Frost and Flame

The underground street wasn’t a place for the weak. It was where money was gambled, blood spilled, and legends were born on two wheels. The air reeked of gasoline, smoke, and danger the kind of place cops didn’t dare step into. Tonight, the crowd was restless, their chants echoing against graffitied walls and broken neon lights. Everyone was waiting for one person. The biker queen. Felicia Fernandez. Rumor had it she never lost a race. Men twice her size swore she was a curse on wheels untouchable, unbeatable. And yet, anticipation crackled through the crowd because tonight wasn’t just any race. Tonight, Felicia was facing the Black Diver boss himself, Dylan. If anyone had the guts to snatch her crown, it was him. “Where’s my queen at?” someone hollered from the crowd, beer sloshing from their cup. “She better not lose tonight!” another voice barked. “Felicia always wins,” a girl hissed back. “You’ll see.” Back near the line, Felicia’s crew surrounded her, hyping her up. Their loyalty burned hotter than their fear, though even they couldn’t deny Dylan was dangerous. “Eight hundred million dollars on the line,” Diane muttered, pacing in front of Felicia’s bike. “Babe, we need that money. Your baby’s already rattling, and I’m tired of this old engine.” She slapped the side of the machine. “You win this, we’re getting that new ride, no excuses.” Felicia smirked as she slipped on her gloves. “Relax. I don’t lose.” Her eyes glinted beneath her helmet visor, dark and sharp. “Not to him. Not to anyone.” From the raised platform above the roaring crowd, Don Edwin stood tall, cigarette dangling from his lips. He ran this underground, every drug deal, every illegal bet, every ounce of fear on this street bent to him. And tonight, it was his whistle that would unleash the beasts. He lifted his arm, the crowd hushed, and with a sharp blow of the whistle. The race was on. Engines screamed, tires burned against asphalt, and Dylan shot forward like a predator unleashed. His bike was a monster, black and sleek, its roar drowning out even the cheers. “s**t,” Edwin cursed under his breath. “The queen better not choke.” But Felicia was no stranger to pressure. She leaned into her machine, veins pulsing with adrenaline. Dylan thought he was fast? He hadn’t seen anything yet. She pushed harder, cutting through the air with reckless grace. The crowd went wild as the two leaders tore down the street, their shadows chasing neon lights. Dylan turned his head, flashing a cocky smirk. “Fel! You think you’re always a winner? Cute. Let me show you how real bikers take charge.” Big mistake. The moment his focus shifted, Felicia seized her chance. An unknown strength surged through her veins, fire licking under her skin as if something unnatural had awakened inside her. She didn’t question it she used it. With a savage grin, she twisted the throttle and flew past him, leaving Dylan choking on dust. Gasps rippled through the crowd as the queen carved a ruthless gap between them. Dylan roared, trying to catch up, but it was useless. All eyes were on the massive TV screens lining the street. The impossible was happening Felicia wasn’t just winning. She was untouchable. “Go Fel! Go Fel!” her crew screamed, voices hoarse with pride. “She’s no damn match for anyone!” someone else shouted. And then she cut the finishing rope. The underground exploded in cheers. Drinks spilled, fists punched the air, and the chants for their queen thundered louder than engines ever could. Felicia coasted to a stop, swung her leg off the bike, and pulled off her helmet. Her dark hair tumbled loose, her smirk sharp enough to cut Dylan’s ego in half. She walked straight to Don Edwin, who was already laughing, shaking his head in disbelief. “Don’t delay my cash,” Felicia said, cool as ice, scribbling her account number on a scrap of paper. She tucked her helmet under her arm and sauntered back to her bike like she hadn’t just shredded the Black Diver boss in front of the whole city. The crowd kept chanting her name as she revved the engine and rode away. For Felicia, it wasn’t just victory. It was survival. By the time she got home, the night had grown quiet. She parked in the backyard, stretching sore muscles as the adrenaline finally faded. Her crew had already split off, their voices still ringing in her ears. Her parents wouldn’t care that it was late they were never around anyway. She slipped inside the house, careful, quiet, ready to crash into her bed. But just as she shut the door. “Stop right there. Don’t you move.” Felicia froze. Her mother stood in the hallway, arms folded, face hard as stone. The queen of the streets suddenly looked a lot less invincible. ★★★★ Felicia froze when her mother’s voice cut through the dark. The hallway light flickered to life, and there she was her grandmother, seated in her usual armchair, eyes fixed on her like a judge who had caught her red-handed. Felicia’s stomach sank. Her mom, Veronica, stepped closer, her heels clicking against the wooden floor. “This is past midnight,” Veronica said, voice sharp as a blade. “Where have you been all day? Still with your backpack on, too. Really? So while we’re away, you do what you like?” She didn’t even wait for Felicia to answer before turning toward her mother. “Mom,” she said tightly, “has Felicia been sneaking in late and you never bothered to tell me?” Grandma Joan’s lips curved into a bitter smile. Her voice was calm, but each word landed heavy. “Where are you always at, Veronica? You and your husband wanted money more than time, then why birth a child you knew you’d neglect?” The words stung more than any slap. Felicia crossed her arms, pissed at being dragged into another round of their endless blame game. “Unbelievable,” she muttered under her breath. Veronica spun back, her eyes narrowing. “I need answers, Felicia. Fast. And don’t you dare lie.” Felicia straightened her back. If there was one thing she’d learned in the streets, it was how to bluff with a straight face. “I was at Diane’s house.” Grandma coughed suddenly, a dry, skeptical sound. Felicia’s eyes flicked to her, silently begging her to let it go. “Really?” Veronica asked, suspicion sharp in her tone. “Yes,” Felicia pressed, “you can call her.” Without hesitation, Veronica pulled out her phone. Felicia’s pulse quickened as she watched her mother scroll through contacts. Then came the dial tone. It rang once. Twice. “Who’s this?” Diane’s voice came through the speaker, groggy but clear enough. “This is Felicia’s mother,” Veronica said smoothly. “I wanted to know if she was at your house.” There was a pause on the line. Felicia bit her lip hard. Then Diane, bless her reckless heart, caught on immediately. “Yes, ma’am. She was with me. We were studying for our geography test.” Her voice grew sharper, more convincing. “Felicia’s not that good at geography, so I was trying to coach her. She’s been here since after school.” Veronica’s frown softened, though not completely. “Alright, dear. Thank you. Say hello to your parents for me. Goodnight.” “Goodnight, ma’am,” Diane replied before the line clicked dead. Veronica turned to Felicia, arms folding. “Next time, try to be home on time. The streets are deadly. Don’t tempt fate.” Felicia let out a long sigh of relief, muttering, “Got it.” But Grandma Joan wasn’t done. She shook her head, voice low but biting. “You could have called Diane’s parents, not the girl.” Felicia’s patience snapped. “Grandma, please.” Her tone softened, trying to cover her frustration. “It’s past midnight you need rest, okay? Let’s not do this.” Without waiting for permission, Felicia moved to her grandmother’s side, gently taking her hand. “Come on, let me help you upstairs.” As she guided her grandmother toward her room, Felicia’s mind buzzed. Tonight had been close too close. But one thing was clear: she couldn’t keep balancing two lives forever. The streets called her queen. At home, she was just another secret waiting to explode.