Page 3

I won the race. No biggie.

Okay, that’s just me trying to be modest. It was a big deal. I fucking won a race against Pavel Nikolai, a.k.a. “The Phantom Rider.” Every street racer in Chicago knew who he was—the legend whose reputation preceded him. Rumor had it that Pavel Nikolai had never lost a race before. Never.

To think that the first time he did lose, he lost to me, a girl, was mind-blowing. How did I manage to pull that off? Yes, I was pretty damn good at what I did, but this was Pavel-fucking-Nikolai!

Jeez!

As much as I tried to mask my excitement, I knew deep down that this was a huge win even for me.

In all honesty, I had no idea who the Russians had selected to represent their crew.

And maybe that’s a good thing because if I had known the identity of my opponent, if I had known that it was the Phantom Rider, I might’ve had cold feet.

The revelation, that piece of information, might have tampered with my confidence.

However, the most important thing was that I won. I beat the Phantom Rider. It was best not to let that get in my head, though. My joy was short-lived when the thought of what awaited me at home flashed in my mind.

Da.

He would be so pissed at me for leaving the house despite his warnings. It wouldn’t be the first time we’d have such an argument anyway, but I’d yet to get used to it. It didn’t matter how many times he complained; I wasn’t going to stop racing. I couldn’t even if I wanted to.

While my mind was busy calculating the outcome of my conversation with Da once I got home, the city lights blurred past in a flash. The engine roared beneath me, my Ducati weaving through vehicles at a steady speed. Behind me, my hair whipped like a comet’s tail, the wind crashing against my visor.

I glanced at the side mirror and saw it again: the same black SUV. Not too close. Not too far. But distant enough to be deliberate. My eyes squinted, brows knitting together in suspicion.

Something was off.

That particular vehicle had been tailing me for a while, maintaining a consistent distance behind me.

As random as it appeared, I knew better than to let my guard down.

I’d just won a race against a legend who’d never lost before, and to make matters worse, he was working for the Russians. They didn’t like to lose.

How sure was I that my victory hadn’t pissed off some really powerful people who’d lost money because I won the race?

Shit. That can’t be good.

But then again, it might just be my mind playing tricks on me. Racing always had a comedown, and tonight was even harder than most. I’d pushed myself beyond my limit, so perhaps it was just my nerves howling in the aftermath.

Regardless, I didn’t head straight home—couldn’t risk it. No.

I made a sharp left turn at a light that should have been a right.

I circled the block and took more unnecessary turns just to ensure I wasn’t being followed by that sleek black SUV.

I even stopped at an old gas station and pretended to smoke, my senses on high alert.

After a short while, I took off again, glancing back at the rearview.

Still, the vehicle followed, tailing me at a distance.

My jaw clenched, and I accelerated onward, determined to ditch the car. I knew these streets like the back of my hand, was familiar with every dead end and every hidden shortcut, every nook and cranny. Losing that vehicle shouldn’t be such a big deal.

I gunned the engine and turned sharply down a narrow street, tires skimming gravel. The car tried to follow—hesitated—then vanished from my mirror.

Good.

But my heart didn’t slow down.

Who was that, and why were they following me?

Russians. Maybe it was the Russians. They lost the race, and now they’re pissed. It had to be it. I wasn’t tripping.

Or was I?

I heaved a sigh, revved the engine, and headed back home. Throughout the ride, I was constantly checking the side mirror for signs of the black SUV. However, I couldn’t catch even a glimpse of it. Maybe I’d ditched it, or maybe it was never following me to begin with.

The giant barred gates of the grand estate parted with a deep groan, and my bike rolled into the vast compound.

Gravel crunched beneath my tires as I paddled down the unwinding road, flanked by towering trees on both sides.

Shafts of moonlight filtered through the dense canopy, the cool air tinged with the scent of pine and fresh flowers.

I rolled around the final bend, and the trees parted, revealing the mansion looming just ahead.

The grand building rose from the ground like a memory, with its ivy-draped stone facade, tall arched windows, and turrets that appeared to pierce the night sky.

I parked the bike at the southeast corner of the compound, killed the engine, and removed my helmet.

I combed my hair back and rubbed my tired eyes, steeling myself for what awaited me inside.

The only way I’d escape being scolded tonight was if, for some reason, my father hadn’t noticed my absence. But that was highly debatable.

I hopped off my bike and headed up the wide marble steps that led to the double oak doors at the entrance. After a moment of hesitation, I slowly pushed the door open and snuck my way in.

It was dark in the foyer, which was weird. Something was up. Before my brain could process what was going on, my eyes squinted, adjusting to the sudden brightness that enveloped the space. The lights revealed my father standing across from me, hands behind his back, eyes locked on me.

My heart stopped for a moment, and I lowered my face, sensing that usual disappointment oozing from him.

He was silent with a flat expression, but I could tell that he was pissed.

Again. His shoes clicked against the polished marble floor as he approached me, footsteps slow and deliberate. Menacing, too.

I stood there, cold but unapologetic, even though I could hear the sound of my own heart hammering in my chest. My head was still bowed, my pulse quickening with each step he took closer to me. I knew I was in for it tonight, and I steeled myself, ready for whatever would happen next.

He halted in front of me, his cologne invading my nostrils, his silence amplifying my worries. He hesitated, as if feeding on my anxiety, before finally breaking the silence. “Ye went racing with those scoundrels again, didn’t ye?” he asked, his voice calm but laced with disdain.

I swallowed hard, my gaze still dropped to the floor.

“You don’t listen, Ayla. That’s your problem,” he continued, his husky voice sending tremors down my core. “I’ve told you countless times that I do not want you mingling with those idiots. They have no future; you do.”

His words cut deep like a knife, and I raised my head to meet his face, a faint frown flashing across my features. He’d insulted all my friends and those I considered family.

“Lemme guess, law is my future,” I said, my voice as calm as his, my tone laced with the same level of disdain.

His brows furrowed, forming creases between them. “It is your future, child.”

“You see, that right there is the problem,” I shot back, raising my voice a little above normal. “You still see me as a child, but I am not.”

“Then stop acting like one!” he thundered, fury shimmering in his eyes.

I flinched at the sudden outburst, but I wasn’t going to accept defeat.

“Choosing my own path and destiny is childish. Is that what you’re saying?” I asked, calmer, with raised brows.

He clenched his jaw, chest rising and falling in silence.

“Law is what you chose for me—a decision you made without my consent. Whenever I’m in one of those long, boring classes, I feel so suffocated—like I’m in prison.

” I paused for a while, letting my words sink in.

“But out there in the streets, when racing…that’s the only time I feel free—alive and happy. ”

He was quiet for a second. “Now, listen to me, and listen real good.” Father drew nearer, closing the distance between us.

“I will not have you tainting the family name by mingling with those scoundrels. Do you understand? Especially not now that there’s a rising tension between us and the Russians. ”

“The family name,” I muttered, a soft scoff escaping my lips. “That’s all you ever care about.” I looked him dead in the eyes and added, “You would rather subject your daughter to a life of misery just to maintain your reputation and uphold your legacy .”

With that, I left him standing there, my footsteps pounding against the stairs as I headed up to my room. Once inside, I slammed my door shut behind me in frustration, raging at my father’s selfishness. I tossed my jacket onto the nearest chair and began peeling off the rest of my gear.

My muscles ached, as did my joints and my head.

I was still mad at my father for treating me like a child, but the mere thought of my victory tonight prompted a small smile on my face.

Out of habit, I headed toward the window to shut the blinds, but I realized it was already open.

I paused, wondering how I forgot to close it before heading out earlier.

A gentle breeze howled in, brushing against my skin and carrying with it the faint scent of jasmine and lilies.

As I reached out to close the windows, my eyes narrowed slightly at the sight of a black vehicle parked across the road.

My room was located on the side of the building that faced the back street, which was not visible to the house guards.

I watched the car for a while, my eyes studying the environment, searching for any signs of suspicious movements. There was none. The street was quiet and deserted; however, the distant barks of a dog wafted through the air.

The car looked a lot like the same black SUV that I thought was following me earlier. My stomach turned, and my heart skipped a bit.

Dad’s voice echoed in my head: “…especially now that there’s a rising tension between us and the Russians.”

I felt the leftover paranoia awakening inside me, but I wouldn’t let it take over. No. It was probably just someone from the neighborhood. A lost stranger, maybe. In any case, I closed the windows immediately and shut the blinds.