Page 125 of Heartless Legacy

The girl flicks her hair over her shoulder and says. “He’s already got his lineup for the victory lap.” My gaze slides over the group of girls standing behind him. They each hold a sign with his name and a number on it. Above the numbers are the words, lap.

I snort out a laugh. “Eeew, no. I’m not here to jump into your little post race session.”

“Then what do you want?” Pax asks, hands clenched at his sides.

“Maybe we should talk about this without an audience. We wouldn’t want the wrong people to hear our strategy.”

“Strategy?” The girl with the tatas chuckles, then says as if I’m a two-year-old, “Sweetie, you must be new here. The only strategy is to drive fast and don’t crash.”

That’s the worst strategy to employ. I continue my stare off with Pax. “Do you wanna hear what I have to say or not?”

He says, “I get that you have a thing for speed, Thea, but that doesn’t make you a racer, and just because you might watch from the stands or on tv that doesn’t make you an expert in the sport.”

He might as well be patting me on the head to go along with his condescending tone. Why am I even standing here trying to help him? I don’t give a shit if Pax loses. I just don’t want the guy they’re betting a lot of money on to win.

“Pax, are you refusing to hear me out because I’m not a racer or because I’m not a man? I only ask, because it looks like every woman over here was carefully curated to fit the image of what people think street racing is all about. No offense, ladies. You all look smoking hot. I’m just pointing out that I notice a theme.”

To Pax, I say, “My life experiences are different from theirs and yours. I didn’t have parents or a fancy school that offered Driver’s Ed. I don’t have safe driver points on my insurance policy. When I was thirteen and needed to practice driving, the only person who let me behind the wheel was someone who drove fast along complicated routes, while evading capture pretty consistently.”

The queen tata huffs, “What does that fabricated story have to do with Pax the Ax?”

Pax the Ax? Pax theAsshole. Pax theCoxsucker. Those make sense. But Pax the Ax? Internally I’m rolling my eyes so hard that I explect them to fly out of my sockets when I open them. “Pax the Ax, do you think I made up that story?”

He snorts, “The legal age to get a permit in Nevada is sixteen, right?”

“Fifteen and a half.”

“Exactly, so there’s no way you were legally driving at thirteen, Thea.”

Didn’t he pay attention to me at all when we were stuck together? Has he forgotten all the shit I’ve done? The thing with his bike? I’m insulted and I add his car to the list of vehicles I’ll be taking for that joyride LJ mentioned. “Did the wordslegalcome out of my mouth? I said I needed to learn. The person who taught me didn’t give a shit about the law. Hence the fast driving and evading capture. Now, do you want my help or not?”

The other drivers are milling around, talking to their mechanics or engaging in their pre-race rituals. My gaze shifts to the girls again. Maybe this is Pax’s ritual. To be surrounded by beautiful women who gas his head up, telling him how big and strong he is. Maybe that’s the only reason he’s here, and he’s not really interested in winning.

“Okay then, suit yourself.”

I return to my place on top of the concession stand just as the next set of drivers start their practice run, putting my confrontation with Pax out of my mind. I relax and let the excitement build for what’s about to happen. I love the setup here and the atmosphere the Skullz have created. This is street racing at its finest. The only thing more exciting than watching is being behind the wheel.

Chapter 73

Thea

Another night, another legacy party. I crack my neck, trying to ease the tension I’m carrying around there and in my shoulders. It’s been a busy few weeks. I’m juggling too many realities. School student, friend, phoenix spy, girlfriend, daughter, granddaughter, cousin, enemy, recovering victim, league prospect.

It’s the last one that takes up so much of my free time. Every challenge I accept entrenches me deeper into the clutches of The League of the Daggered Raven, and further’s someone else’s agenda. Their trust is a good thing. The more they trust me, the more access I have for information, upping my chances of finding something to use against Malcolm. On the outside, I look like I’ve got it all together. Inside, I’m holding the pieces of myself together so tightly the cracks are leaving cuts in my hands.

Finn smiles at me from across the room, and I fight the urge to roll my eyes or smile back. Just like he promised, he showed up at the dorm with a full debrief on what he learned from the guy in his trunk. It wasn’t much. Someone anonymous reached out to him to participate in Mayhem Night, promising to pay him for being there and taking video. He never got his moneyand the website he was told to upload his video to went dark the following morning.

Finn promised to keep digging. I didn’t tell him to continue, or tell him to stop. I’ve got other things to worry about. Like the two-month leaderboard review, which could happen any day now. I drift around the edge of the room. Tonight, I got a few smiles and had to fight back the urge to cringe when people asked where Joshua is. Thankfully, he’s out of town on business, which delays the conversation I’m sure they’re thinking about having with him.

Idon’twant to go back to being a companion, but I’m also not a fan of the high council deciding that part of my punishment for my absence is to attend league events alone. I’m the prospect they’re using as a cautionary tale of what happens when you get caught committing a crime and run away from your responsibilities as a companion.

Eloise laughs loudly, trying to draw more attention to herself. I ignore the sound and snag another glass of champagne off the tray of a passing server before stepping outside for some air. I wander around the grounds sipping my bubbly, and come across a topiary hedge maze at the end of the garden walkway. I walk towards the entrance, hesitating briefly before stepping inside. This’ll be a much more interesting way to pass the time.

I’ve made five wrong turns to my three successful ones when I feel it. That sensation snaking along the back of my neck that says I’m not alone. I tell myself it’s fine. That I can’t be the only one drawn to the structure. Of course, other people will probably want to try it out too. Only, I don’t hear any footsteps. I look at the nearly empty glass in my hand. Maybe it’s the champagne going to my head.

I walk a little longer and still can’t shake the feeling. I could turn around and retrace my steps to see if I’m alone, but I want to make it to the end. I’ve made another successful turn when Ifinally hear what sounds like gravel crunching under a shoe. I’m met with silence when I stop to listen. The kind of silence that means someone’s trying not to make any noise.

I turn, walking a few yards back the way I came, and catch sight of a shadow slipping around a corner. Another crunch of the gravel comes from the path I was just on. I whip around just as another shadow darts out of view. Someone laughs behind me. A dark, hollow, distorted sound.

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