Page 8 of Firefly
Not the race.
But me.
The flag drops, chaos explodes, and the bikes launch forward.
Wind tears through me instantly as I lean low over the tank, flying down the deserted road. The world blurs into streaks of neon and headlights while engines scream around me.
This… this is the only time I feel alive anymore.
No suffocating mansion.
No fake smiles and no Brayden Augustine trying to shove his tongue down my throat while reminding me I should feel honored he agreed to marry me.
No memories choking me from the inside out.
Out here, I’m just another rider. Another adrenaline junkie chasing freedom at a hundred miles an hour.
I take the first corner hard, my knee nearly skimming the pavement. Reid taught me that. He taught me everything.
Three years ago, he found me sitting beside the crash site where Hayden and Justin died.
The memory still cuts deeply through my chest.
The twisted metal.
The dried blood.
The flowers left on the side of the road. I used to sit there for hours trying to understand how Hayden could’ve died from drunk driving when he didn’t even drink. He hated alcohol because of his mother. He never would have gotten behind the wheel, and he sure as fuck wouldn’t have let Justin do it either.
None of it ever made sense.
My father made sure I stopped asking questions. He didn’t even let me attend Hayden’s funeral.
That alone broke something inside me permanently. I never got to say goodbye to my forever boy.
The grief swallowed me whole after that. I stopped eating… sleeping, and wanted to stop existing altogether. My father almost had me committed after Maggie found me unconscious beside the empty pill bottle, but Maggie ensured she would keep me safe and, with Bianca’s help, he didn’t lock me away.
The only person who ever truly saw me was ripped away overnight, and everyone wanted me to move on like Hayden was just some phase I’d outgrow.
Then came Brayden.
The golden rich boy with perfect teeth and dead eyes.
My arranged future.
The prison sentence wrapped in expensive cologne.
I grip the handlebars tighter. I hate him. I hate the way he talks to me, the way he treats my body like it's something he owns. The way he sneers and calls me frigid when I refuse to let him touch me.
Hayden was the only boy who ever did. And some twisted part of me still belongs to him completely.
The race ends almost as fast as it started. Reid wins, obviously—before disappearing into the night with Jade clinging to his back.
I slow my bike and circle towards the warehouse lot where everyone gathers afterward. The Ducati rider is already there, watching me as I pull in which causes my skin to prickle with goosebumps.
I park beside the others and pull off my helmet, shaking out my long blonde hair.
Sweat cools against the back of my neck while I head towards Andrew, collecting tonight’s cash. Reid always pays us extra when races are rigged.
