FELIX’S POV
The following week came quicker than I’d liked and when the morning of the race reached, I felt more nervous than usual.
We’d been at the track since before sunrise, going over the bikes one last time. The air smelled like gasoline, hot asphalt, and the faint metallic bite of nerves. Hellbound colors were everywhere — black and red cuts, our patch staring out from every vest. Across the lot, the Fallen Saints had claimed their own stretch of pavement, their jackets a duller black with that jagged silver insignia that always put my teeth on edge.
I tightened the strap on my glove and glanced sideways at Lucian. He’d been quieter than normal all morning. We all had, ever since Malek’s little visit. The usual pre-race energy was low.
“She said no,” Lucian had told us the night
