Page 97 of Celestial Combat

Zane stopped at the driver’s side window, leaning down, hands braced on the roof and door, caging me in.

The air between us thickened.

The sounds of the city felt far away – the distant sirens, the hum of JFK Airport, the last echoes of roaring engines down the road.

His voice was dangerously quiet. “Try that again,” He said, the weight of each syllable sinking deep, “We’re gonna have a problem.”

I exhaled sharply, biting back a smile. Not a real one – a slow, sarcastic smirk that barely curled my lips. “I might.”

His eyes didn’t waver. Didn’t flinch.

Zane didn’t deal in empty threats.

A slow inhale, measured and steady, before he pushed off the car. “We’re leaving.”

I stared at him for a moment, fingers tightening around the wheel. I could still feel the adrenaline in my veins, the lingering heat of the race, the unshakable need to keep going.

Headlights started flooding the street, before the sound of tires rolling slow over asphalt thickened into a hum. The dark metallic purple Nissan GT-R Nismo pulled up in front of us, rolling through the scattered crowd like a goddamn shark.

The low purr of the engine cut off. The door opened, and a man stepped out.Jiehong. Deputy in New York’s Triad.

Bad reputation.

His eyes swept the street, lingering for only a moment on the dissolving crowd before landing exactly on Kali.

Before I could even say a damn thing, Jiehong caught a set of keys that had been thrown from somewhere behind me. I looked over my shoulder, catching Kali just as she shut the car door behind her.

I frowned. “What are you doing?”

Jiehong stepped forward, running his thumb over the Porsche emblem like it was already his.

“She bet her car on the race.” His voice was smooth, unhurried. Too fucking sure of itself.

“Tony won the race,” I argued back.

“She didn’t bet with me.”

I turned around to see Tony lean against his Ferrari.

My fingers twitched.

I exhaled slowly, forcing the tension down.

Behind us, the meet was already starting to dissolve – engines revving, people scattering back toward their own cars.

The race was over.

And they’d seen what they came to see.

The engine of Kali’s Porsche roared to life before Jiehong pulled away with a screech.

Kali just stood there, shoulders relaxed, not a trace of anger on her face. Just frustration.

That same look I’d caught when I apologized for what happened four years ago.

She didn’t say anything else, just started walking towards my SUV.

I didn’t even think before my hand shot out, fingers curling around her upper arm.

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