Chapter Eighteen: Carlotta's POV
1255 Words
I twisted my throttle and shot through a narrow gap between two abandoned police cars, their flashing lights painting the street in red and blue streaks. The sound of sirens was everywhere now, echoing off the buildings like a mechanical storm.
"Come on, baby," I whispered to my bike as I leaned into a sharp turn. "Keep it together just a little longer."
Behind me, I could see the wreckage of at least three motorcycles scattered across the asphalt, their riders nowhere to be seen. Smart move - better to abandon your bike and run than get arrested for illegal street racing.
"Where is everyone?" I called out to no one, my voice lost in the wind and engine noise. "Am I ahead or behind?"
Wish I had someone watching my back right now, I thought as I swerved around another piece of debris. Someone to tell me what's happening, where the other riders are.
I'd noticed during the race how the other riders had crew members talking to them through their helmets, giving them updates and strategy advice. Gabriel had his people, Paxton had his mechanic friend, but I was completely alone out here.
"Note to self," I said aloud as I downshifted for another turn. "If I keep doing this crazy racing thing, I need to get myself a team."
If I keep doing this? The thought surprised me. Am I already planning to do this again?
"But then again," I continued talking to myself, "hard to get a team when you're racing as 'Anonymous.' Kind of defeats the purpose."
The anonymity had seemed like a good idea when I registered, but now I was starting to see the disadvantages. No crew, no backup, no one even knowing who I was if something went wrong.
I pushed the bike harder, hoping to catch up with whoever was still in the race ahead of me. The streets were mostly empty now except for the occasional police car, their occupants too busy chasing other racers to notice one more motorcycle in the chaos.
That's when I heard them behind me - the distinctive roar of two powerful engines, getting closer fast. I checked my mirrors and my heart skipped a beat.
"No way," I breathed, recognizing the sleek lines of the motorcycles pursuing me.
It was them. Gabriel and Paxton, locked in their epic rivalry, bearing down on me like twin storms. But something was wrong with the way they were riding - they were too close together, their bikes almost touching.
"What are they doing?" I wondered aloud, glancing back again. "Are they racing or fighting?"
As they got closer, I could see that they were actually gripping each other's jackets, their motorcycles bound together in some kind of insane death pact. They looked like they were trying to kill each other.
"Are you two completely insane?" I shouted back at them, though they couldn't hear me.
That's when it hit me - I was looking at familiar landmarks. The warehouses, the industrial buildings, even the makeshift starting line in the distance with its circle of spectator cars.
"Oh my god," I whispered. "I'm back at the beginning."
The race track is a loop. And I've completed it.
The realization sent a shock of adrenaline through my system. I hadn't just survived the race - I'd actually navigated the entire course and was approaching the finish line. The same spot where we'd started was now the end point.
"And those two idiots behind me want it just as badly as I do," I said, looking back at Gabriel and Paxton's bizarre tandem approach.
They want to win. They need to win. But so do I.
"Papa," I said softly, my father's memory giving me strength. "I'm going to prove that I belong here. That I can win."
Not just for him. For me. To prove to myself that I'm more than what everyone thinks I am.
I could hear Gabriel and Paxton's engines getting louder, their superior machines closing the gap with frightening speed. My father's old Yamaha was running perfectly, but it was still older technology compared to their high-end racing bikes.
"Come on!" I urged my bike forward. "We've come this far! We can't give up now!"
The finish line was visible in the distance, marked by the same circle of cars and spectators who had watched us start. I could even see Tommy the commentator with his microphone, probably wondering where all the racers had gone.
"They've got better bikes!" I called out over the engine noise. "Their engines are worth more than everything I own!"
But that doesn't mean they're better riders.
Gabriel's Kawasaki and Paxton's Ducati were definitely faster than my Yamaha, with modifications that probably cost more than my mother made in a year. But speed wasn't everything - Papa had taught me that.
"It's not always about having the best equipment," I remembered him saying during one of those afternoons when I'd hidden in his garage. "Sometimes it's about knowing how to use what you've got."
Suddenly, Tommy's voice boomed across the area through his sound system, loud enough to be heard even over our approaching engines.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" he announced. "We have a surprise development! Our anonymous rider is approaching the finish line!"
"What?" I could hear confused murmurs from the crowd even at this distance.
"That's right!" Tommy continued with growing excitement. "The mystery rider who stalled at the start line is now leading the race!"
Leading? I'm actually leading?
"This is unprecedented!" Tommy's voice was getting more animated. "An unknown rider on a vintage bike is about to upset the entire underground racing establishment!"
"Gabriel Blackwood and Paxton Wolfe are closing fast!" Tommy announced. "But the anonymous rider has the lead!"
They're calling me the underdog. The shock winner.
I could feel my heart pounding with a mixture of terror and exhilaration. I was actually going to do this. I was going to win.
"But wait!" Tommy's voice rose to fever pitch. "What's happening with Blackwood and Wolfe? They appear to be locked together!"
I glanced back and saw that Gabriel and Paxton were still gripping each other, their rivalry having turned into something dangerous and self-destructive.
They're so focused on beating each other that they're going to lose to me.
"The finish line is fifty meters away!" Tommy announced. "This is going to be the closest finish in underground racing history!"
I could hear Gabriel and Paxton's engines roaring behind me, but I had one advantage they didn't know about. Hidden in my father's old toolkit, wrapped in an oily rag, I'd found a small bottle labeled "Emergency Only" - some kind of engine boost he'd saved for special occasions.
Now or never, Papa.
I reached into my jacket and pulled out the small bottle, biting off the cap and pouring the contents into my bike's air intake. The effect was immediate - my engine roared with newfound power, the bike surging forward like it had been shot from a cannon.
"Holy s**t!" I screamed as the sudden acceleration pressed me back against the seat.
"And anonymous has found another gear!" Tommy's voice was almost hysterical with excitement. "She's pulling away from the field!"
The finish line rushed toward me, and for the first time in years, I felt truly alive. I was winning, I was proving myself, and I was doing it on my own terms.
"I did it, Papa!" I shouted as I crossed the line. "I actually did it!"
- Writer
