Page 51 of Hyperspeed
As the first red light blinked overhead, the crowd fell silent, leaving only the low, pulsing hum of our engines. I watched as the second and then the third redlight appeared, and I counted down in my head, holding my breath until all five lights glowed.
Then they disappeared.
Go time.
At the first turn, Zylo crept up, drawing my focus. I didn’t see Dray until he slipped through on the inside, stealing the apex with perfect timing. I cursed under my breath.
On the next straight, I flicked to secondary thrusters, and surged ahead, Dray’s vehicle shrinking fast in the mirror.
The next twenty laps blurred into routine. I held the lead easily. No threats, no drama. Just an empty track stretching out in front of me.
After the chaos at Crystal Barricade, I should’ve been grateful, but halfway through, boredom crept in, and I craved a challenge—something, anything, to stir the blood.
It reminded me of what Jax had said at the start of the season.
“Being reckless after forty-odd laps spices things up a bit. Makes it more exciting.”
That race at Horizon Rings with the rookie had been electric. He’d beat me—and yeah, I’d hated it—but having someone to fight had made it all worth it. On the track, off the track, with him, every second was a battle.
Racing Rev, just the two of us, I’d pushed myself harder, took risks I’d never dared to before.
Reckless, just like I’d accused him of being at the start of the season.
But you couldn’t afford to be reckless with sixteen drivers on the track all at once. God forbid your reckless stupidity ended in a crash that left someone broken—or worse, dead.
Zylo’s last teammate, Xander Korr, was killed when a Vanguard racer sliced in front of him, forcing him into the barrier. Overwhelmed by guilt, she’d had a breakdown and been forced to withdraw from the rest of the season, and eventually the ASL.
Last I heard, she couldn’t board a shuttle bus without having a panic attack.
I wasn’t asking for carnage, though, just a little competition. Something to liven things up.
Instead, I was out front alone, cruising like it was a Sunday joyride.
No threats in my mirrors. No pressure in my gut. Just silence in the cockpit and a calmness that made me itch.
I hated that it made me sound like a smug asshole, but I wanted another race like the one Rev gave me. Tight turns. Smack talk. That sharp edge of not knowing who’d come out ahead.
Turns out, the universe listens. Just not in the way I’d hoped.
“Unpredicted solar flare detected,” Sam snapped, voice sharp with tension and static.
“Shit,” I muttered, watching the sky ignite above the clouds, knowing blindness was imminent. “Things are about to get hot.”
“Box on the next lap to change to heat-resistants.”
“How are the tyres?” I asked.
“Looking fine for now,” he replied. “Push as much as you can without burning the tyres too low. We need as much distance between you and the ground as possible.”
“Confirmed.” I stepped on the accelerator.
Sunlight blasted through my visor and blurred the track ahead. I forced my speed down. At least it was a straight and not a sharp turn in the blind.
Sweat pooled at my neck, and heat crept inside the cockpit. Systems were holding for now, so I flipped the heat shield on, kicked the cooling system into gear, and sucked down water through the straw in my helmet. The cockpit cooled just enough to ease the burn.
It wouldn’t last long, though.
“Jax is out,” Sam reported. “The flare blinded him at turn five and he ended up in the barrier.”
