Chapter Seventeen: Gabriel's POV
1298 Words
I stared in disbelief as Paxton pulled us both forward, his grip on my jacket like a death trap as we hurtled toward what looked like certain doom. The concrete building ahead grew larger with each passing second, and my heart was hammering against my ribs like it was trying to escape.
"Gabriel!" Rico's voice crackled through my headset, panic evident in every word. "Boss, you're heading straight for a building! You need to break away now!"
"I can see that, you i***t!" I screamed back into my comm. "You think I'm blind?"
"Then why aren't you letting go?" Danny's voice joined in, shrill with fear. "You're going to kill yourself!"
"Shut up!" I roared. "All of you, just shut up and let me handle this!"
This maniac is going to get us both killed, I thought, watching Paxton's face through his helmet visor. There was something terrifying about how calm he looked, how focused.
Without thinking, I reached up and ripped off my helmet, throwing it aside as we continued racing toward the building. The wind hit my face like a slap, but I needed to see clearly, needed to think without the confined feeling of the helmet.
"What are you doing?" Rico's voice was now coming from my discarded headset, barely audible over the engine noise and wind.
I ignored him and lunged at Paxton, grabbing at his helmet with my free hand while still maintaining my death grip on his jacket with the other.
"Are you insane?" I shouted over the roar of our engines. "Let go before we both die!"
Paxton didn't flinch. He didn't even try to stop me as I clawed at his helmet, finally managing to knock it off his head. It went flying behind us, tumbling across the asphalt like a discarded shell.
Why isn't he fighting back? Terror crept up my spine as I saw Paxton's face clearly for the first time.
He was smirking. Actually smirking as we raced toward what would be our graves. His sandy hair whipped in the wind, and his blue eyes were completely calm, like we were out for a casual Sunday ride instead of playing chicken with death.
"What the hell are you doing?" I screamed at him, my voice cracking with panic. "Can't you see you're pushing us toward our death?"
"I'm not pushing us anywhere," Paxton replied, his voice eerily calm despite the chaos around us. "We're doing this together, Gabriel. Two riders, one destination."
"You're out of your mind!" I yelled back. "This isn't a game anymore!"
"It never was a game," Paxton said, his smirk widening slightly. "Tell me something, Gabriel. Do you know about the birds that fight with their claws attached to each other while they plummet to the ground?"
"What?" I stared at him in confusion. Is he seriously talking about birds right now?
"Birds of prey," Paxton continued, as if we weren't seconds away from becoming pancakes on concrete. "Hawks, eagles. When two males fight over territory, sometimes they lock talons in mid-air."
"What does that matter?" I demanded, my voice getting higher with desperation. "What does any of that have to do with this race?"
"They fall together," Paxton went on, ignoring my question. "Spinning, plummeting toward the earth with their claws locked together. It's about dominance, about proving who's stronger."
"You're insane!" I screamed. "Completely insane!"
"They fight for territory," Paxton said, his eyes never leaving mine. "For hunting grounds, for nesting sites. For their mates."
He's lost it. He's completely lost his mind.
"Sometimes they break apart just before impact," Paxton continued. "Sometimes they don't. Sometimes they choose death over defeat."
"I don't care about your stupid bird story!" I yelled, struggling against his grip. "Let go of me!"
"Are you afraid, Gabriel?" Paxton asked, his voice cutting through the wind and engine noise like a knife.
The question hit me like a physical blow. "What?"
"I asked if you're afraid," Paxton repeated, leaning closer so I could hear him clearly. "Because you sound afraid."
"I'm not afraid of anything!" I snapped back, though my voice betrayed me with its tremor.
"Then why are you trying so hard to get away?" Paxton asked with that same infuriating smirk. "If you're not afraid, why not see this through to the end?"
"Because I'm not suicidal!" I screamed.
"Neither am I," Paxton said calmly. "I'm just committed to finishing what we started."
The building was getting closer now, its concrete facade filling more and more of my vision. I could make out individual windows, architectural details that would be the last things I ever saw.
This is really happening. We're really going to die.
"You know what the funny thing is?" Paxton asked, still maintaining that terrifying calm.
"What?" I gasped.
"Even if you show fear now, even if you break and let go, it won't matter," Paxton said. "You'll still lose."
"What do you mean it won't matter?" I demanded.
"Because everyone will know," Paxton explained. "Everyone will know that when it came down to life or death, when it really mattered, Gabriel Blackwood chose to live rather than win."
"That's not losing!" I protested. "That's being smart!"
"Is it?" Paxton asked. "Or is it just being weak?"
I struggled against his grip, trying to break free, but our bikes were still locked together in their deadly dance. We were like those birds he'd talked about, falling toward our doom with no way to separate.
"Let me go!" I shouted, panic overwhelming my pride. "Just let me go!"
"Why should I let you go when you won't let go of me?" Paxton pointed out reasonably.
He was right. My hand was still gripping his jacket just as tightly as his was gripping mine. I was holding us together just as much as he was.
"Because this is crazy!" I yelled. "Because we don't have to die for a stupid race!"
"No," Paxton agreed. "We don't have to die for a race. But we might die for something bigger than a race."
"Like what?"
"Like proving who we really are when everything else gets stripped away," Paxton said. "When there's nothing left but pure will and determination."
He's insane. Completely, totally insane. But even as I thought it, part of me understood what he meant.
"So what's it going to be, Gabriel?" Paxton asked as the building loomed closer. "Are you going to show everyone what you're really made of?"
"I'm not afraid!" I declared, though my entire body was shaking.
"Then prove it," Paxton challenged.
"I will!" I shot back. "I'll prove it right now!"
But even as I said the words, I could feel my resolve wavering. The building was so close now, so massive and solid and final.
Maybe I should let go. Maybe living is more important than winning.
That's when I saw it - a blur of movement in my peripheral vision. Another motorcycle, coming up fast behind us, gaining ground with incredible speed.
"What the hell?" I muttered, turning my head to get a better look.
A bike was approaching rapidly from behind, its rider hunched low over the handlebars. The machine was moving faster than seemed possible, closing the distance between us with frightening determination.
"Paxton!" I yelled. "There's someone behind us!"
Paxton turned his head to look, and for the first time since this insane game of chicken had started, his expression changed from calm certainty to surprise.
"Who the hell is that?" he demanded.
The mysterious rider was almost on us now, their bike screaming past us with a roar that momentarily drowned out even our own engines. I caught a glimpse of blue and black racing leathers, a determined posture that looked somehow familiar.
"They're going to pass us!" I shouted in amazement.
- Writer
