Chapter Nineteen: Carlotta's POV
1240 Words
I slid through the celebrating crowd like a ghost, keeping my helmet on and my head down. Spectators were cheering and shouting, but I couldn't afford to stop and bask in the victory. The prize money would come later - I'd read the details on the registration site about how winners collected their earnings through encrypted channels.
"Anonymous! Anonymous!" people were chanting, but I kept moving.
"Where's she going?" someone called out. "Doesn't she want to celebrate?"
"Must be the heat," another voice replied. "Smart to get out before the cops show up in force."
Speaking of cops, I thought as I heard the wail of sirens getting closer to the celebration area.
The spectators were already scattering, following the unwritten rule of underground racing - when the police arrive, everyone disappears. Cars were starting up and pulling away in different directions, their drivers knowing the importance of not getting caught at the scene.
"Time to go!" I heard someone shout over the noise. "Cops are coming!"
"Everyone scatter!" another voice yelled. "Same as always!"
I was weaving through the dispersing crowd when I heard it - the distinctive roar of a motorcycle engine right behind me, getting closer fast. My blood ran cold.
Who's following me?
I didn't dare turn around to look. The police sirens were getting louder, coming from multiple directions now, and I could see flashing lights reflecting off the warehouse windows around us.
"Move, move!" I heard police officers shouting through bullhorns. "This is an illegal gathering! Disperse immediately!"
"All vehicles stop!" another officer commanded. "Turn off your engines and put your hands where we can see them!"
Not happening, I thought, twisting my throttle and accelerating away from the chaos.
The engine behind me revved louder, and I realized whoever was following me was gaining ground. My heart was pounding against my ribs as I tried to figure out my escape route.
I can't lead them to Mama's apartment. I can't put her in danger.
The police sirens seemed to be coming from everywhere now, creating a web of sound that made it hard to tell which direction was safe. I took a hard right turn down a side street, hoping to lose my pursuer, but the engine sound stayed right with me.
"Come on," I muttered to my bike. "We've come this far. Don't fail me now."
Suddenly, the rider behind me pulled up alongside me, close enough that I could see him in my peripheral vision. My first instinct was to swerve away, but then I noticed something that made me hesitate.
He was flicking his hand in a specific gesture - a signal I recognized from watching Papa and his riding friends. It was biker code for "follow me."
Is he trying to help me?
"Follow!" the rider shouted over the engine noise, his voice muffled by his helmet but clearly audible. "This way!"
"I don't know you!" I called back, my voice disguised by my own helmet.
"Trust me or get caught!" he replied, gesturing toward the police sirens that were getting closer from behind us. "Your choice!"
I don't have much choice here.
The rider pulled ahead of me, clearly expecting me to follow. I had maybe ten seconds to decide - trust this stranger or try to outrun the police on my own through streets I didn't know well.
"Damn it," I cursed under my breath, then called out to him. "Lead the way!"
Please don't let this be a mistake.
The rider immediately took off down a narrow alley between two warehouses, moving with the confidence of someone who knew these streets well. I followed, keeping close behind as we navigated through a maze of industrial buildings and side streets.
"Sharp left!" he called back to me as we approached an intersection.
I followed his lead, leaning into the turn and feeling my bike respond perfectly. Behind us, the police sirens were getting fainter, suggesting our escape route was working.
"Right turn ahead!" he shouted. "Stay close!"
"I'm right behind you!" I replied, my confidence growing as we put more distance between us and the authorities.
We took several more turns, winding through parts of the city I'd never seen before. Abandoned lots, empty parking garages, streets that looked like they hadn't seen regular traffic in years.
He really knows his way around.
Finally, after what felt like an hour but was probably only ten minutes, he slowed down and pulled into what looked like a completely abandoned industrial area. No lights, no people, no signs of life anywhere.
"We should be safe here," he called out as we both came to a stop.
I sat on my bike for a moment, catching my breath and listening for any sound of pursuit. Nothing but silence and the ticking of cooling engines.
The rider climbed off his bike and started walking toward me, removing his helmet as he approached. That's when I saw who had helped me escape.
Paxton.
My heart started pounding for entirely different reasons now. He was walking straight toward me with that confident stride I recognized from school, his sandy hair messed up from the helmet and his blue eyes focused directly on me.
Oh god. What if he recognizes me?
I stayed on my bike, ready to take off at the first sign of trouble. Every instinct told me to flee, but I forced myself to stay put. Running now would only make me look more suspicious.
"Well," Paxton said as he got closer, his voice carrying easily in the quiet air. "That was one hell of a race."
I didn't respond, keeping my helmet on and hoping my body language looked more confident than I felt.
"You rode like someone with serious experience," he continued, stopping about ten feet away from me. "That wasn't beginner's luck back there."
Stay calm. Don't give anything away.
"So," Paxton said, crossing his arms over his chest and studying me intently. "Who are you?"
The question hung in the air like a challenge. I could feel him trying to see through my helmet visor, trying to figure out who was hiding underneath the anonymous exterior.
Think, Carlotta. Make your voice different.
I roughed up my voice, making it lower and gruffer than normal. "None of your business."
"None of my business?" Paxton repeated with a slight smile. "I just helped you escape the cops. I think that makes it a little bit my business."
"I didn't ask for your help," I replied, still maintaining the rough tone.
"No, but you took it," Paxton pointed out. "Which was smart. Those cops had you boxed in pretty good."
He's fishing for information. Don't give him anything.
"Thanks for the assist," I said, revving my engine. "But I've got places to be."
"Wait," Paxton said, taking a step closer. "We should talk. You just won your first underground race, beat some serious competition. That's not something that happens every day."
He wants to recruit me. Or figure out who I am. Either way, I need to get out of here.
"Maybe some other time," I said, gunning my engine and preparing to leave.
"At least tell me your name!" Paxton called out as I started to move.
"You already know it," I replied, pulling away. "Anonymous."
And with that, I shot out of the abandoned area, leaving Paxton standing alone beside his bike, watching me disappear into the night.
- Writer
