’re digging our claws deep into the chaos of our fate, determined to pull ourselves free and assert our control over the lives the darkness has tried to steal from us.

And with every inch we cover, it becomes clearer: the night might belong to the storm, but we’re its wild, unbroken children, ready to claim what’s ours.

The finish line bursts into view, a beacon of hope in the swirling chaos. We’re neck and neck with two other cars, the roar of their engines a deafening counterpoint to the pounding of my own heart. I push the Mustang to its limits, the engine screaming in protest, but holding strong. Cali’s right behind me, her Charger a relentless shadow. We’re a blur of metal and fury, a testament to our refusal to be broken.

We cross the line, a hair's breadth ahead of the competition, the cheers of the crowd a distant roar swallowed by the adrenaline coursing through my veins. The victory is intoxicating, a fleeting moment of triumph before the reality of our situation crashes back down. Gunnar and his goons are still out there, and we haven't even begun to deal with the fallout.

Pulling the Mustang to a stop, I kill the engine, the sudden silence almost deafening after the cacophony of the race. Ash and Killian get out of the cars and head for their bikes, their faces grim but exhilarated. Cali slides out of the Charger, her breath coming in ragged gasps, but her eyes blazing with a fierce determination.

“Dom?” I shout over the lingering sounds of the race, scanning the crowd.

We spot him on the bench, his face illuminated by the screen of his phone. He gives a barely perceptible nod, a silent confirmation that he’s got something. The adrenaline of the race is replaced by a cold, hard focus. The thrill of victory is quickly overshadowed by the grim task ahead. We’ve won the race, but the real battle is just beginning.

“Let’s go,” I say, the words clipped and sharp. There’s no time for celebration, no time for rest. We have a score to settle.

The drive to the cabin is tense, the silence punctuated only by the rhythmic thump of the engine and the occasional muttered curse. The rain has stopped, leaving the streets slick and reflecting the city lights in a distorted, almost hallucinatoryway. The air is thick with anticipation, the weight of our mission pressing down on us like a physical burden.

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