Page 89 of Ignite

She’s flying straight through the fucking corner.

My blood freezes.

I don’t breathe.

Don’t blink.

Every fucked-up image I’ve ever seen comes back at once—metal flipping, glass exploding, her body…

I squeeze my eyes shut.

I can’t.

I can’t lose Hallie.

Not like this.

When I open them again, the air slams back into my lungs.

She’s on the track.

She’s okay.

But the Bugatti’s almost at the line.

“Under fucking steer,” I hiss.

My fist cracks against the hood of my Range Rover.

She was right there. Inches from taking it.

But none of that matters.

Because for three full seconds I thought she was gone.

And now all I feel is pride burning a hole in my chest as she crosses the finish.

The crowd loses their minds.

But no one goes near the McLaren.

They know better.

“Con… you ain’t going to explode here, are ya?” Rowan mutters beside me.

“Me? Explode? Never.”

I cross my arms, lean on the Rover, eyes locked on her.

Hallie pulls into a space like she owns the whole damn night.

She kind of does.

“Nah. I’m not mad. That was fucking hot,” I mutter.

I tap Reggie on the shoulder, jaw still tight.

“Stay by the car, I’ll be back.”

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