Page 125 of Harley & Her Ferals

Harbinger is keeping up with me.

He’s close.

I swerve to stop him overtaking me.

I suck in a sharp breath, when we almost collide.

I tighten my hold on the handlebars, pushing the Harley faster.

It’s thrilling — a fucking rush like a fight.

When I glance behind me, I realize that I’ve pulled ahead of Harbinger.

I grin, exhilarated.

All of a sudden, everything goes dark, as I reach a tunnel with neon red lighting.

Lionzio did an incredible job on this tunnel. If Dad won’t praise him for it, then I’ll make sure that I do.

I focus on coping with the tight corners.

I’m confused, however, that when I emerge from the tunnel, I appear to have lost Harbinger.

Has he crashed? Lost control? Or simply fallen behind?

I push my advantage, speeding ahead.

When I take a tight corner, I find myself careening toward a line of flaming oil barrels.

I cuss in panic.

I’m going to crash.

I slow, skidding to the side.

Please work…

Narrowly, I miss the barrels, which scorch my leathers. I wobble but don’t fall, before I can balance.

I’ve survived.

I’m almost at the finish line.

I’ve won, right?

Sweating, I race to the finish line, which is at the end of the hangar. It’s sprayed with graffiti flags.

Yet I almost fall off my Harley, when I see that Harbinger is not only already waiting for me at the finish line but is resting casually beside his bike with his helmet on the saddle.

He claps, as I cross the line.

How the hell did Harbinger get here so far ahead of me?

The relaxed way that he’s leaning against his motorcycle only makes me more frustrated but also, makes me shake my head in wonder.

How many tricks does this Alpha have?

I park my motorcycle. Then I pull off my helmet and shove it behind me, leaping off.

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