Chapter Fifteen: Paxton's POV
1169 Words
I kept glancing backward through my mirrors, dodging attempts from other riders to block my path or force me into dangerous positions. The race had turned vicious fast, with riders using every dirty trick in the book to gain even the smallest advantage.
Focus on Gabriel, I told myself, weaving around a rider who tried to cut me off. He's the only one who matters.
I'd caught a glimpse of that anonymous rider stalling at the starting line, their bike cutting out embarrassingly while the crowd laughed. For a split second, I'd almost felt bad for them, but I couldn't afford distractions. Gabriel was already pulling ahead, and every second I spent thinking about anything else was a second I wasn't gaining ground.
My comm system crackled to life, Tony's voice cutting through the engine noise and wind. "Paxton, you copy?"
"I copy," I replied, downshifting as I took a sharp corner. "What's up?"
"You're burning through your adrenaline reserves too fast, man," Tony warned. "You need to pace yourself better. Save the real aggression for the final lap."
I felt a flash of irritation at the advice. I know what I'm doing.
"Don't remind me about pacing," I shot back, my voice tight with frustration. "I'm not going to forget when to use what I've got."
"I'm just saying—"
"I know what you're saying," I interrupted, swerving to avoid a piece of debris from an earlier crash. "Look, I might not be as rich as that bastard Gabriel, but I'm smarter than he is. I know when to play my best cards instead of just hoping daddy's money will buy me a win."
There was a pause before Tony responded. "Alright, alright. I trust you. How's the field looking?"
I checked my mirrors again, counting the riders still in the race. "Gabriel's about twenty meters ahead of me. Three other riders between us, and then there's this dark horse coming up from behind—"
Before I could finish my sentence, a rider in a red helmet came screaming up on my left side, trying to ram me into the guardrail. I recognized the bike immediately - one of Gabriel's crew members, following orders to take me out of the race.
"Son of a b***h!" I snarled, yanking my handlebars hard to the right to avoid the collision.
The move forced me to slow down significantly, and I watched with growing rage as Gabriel's lead extended even further. The attacker didn't let up, staying glued to my side and trying to force me into oncoming traffic.
Not today, I thought grimly, waiting for the perfect moment.
When we hit a straight stretch, I feinted left like I was going to try to pass, then suddenly braked hard and cut right. The other rider, committed to blocking my fake move, went wide and lost control of his bike. I watched in my mirror as he wobbled, overcorrected, and went sliding across the asphalt in a shower of sparks.
"That's what you get for playing dirty," I muttered, accelerating back up to racing speed.
"What was that noise?" Tony's voice came through the comm. "Sounded like a crash."
"One of Gabriel's boys tried to take me out," I explained, weaving through slower traffic. "I returned the favor."
"Good. Speaking of which, how's that anonymous rider doing? The one who stalled at the start?"
I glanced back and was surprised to see bike number seven much closer than I'd expected. They'd made up serious ground after their disastrous start, passing several other riders with what looked like genuine skill.
"Better than I expected for someone with no affiliations," I admitted. "They're actually keeping pace pretty well."
"Interesting," Tony mused. "Any idea who it could be?"
"No clue. But we've got bigger problems right now."
"What kind of problems?"
As if on cue, the wail of police sirens echoed off the buildings around us, getting closer by the second. I could see flashing red and blue lights reflecting off windows and storefront glass.
"The kind with badges and handcuffs," I said grimly. "Cops are on our tail and closing fast."
"s**t," Tony cursed. "How close are they?"
"Close enough that we better wrap this up soon."
I looked ahead at Gabriel's bike, the gap between us frustrating me more with every passing second. He was riding his expensive Kawasaki like he owned the entire city, taking corners with the kind of confidence that only came from having the best equipment money could buy.
Time to close this gap, I decided, letting a little more adrenaline into my system.
I downshifted and twisted the throttle, feeling my Ducati respond with a surge of power that pressed me back against the seat. The speedometer climbed rapidly as I began to reel Gabriel in, but I was careful not to go all-out yet.
Save the best for last, I reminded myself. Make him think he's got this in the bag, then show him what real racing looks like.
Two more riders tried to interfere with my progress, working together to box me in between them. One pulled alongside me on the left while another closed in from behind, trying to force me into a dangerous squeeze play.
"Tony, you still watching the anonymous rider?" I asked as I prepared to deal with my new attackers.
"Yeah, still got eyes on them. Why?"
"Just keep watching. Something about that rider feels... familiar."
I couldn't put my finger on it, but there was something about the way bike number seven moved through traffic, the way they leaned into turns, that nagged at the back of my mind. It was probably nothing, but in a race like this, every detail mattered.
"Will do," Tony confirmed. "Now focus on not getting yourself arrested."
The two riders trying to box me in made their move, closing the gap between them to trap me in a dangerous sandwich. But I'd been expecting it, and I was ready.
I hit the brakes hard, letting them shoot past me, then immediately accelerated into the gap they'd left behind. Now they were the ones out of position, and I was free to continue my pursuit of Gabriel.
Chess, not checkers, I thought with satisfaction. Strategy beats brute force every time.
Gabriel was still ahead, but the gap was slowly shrinking. I could see him checking his mirrors more frequently now, probably wondering why I wasn't falling further behind despite his superior bike.
Just wait, Blackwood, I thought as I prepared for what I knew would be the most dangerous part of the race. The real show hasn't even started yet.
The police sirens were getting louder, and I could see more flashing lights joining the pursuit from different directions. They were trying to box us in, cut off our escape routes. Time was running out for all of us.
"How many laps left?" I asked Tony.
"One and a half. You better make your move soon if you're going to make it."
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