Chapter 6
1106 Words
Zephyrine crossed her arms. She looked at Cassian like he was crazy.
“I don't teach and we both know you can't keep up with me,” she said with a mean smile.
Cassian did not care. He took a slow drink of his coffee and smiled. “Oh, I know I can't keep up with you, yet. That’s why I need you to teach me, Zeph. Pay attention.”
“Don't call me Zeph. We are not that close,” she said, leaning forward. “And I’m a racer, not a babysitter. You think you can handle my style of driving?
“Try me,” Cassian said. His smile turned into a challenge. “I learn very fast. Besides, if you say no, that just means I won't go to the symposium.
Cassian smirked “And guess what, I'm perfectly fine with that. I don't know about you though.”
“Why don't I kick that smirk off your face instead?” Zephyrine resorted.
Cassian burst into laughter but Zephyrine didn't think it was funny. She really wanted to kick him in the face.
Unfortunately, he had the upper hand. She had no choice but to agree with his terms.
She looked at Gideon for help, but he was pretending to read some papers at his desk, ignoring them completely.
“Fine. I’ll do it,” Zephyrine said, her voice turning cold. “But only if we do things my way first. I need to test your skills. Tonight. Deal?”
Cassian’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Deal. Tell me when and where.”
“I’ll text you,” Zephyrine said.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Gideon, who had been ignoring them, suddenly cut in.
“Zephyrine, no dangerous races okay? Legally speaking, I'm responsible for both of you and I forbid you from participating in any dangerous racing.”
“Don't worry, he's in safe hands. Zephyrine assured Gideon who had on a worried expression.
She grabbed her backpack, gave Gideon a quick nod, and walked out of the office.
Once she was inside her car, she took out her phone. She looked through her contacts until she found a name she hadn't called in a very long time.
Mitch.
She called him and started driving away from the building. The phone rang three times before a rough voice resounded in the car.
She had worked with Mitch for a year when she first started her career. He was actually the one who taught her how to race properly. But Mitch was always in trouble with the police, and he spent way too much time gambling away his money at the casino.
Since Zephyrine had always wanted to be more than a street racer, she had to leave his circle before he dragged her down with him.
“Zeph? Wow. I thought you forgot about us once you got rich.”
“I need a favor, Mitch,” Zephyrine said quickly.
“Do you have a race happening tonight?”
“Always,” Mitch chuckled. “Got a midnight run happening down by the industrial docks in South Boston. The buy-in is heavy tonight, though. Heard you joined those rich kids team, why’re you interested in this?”
“Not me,” Zephyrine smiled. “I’m bringing a guy from the pro track. He is a good driver, but I want to see what he can do on the streets. Put him in the race.”
Mitch was quiet for a second. “A track racer? In a South Boston street race? The streets are different, Zeph. Are you trying to get him hurt?”
“Just give him a spot, Mitch. I’ll pay the entry fee.”
“Alright. It’s his problem. See you at midnight.”
As soon as the call disconnected, Zephyrine pulled over to the side of the road. She opened her messages and typed out the address Mitch had given her, sending it directly to Cassian.
Midnight. South Boston docks. Bring your own car. Don't be late.
Tossing her phone into the passenger seat, she hit the gas and headed toward her apartment.
Being one of the top racers in the country for years had come with a lot of perks, and one of them was her living situation.
Zephyrine lived in a high-end, ultra-modern luxury high-rise in one of Boston’s most exclusive neighborhoods.
She drove down into the private underground garage and parked her car in her usual dark spot near the concrete wall. She grabbed her bag and opened her car door.
But suddenly, a shadow moved from behind a large concrete pillar.
Before Zephyrine could even look up, a large man in a black mask rushed at her. He slammed her hard against the side of her car, knocking the breath out of her.
Zephyrine gasped, her heart hammering in fear. Since she had once lived on the streets, she knew a few self-defense tricks, but she wasn't an expert fighter.
As the man tried to grab her throat, she quickly drove the heel of her boot hard onto his foot, stomping with all her weight.
The man grunted in pain, his grip loosening. Zephyrine used the moment to ball her hand into a fist and punch him right in the nose. She felt something c***k under her knuckles.
The attacker grunted in pain. He pulled a sharp knife from his jacket and slashed it wildly through the air.
Zephyrine tried to jump back, but she wasn't fast enough. The blade ripped through her shirt and sliced across her stomach. A sharp, burning pain exploded through her body, and she stumbled backward against her car tire.
The man raised the knife to strike again, but Zephyrine didn't have time to worry about her pain. Fighting through the pain, she reached out, grabbed his wrist with both hands, and twisted it with everything she had left. She slammed his hand against the sharp edge of her open car door.
The man howled as his fingers cracked, and the knife clattered onto the concrete floor.
Bleeding and furious, the attacker realized he had lost his weapon and his advantage. He gave Zephyrine a hateful look, turned around, and ran out of the garage.
Zephyrine slumped down against her car, clutching her stomach. Warm blood was soaking through her fingers. She took a few deep breaths, checking the wound. It was a nasty, painful gash, and it hurt like hell, but it wasn't deep enough to damage her organs.
She looked at the bloody knife on the floor, then up at the empty garage.
Who had sent him?
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