Page 60 of Broken Breath (Rogue Riders Duet #1)

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Alaina

Get your shit together, Alaina.

I should think about the trail right now as I tear down the mountain, tires carving through the mud-slick trail, the roar of wind in my ears louder than the chaos still echoing in my chest.

Not the kisses.

Not Luc.

Not Finn walking away.

Because none of it matters right now, when the roots are this slick, the rocks this sharp, and the line between glory and a hospital bed this narrow.

The morning downpour may have stopped, but it left the track glistening with threat, and every turn is a risk. I can’t afford a single mistake.

It’s only qualifying, but I’m riding like everything is on the line.

I learned that every ride counts the hard way.

My breath rasps in and out as I rip through the midsection, letting the bike float and buck beneath me like it’s got a mind of its own. My lungs burn, my hips scream, every muscle is tight with focus, but I don’t back off. Instead, I push even harder.

I’m not allowed to fall apart because if I let myself think about last night, I’ll lose control.

Of the bike or myself.

So I shut it all down into some corner of my mind, I’ll deal with later. I lock the pain behind my teeth, tuck the memory of Luc’s lips and Finn’s absence deep beneath my ribs, and keep my eyes locked on the trail ahead.

The final berm comes fast, but I don’t brake. I lean in, ride the edge, trusting my balance, my instincts, my need to hold this together for just a few more seconds.

Then I’m out of it, barreling down the last straight, with tires humming over packed mud, the finish line dead ahead before I cross it clean.

As I coast toward the shutdown area, my lungs heave like I’ve outrun something more dangerous than just the clock. I glance toward the timing board with my heart pounding in my ears.

Top of the list.

Faster than Finn and Mason. Hell, faster than anyone. It should feel like a victory, and maybe it does, a little . Because no matter how shattered I feel inside, no matter what happens off the bike, this part still belongs to me.

I stop next to Mason, who’s still straddling his bike. My breaths come in sharp gasps as I pull off my helmet, letting the cool air hit my sweat-dampened face.

The pressure in my chest eases a fraction, and I’m glad I forwent the chest guard again today. It’s only qualifying, and I needed the space to feel the air actually flow into my lungs.

Mason’s gaze is fixed on the board, his expression unreadable. Around us, the other riders linger, probably calculating tomorrow’s starting order. Only Luc and Raine are left on top.

I roll my shoulders, trying to shake off the tension. The real test comes tomorrow, and if today is any indication, it will be a hell of a ride.

Mason’s helmet is dangling from his handlebars as he bumps my shoulder lightly with his.

“Well done, Bambi,” he says, the faintest curve of a smile playing at his mouth.

My heart does a little flip. I love it when he calls me that.

I smirk, pushing sweaty hair out of my face. “It’s only qualifying.”

“Mm-hmm.” Mason shrugs. “But you’re in the flow lately.”

I lift a brow, fighting a grin. “I know.”

He laughs a real laugh, and the sound blooms warmth through my chest. Mason doesn’t laugh often, but when he does, it’s kind of stupid how much I want to hear it again.

“So humble too,” he teases, shaking his head.

I nudge him back with my shoulder. “Hey, I’m just confident, that’s different.”

He’s still smiling when a ripple of noise runs through the people gathered around, and we both turn toward the track as Raine barrels into view, crossing the line. I glance up at the board.

Yep, I’m still first.

Fuck you, Raine.

“Who would’ve thought after your little late-night adventure yesterday?” Mason side eyes me.

Did he see us leave?

I grimace as guilt swarms my stomach, thinking about the disaster that was last night.

A disaster wrapped around the best damn kiss I’ve ever had .

Not that there were others to compare it to, besides Finn’s mistake kisses. But Luc wanted to kiss me, really wanted to. That made a difference, even though he didn’t really know who he was kissing.

God.

“Sorry.” I cringe, turning toward him. “I should’ve asked if you wanted to come.”

“Fuck no.” Mason laughs again. “Nobody would’ve wanted that. Me the least.”

“You’re not into clubbing?”

“Not even a little.” His mouth quirks. “But next time we’re in England or Scotland, I’ll take you to a proper pub.”

I grin, feeling lighter from the easy conversation. “Deal?”

He tips his chin at me. “Deal.”

Someone taps my shoulder, and I turn, finding Finn standing behind me, his red jersey splattered with mud just like Mason’s and mine are.

So much for feeling lighter.

“Can we…” He shoves his hands into his pockets, shifting his weight, “… talk for a second?”

I frown, taking him in. He looks tired, defeated, and so young, like the Finn who used to sit next to me at the bottom of the pits after bad runs, kicking dirt over my shoes until I smiled, but this is not the same Finn anymore.

That Finn would not have called me a mistake, no matter what I did, and maybe it’s petty, maybe it’s selfish, but I’m done being the first one to bend.

I lift my chin. “I’m having a conversation right now.”

Mason glances between the two of us, eyebrows lifting. “Well, I could?—”

“No.” I cut him off before he could even finish his offer.

Mason’s eyes search mine for a moment, then he nods, shifting his weight back onto his bike .

“Yeah,” he says to Finn. “We’re talking.”

Finn’s mouth hardens into a line. “I can wait.”

People stir again, and our attention automatically turns toward the screen as Luc comes down the final section. We all watch as he barrels into the finish, a pink blur of speed and mud, but even he doesn’t touch my time.

What the fuck?

Mason lets out a low whistle. “Holy shit, you’re in a flow for real. Beating Delacroix on his home turf?”

I can’t help the way my smile spreads, lighting up my whole damn face.

Confidence. The real kind. The kind that doesn’t have anything to do with spite, vengeance, or proving somebody wrong.

Luc rolls over to us, dirt streaked and grinning widely as he yanks off his helmet, sweat darkening his curls.

Like the rain did last night when he kissed me silly.

Heat blooms beneath my cheeks.

Fuck.

“Look who’s challenging me on my own track . ” He laughs brokenly, still panting. “But it’s fine. I was just warming up for tomorrow.”

I laugh, too, shaking my head. “You talk a lot for someone who finishes behind me.”

“To finish first, you have to finish first.” Luc smirks like he just dropped wisdom.

“That’s so not the phrase.” I chuckle at how he’s butchered it.

“ It is now .” Luc’s gaze flicks sideways, clocking Finn, then Mason standing on my other side. His smile dims when his eyes lock onto Finn. “Like I said, I can’t leave you alone for a minute or you get harassed.”

He says it lightly, but the implication lands, and Finn’s jaw ticks .

Luc tilts his head, a shitty little smile painted across his face. “What’s wrong, Greer. Didn’t like the view yesterday?”

Ah, shit.

Finn’s eyes flash. “I’ve fucking had it with you, Delacroix .”

Luc chuckles, but there’s a dangerous edge to it. He rolls his shoulders and then leans across the handlebars. “I’ve had it with you, too, Papi .”

Finn steps into his space, his chest brushing Luc’s, but he doesn’t budge an inch.

“Why don’t you crawl back to your fucking retirement home?” Luc snaps.

Finn huffs. “You’re all flash, no substance. Fake as fuck, and everyone sees it. Nobody even likes you.”

Luc’s lips curl into something feral. “Funny. Petit Crews seems to like me just fine.”

They’re not even trying to keep their voices down, and every racer still in the finish area is staring as well as some officials.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Stop,” I bite out. “We’re at fucking qualifying. Are you two crazy?”

Neither moves nor even blinks at my words. It’s like I’m not even here.

They’re almost nose to nose, their gazes locked in matching death glares, muscles tensed like they are ready to drop gloves right here in the finish area.

Because of me.

If they fight, it’s on me. If they get disqualified, suspended, and if they hate each other from now on, it’s my fault. I’m the reason they’re close to ruining everything.

My chest clamps tight, the noise around me fades to static, the edges of my vision blur, and my hands start to shake.

Shit.

I try to drag in a breath, pressing my palm to my sternum. Just one would help, but it won’t come. It won’t fit . I can’t breathe.

I can’t breathe .

A hand taps gently on my shoulder, making me flinch, but when I look up, Mason’s face is calm. He tips his head toward the tree line at the edge of the finish area in a silent offer.

I nod shakily and follow him as he pushes off. We cycle slowly toward the trees, weaving away from the other racers, each pedal matching my choppy, labored breaths.

As soon as we’re swallowed by green, Mason pulls to the side, getting off his bike and motioning for me to do the same. I ditch the bike clumsily, nearly tripping over my own feet, and stagger toward a tree, hands clawing at my chest.

I gasp, trying and fighting to get air in, but it’s useless. My lungs won’t expand, and my ribs feel locked, welded tight. Panic scrapes up my throat.

This isn’t what I came here for. This is all wrong.

I came here to destroy Raine, to finish what I started, to make him pay, for me, for Dane, for everything .

I’d just been riding the high of my run but lost it just as quickly.

I’m not here to fall for them. For guys who’ll turn their backs on me once the truth comes out, and not to see people I once admired, respected, and thought I loved, look at me like I’m their greatest fuckup. I was supposed to keep my distance, keep my heart locked up.

I’m not here to lose focus.

Not here to blur the lines until I don’t even recognize the girl who walked into this season with her fists clenched and her jaw set.