Vaughn's POV
The thrill of the match surged through my veins like liquid fire. Adrenaline sharpened every sense as I leaned low over the bike, the engine's ferocious roar vibrating through my bones. My focus narrowed to a razor's edge on the finish line ahead.
The finish line was less than three hundred metres away.
The roar of both engines drowned out everything else. Wind clawed at my shirt, snapping the loose fabric violently against my body as the coastal road blurred beneath the tyres. The floodlights ahead stretched into streaks of white, and the cheers waiting at the finish line were already beginning to carry across the night.
Matteo was good, damn good. I acknowledged it grudgingly in the back of my mind. Maybe he would have won if not for that damn bet.
Most people crumbled
