Lila's POV
The old quarry track hadn't seen a crowd like this in years, maybe ever. By the time I rolled up, the whole lot was already packed wall to wall with bikes, colors from clubs I recognized and plenty I didn't, guys in leather vests repping crews from three counties over, all crammed shoulder to shoulder along makeshift barricades somebody had strung up overnight. Somebody'd rigged a PA system on a flatbed truck, speakers crackling with pre-race hype music, a couple of guys selling grilled food out of coolers like this was a damn county fair instead of a grudge match thirteen years in the making.
Word travels fast in this world, and apparently everybody who mattered had heard exactly what today actually was. Not just a race. A coronation. Whoever crossed that finish line first wa
