Page 21 of Prince of Malice

I feel the repetitive vibrations of my phone buzzing in my pocket. Pulling it out, I look down at the screen, expecting Angelo’s name to appear, but instead I find Gianni’s, my brother.

Accepting the call, I put the phone to my ear. “What do you want?” “Why can’t you just keep yourself in check for more than five minutes?” he immediately demands. “Seriously, are you doing this stuff on purpose?”

“What are you talking about?” I play dumb.

“Don’t pull that with me. We both know that doesn’t work,” Gianni retorts. “You racing now? Do you know how stupid that is?”

“Relax. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” “Calm down,” I plead. “How did you even find out about that?”

“It’s my job to find out! Everything you do affects this family's reputation, good or bad, but you just can't seem to do anything good for us. You’re picking more fights, crashing parties, and now you’re street racing?”

“It’s just one night. To blow off some steam,” I assure him. “You have nothing to worry about.”

“Idohave something to worry about—my dumb brother getting himself into trouble,” Gianni curses. “Do you know how dangerous this is? Do you know who’s involved? How did you even get into this thing?”

“A friend gave me his spot. He’s told me everything’s legit.”

“Which friend? Who do you know that?—”

I cut him off. “Just somebody from class;he’s cool. He’s helping me out here, and I’ve got it handled.”

“I don’t care who this friend is. I don’t know him, so I don’t trust him. I want you out of this thing, now!”

“Do you know what? I do know him, and I’m going to this race. If you want me to stop, you’ll have to drag me out of that car yourself.” I end the call and slam my phone down on my desk.

I can handle myself. I don’t need Gianni constantly looking over my shoulder and telling me what to do. I hate it when he treats me like a kid. All it does is make me want to defy him even more. I want to race now more than ever before.

A blaring horn sounds from the parking lot below, roaring through my window and making my entire body feel like it’s shaking. Staring outside, I see Angelo leaning his head out the window of a seemingly brand-new, perfectly clean bright purple sports car.

I can’t wait to drive that thing.

Riding shotgun in Angelo’s car, I feel the roar of the engine all around me as the car careens down the Montcove streets. Screeching around corners, it barely dodges around the scarce nighttime traffic and races past stop signs and traffic lights.

“Can you even control this thing?” I ask Angelo, barely able to hear my own voice over the sound of the car.

“Why should I let you have all the fun tonight?” he calls back with an excited holler. “Just you wait til you’re behind the wheel.”

The dark gray shades of buildings around us blur together with the gleaming neon lights of the nearby signs and traffic lights to create a kaleidoscope of color as we fly past them in a flash.

The faint aroma of gasoline mingling with the warm air fills the car through my open window, creating an almost primal sense within me. This is intense, raw power. The power I can’t wait to have in my control.

“How much farther is it?” I yell over the engine’s growl.

Angelo grins. “You can’t wait, can you?”He chuckles to himself. “It’s just up here. We’re almost there.”

A smirk rides across my face.

Good.

Finally, I get to sit in the driver’s seat. I set the chair to the right position, letting my legs stretch out as they test the pedals. I wrap my hands around the steering wheel, feeling the leather grip onto my palms, and I hold onto it like a firm handshake.

Looking to my right, I see the row of other racers all set up in their cars as ready as I am. Each vehicle seems as expensive and intricate as the last, all of them boasting modded engines, spoilers, and racing-grade tires.

To my left, Angelo leans in through my window. “Alright, man, bets have been locked. I settled your entry money for you, so we’ll split what you win, but you owe me if you lose.” He pauses. “So just don’t lose.”

“Okay, don’t lose. Got it,” I reply, not taking my eyes away from the street ahead of me. “Anything else?”

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