Ryan
I stood at the edge of the pit lane, my eyes fixed on the electronic scoreboard towering above the arena. Everything we'd worked for over the last several months came down to this.
Ravenstorm MC – 184 points.
Black Vipers MC – 182 points.
Two points. That was all separating us.
The commentators were already calling it the closest championship finish in years.
The crowd loved it. I didn't.
Close races relied too much on luck. I preferred certainty.
Around me, the atmosphere buzzed with excitement. Reporters hurried from one team to another with cameras balanced on their shoulders. Sponsors gathered near the VIP section while photographers fought for the best angles.
None of it mattered. My attention remained on my riders.
They looked different. Stronger.
When training began
