Chapter 75: ZANE's POV
The racing club was more than just a club.
It was a cathedral I'd built for speed and sin, carved out of an abandoned subway station three levels below Chicago, deep enough that cops never came sniffing around and the sound never reached anyone who might actually give a s**t.
I bought the property eleven years ago through a shell company—back when I was twenty-two and stupid enough to think racing could fix everything broken inside me. Spent millions retrofitting the tunnels and somehow turned it into this thing that existed somewhere between legal and lethal.
The main floor was the track—a quarter-mile circuit looping through old subway tunnels, tight corners, and straightaways that separated the guys who actually knew how to drive from the rich audience who tho
