Page 114 of Blood & Throttle

Their wheels stutter. One coughs. The other screams.

Both vanish into the fog.

Their HUDs cut out a second later.

Sin glances back, just once. “Think they’ll still be talking shit in hell?”

“If they even make it that far.”

The tunnel vibrates beneath us. A trap’s priming—old gears winding, steel flexing.

“Spike trap,” she barks. “Floor.”

I jolt the bars hard.

Behind us, a rider hits the center panel.

Metal spears explode upward, catching the front tire. The bike flips and launches its riders into the low-hanging piping. One’s head caves in on impact. The other just hangs there, impaled through the gut, twitching.

We ride through their blood like it’s just part of the road.

Because it is.

More bullets slice the air behind us—sharp cracks splitting the roar of engines.

Tandem riders with mounted SMGs—submachine guns, compact but vicious, built for close-quarters carnage—are gaining fast. Back-to-back on sleek bikes, their frames stripped down and modded with silencers and low-gravity stabilizers that let them corner like demons.

“They’re hugging the wall,” Sin snaps. “I’ve got ‘em.”

She flips open the under seat panel, fingers flying.

HUD flashes: FLASH MOD DEPLOYED.

The flare launches, blinding blue light erupting down the corridor. One of the bikes veers, clips a protruding pipe, andexplodes. Fire rolls across the tunnel, the blast painting the walls in flame.

Sin grins. “That’s one way to light the path.”

“Don’t get cocky.”

“Never,” she says sweetly. “Just competent.”

I grunt. The tunnel curves hard right—too sharp for speed. I slam the brake and pivot into a slide, dragging the rear tire into a controlled drift. Sparks fly as we skid inches from the edge.

Sin’s body moves with mine, every shift in sync. One machine. One will.

She’s not just holding on.

She’s riding.

HUD flickers again. MOTION DETECTED: 10m ABOVE.

“Ceiling,” I warn.

Her helmet tilts. A second later…“It’s a drop trap. Hinged plate. Ready to fall.”

“I see it.”

We time it perfectly, blades whoosh down behind us like giant scissors and we slide just under the edge. Another rider isn’t so lucky. The trap cleaves his front wheel and sends him into a tailspin. His partner flies off the back, and smashes into the wall. Skull first.