Page 82 of Bitter Prince

My breathing became ragged, oxygen pushing through my throat and singeing my lungs. It was only then that I saw it. Another car approaching at a hundred and ninety miles per hour. A chill ran down my spine. I couldn’t move fast enough to get out of the way, so I did the only thing I could: brace for impact.

The next car attempted to swerve and avoid me, but at that speed, it was impossible. He rammed into me. My head bounced against the head restraint as the car spun out of control. Black spots filled my vision. I could smell the smoke and feel the heat as the flames from the back of the car ignited. Smoke began to fill the cabin, making it harder to breathe. The sounds of wailing sirens pierced the air before rushed shouts and commands echoed around me.

I was helpless as the safety crew worked to extinguish the flames and pull me from the wreckage. Careful to remove my helmet, they checked me for any injuries. Physically, I was spared from any real damage, but I’d be sore like a motherfucker for the next few days.

Once I got the all-clear, the safety team gave me a ride off the tracks so I could get back to the suite.

I got out of their transport and barely made it a step when a petite body in a blue dress with pink flowers slammed into me, forcing me to take a step back.

“Oh my gosh, Amon,” she cried, her hands skimming all over me. “Fuck, I thought—”

I slammed my mouth on hers, kissing her greedily. It was moments like these that made you appreciate what was really important. Fuck everything else. Fuck the world. I just wanted her.

“Shhh. I’m okay,” I murmured, tasting salt. Tears, I realized. I cupped her face. “Don’t cry, cinnamon girl.”

Her tears pierced my chest and hardened something in me.

I vowed right there and then that I’d never make her cry. Revenge and all else be damned.

34

REINA

Igasped as the bumper of another driver’s car hit the back of Amon’s race car, and I watched in horror as he flipped through the air.

Once. Twice. Three times.

My stomach lurched. Gasps and terrified murmurs filled the air. Fire erupted, blocking the audience from view. Everyone craned their necks with morbid fascination at the screens projecting the live events on the race track. My heart was no longer beating, unable to do anything to save him. My Amon. My bitter prince.

“There’s no way someone survives that,” I heard a spectator say.

Without thinking, for the second time today, I ran. I sprinted from our VIP area, rushing past the crowds and curious glances. One foot in front of the other, I just kept moving. Glancing around wildly, I spotted an emergency exit door and rushed toward it. Tony grabbed my elbow, saying something, but I couldn’t hear a damn word.

I elbowed him in the stomach, and as he doubled over in pain, I was through the door, on my way to Amon. Terror wrapped its invisible hand around my throat, playing the horrifying images over and over again. The way the car had flipped in the air. The way it crashed against the guardrail. Fire. Everyone’s panic as they ran to him.There’s no way someone survives that.

Truthfully, I wasn’t certain if I was going the right way, but I followed my instincts to the area I hoped would lead to the front of the track.

I found another young woman standing by the gate. “Where will the injured driver come through?” My tone was desperate. My hands were shaking. She looked startled, both by my sudden appearance and my tone, but she didn’t answer. “Please,” I begged.

It took me a moment to realize I was speaking in English. I repeated the question in French, my words trembling.

“There’s a side entrance.” She pointed off to the left. “That way. Just stay straight through the hallway, and it will veer off from that.”

“Thank you,” I said fervently before rushing to follow her instructions.

Up ahead, an emergency vehicle suddenly appeared. The pain of my burning muscles and the sound of footsteps behind me faded to nothing as I spotted him. A small crowd of people gathered around the area, watching me curiously as I barreled through them and threw myself into his arms.

For the second time today.

“Oh my gosh, Amon.” My hands roamed over his protective, tight suit. Touching him everywhere, needing assurance he wasn’t dying on me. “Fuck, I thought—”

He silenced me with a kiss as tears rolled down my cheeks.

“Shhh. I’m okay,” he murmured against my lips, and the cold fist of fear around my heart relaxed. He cupped my face, the whole universe in his eyes wrapping around me. “Don’t cry, cinnamon girl.”

“We should take you to the hospital.”

He shook his head. “I’m not injured.”