Page 168 of Blood & Throttle

I nod once. “Then let’s go.”

I drop my hand to the small of her back, guiding her as we fall in step with the rest of the crew.

Ghost scans the burned skyline like he’s already trying to find the exits. “Soon as we’re squared away, I’m setting up shop,” he mutters, eyes sharp. “That hard drive’s not gonna crack itself.”

Luca groans, hauling his bag over one shoulder. “You’ve been glued to that thing for days.”

“It’s important,” Ghost fires back without missing a beat. “We don’t know what’s on it yet. Could be the key to taking the whole fucking Syndicate apart.”

Bishop grins. “You just like talking to wires, man.”

“Wires don’t lie.”

They keep talking, tension biting at the edges of their words, but it’s familiar. A rhythm. A pulse that means we’re still alive.

We’re led past a checkpoint that used to be a lobby but now just shattered tile, rusted beams, and blood-slicked floors. Cameras in every corner. Guards posted every fifteen feet. The scent of old gunpowder and rot sticks in your throat like a warning.

A man leans against a dented steel doorframe halfway down the corridor, arms crossed over a chest thick with muscle. He’s big, broad through the shoulders, the kind of size that used to mean power before the world turned power into currency. His dark hair hangs loose to his jaw, beard thick but trimmed, like he gives just enough of a shit to keep it clean but not enough to be soft. Tattoos crawl from his neck to his knuckles, bold lines and heavy ink meant to intimidate, and judging by the way he’s standing, he knows how to use the weight he carries.

His eyes are already on us.

More specifically, on her.

He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t nod. Just watches, quiet and still, like he’s tracking prey through smoke. There’s no curiosity there. No lust. Just that gleam of violence that’s harder to shake once you’ve seen it. The kind that says if it were up to him, the race would already be over and we’d be lying cold on the track with our names crossed off a bounty list.

Sin doesn’t look away. Neither do I.

But it’s me who stops first.

He doesn’t flinch when I shift direction, stepping in front of Sin like a closing gate. I don’t raise my voice. I don’t need to.

“You looking for something?” I ask, tone level but sharp enough to draw blood if he leans in too close.

The man doesn’t answer right away. His gaze flicks to me, slow and deliberate, like he’s weighing how much noise my death would make if he snapped my neck and left my body right here in the hall. Then, just barely, his jaw ticks and he shrugs.

“Nah,” he says, voice low and gravel-rough. “All good.”

I keep my stare locked on his, cataloging every detail. The way his left boot angles slightly outward. The faint shimmer of blood crusted into the cuff of his sleeve. The tension in his forearm like he’s one heartbeat from drawing whatever blade he’s hiding under that vest. He wants the bounty. He wants the blood. But he knows better than to make his move where the cameras can see.

I nod once. Not at him. At the kill I’m promising later.

Then I turn back to Sin and walk on, the heat of his stare crawling across my spine like a brand I’ll scrape off soon enough.

She doesn’t speak, but I can feel her watching me, reading the way my hand hovers near my blade and my stride turns colder with every step.

She knows I don’t just remember threats.

I fucking bury them.

The descent tobunker level three is steep and silent. Drones drift overhead. Lights flicker like they’re on their last breath. When we reach the door, it hisses open slow, like even the fucking metal knows this place wants us dead.

Inside, it’s worse. Concrete walls sweating with damp. Onenarrow bed. One rust-stained sink. A single bulb buzzing overhead like it’s got seconds left to live.

Sin steps in first. I follow, crowding her space like I always do. And I don’t care that the cameras are still watching. Let them. Because this place might be the end of the road for most, but it won’t be for us.

Not forher.

She’s mine and I’ll tear down every inch of Deadmoor, slaughter every fucking racer, and burn the Syndicate down before I let it take her.