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FORTY-ONE

ACCEPTANCE

CAR UNDERWATER—ARMOR FOR SLEEP

ASH

A fter days of being consumed in gloom and swirling snowflakes that left us all captive in a heavy haze, the sun finally chooses to grace us with its presence. As it begins to set, descending along the horizon, its radiant beams filter through the cracks in the closed blinds, spilling warm, golden light across the room. A bright glimmer catches my eye, forcing me to shift my gaze slightly to the left as I adjust my position on the couch. Zoning out from boredom, I glance down at the phone resting in my hand and tap on an unread message from Five.

Tourney tonight and tomorrow night. You and the boys in?

Fuck yeah. T/L?

My fingers race over the screen, a pulse of excitement quickening within me while a smile breaks through the frown that had settled at the corners of my lips. I live for these sprint tournaments. Drivers from all over come to race for twenty-four hours straight, two days in a row, with the winner on the final day receiving their car fixed to their specifications along with a grand prize of twenty thousand dollars.

The catch? Don’t get caught. And it’s far more challenging than it fucking sounds.

Instead of our usual racing route, we push out onto highways and across multiple cities within that twenty-four-hour window, but we still have to cross the finish line in our starting city before the clock runs out.

We've been competing in these tournaments for years, so twelve and the state boys are always on high alert. The minute they catch wind of any race chatter, they post up, hidden on the highways, ready to chase before we can see them. The stakes are higher with these sprints, but so are the rewards, and that makes it all worthwhile to me.

My phone vibrates again, and I tap to open the message.

Yeah, 8pm/Charlestown. Let me know who's racing ASAP so I can save you a slot.

Will do.

I toss my phone onto the cushion beside me, reach for the bong on the coffee table, and take a hit just as Killian and Dom enter through the front door. Before they can say a word, the door bursts open again, and a group of four masked men storm in, charging straight at us.

In panic, I drop the bong, the glass shattering across the floor and the pungent bong water spilling all over my clean white socks.

"What the fu-" The barrel of a gun thrust into my face silences my words, a wave of fear crashing over me. I raise my hands in surrender and scoot back further on the couch, sneaking a glance at Dom and Killian.

"Stand the fuck up," the man snaps, pressing the gun roughly against my cheek.

"What the hell is going on?" Dom yells, defiantly disregarding his assailant's command.

I comply, standing with my hands raised, desperately trying to mask my terror, my heart racing as I’m led toward Dom and Kill.

"What the fuck do you want?" Kill snarls, fists clenched at his sides, ready to strike.

"Shut up. No fucking questions," one of the masked men retorts, raising his pistol and smashing the butt of it against Kill’s head.

He crumples to his knees but swiftly wraps his arms around the assailant's legs, preparing to fight back. And then, fucking chaos erupts, absolute hell breaking loose as the seven of us begin to fight. The three of us throw punches, fighting desperately to defend ourselves against the four attackers and their weapons. We know the odds are against us, but surrendering is not an option.

We never fucking quit.

Our living room transforms into a chaotic mosh pit, each of us fighting for survival amidst the fear and fury.

"Who sent you?" I shout, managing to knock a gun from one of their grips and tackle him to the ground.

Straddling his chest, I unleash a flurry of blows to his face, seeing nothing but red. Suddenly, blinding pain surges through the back of my head, warm blood trickling down my neck. I fold over from the impact, rolling off the guy and collapsing onto the floor, clutching my head as a loud ringing pierces my ears.

Once more, they seize the upper hand, pistol-whipping and kicking us with their steel-toed boots, stripping us of any chance to fight back. Lying here, dazed and in excruciating pain, my thoughts drift to Cali and the terrifying thought that I might never see her again.

This can’t be how it ends; it just can’t.

Suddenly, through the haze of violence and confusion, a piercing scream cuts through the noise. It’s not one of us—it’s Calista.

My head snapping up, I look towards her, confused, my heart sinking as I see one of the four masked men forcing her toward the door. Panic floods my veins, and I can only hope that she's able to get away and run to save herself.

“Let her fucking go!” I shout, forcing myself onto my knees, but every ounce of my strength feels zapped away, leaving me sluggish and disoriented.

Killian groans next to me, still trying to shake off the impact to his head and the relentless blows to his body, and a frantic Dom is wrestling with one of the attackers, who has him pinned, slamming his head into the floor.

“Shut the fuck up!” the man near me barks, raising his gun again. “No one fucking told you to speak.” I see the glint of metal just before he lifts the barrel to my face, and terror flares in my chest, almost making my heart stop.

“Wait!” a voice echoes from somewhere in the room—Dom. I spot him, hunched over, covered in blood, a deep scowl etched across his face.

“You don’t need to do this. Just take what you want and get the fuck out!” he pleads, but no one is even listening.

“They’re not here for the fucking money,” I rasp, blood dripping from the gash on the back of my head onto the carpet. “They want Cali.”

Above the chaos, one of them flashes a knowing look at another masked man. It seems like he’s trying to speak with his eyes in code, but I can't allow that.

“No!” I scream, fueled by desperation. As a surge of adrenaline courses through me, I force myself to my feet, swaying slightly. "Do whatever you want to me, but leave her out of this!"

The masked man smirks, but his grip on Kill tightens. “You’re in no position to make demands,” he sneers, his eyes glinting with a sadistic pleasure that sends a chill down my spine.

Suddenly, I catch a glimpse of Dom's foot—he’s managed to pull away a nearby lamp, wielding it like a weapon. In a swift move, he swings it with all his might against one of the attackers holding Killian. The lamp shatters against his back, sending the man spiraling forward.

The moment of distraction is everything. Fueled by a mix of rage and fear, I sprint at the remaining attacker closest to me, crashing into him with my shoulder. We tumble to the ground, struggling for dominance, both of us grappling wildly. I get a hand on the gun, and as I throw it away from him, it fires.

A deafening roar envelops the room, followed by an eerie silence. Everyone freezes, and my heart pounds furiously as I look down. The attacker lies beneath me, wide-eyed, mouth agape, as his life drains from him.

“Fuck!” I shout, instinctively glancing at Dom, and relief washes over me as I see Killian staggering to his feet, unfazed by the situation.

He lunges for the remaining man, knocking him off balance. Without hesitation, I push past the body at my feet, moving toward Dom. I reach him just as Killian pulls him free, their eyes wide with fear and defeat.

“We need to get out of here right fucking now!” I shout, fear pumping through my veins, feeling the urgency of the moment.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the remaining attacker regaining his footing, eyes narrowing as they scan the room for us.

“Shit!” Dom yells, rushing past me to the front door. “Let’s go! There’s no time!”

As the three of us manage to stagger to the door, upon opening it, we freeze in our tracks, being met with three more sets of evil eyes, the feeling of defeat taking over.

"Going somewhere?" My father asks smugly, blowing a puff of cigar smoke directly into my face.

I swallow hard, ignoring the immense pain flooding my body, taking a slow step back along with Dom and Kill, all three of our fathers backing us into the apartment even further.

Forced back inside where a man lies dead on my floor, the others rush out now that their job is done, and one positive thing keeps rushing through my mind—the fact that I saw no sight of Calista, which I'm hoping means that she was in fact able to run away.

"Sit down. We need to have a chat," Dom's father orders us, pointing to the couch.

We listen, deflated and fucking broken, collapsing on the couch right beside each other while our fathers stand in front of us, silent but threatening.

"You were behind this shit?" Killian seethes, glaring at his father while blood continues to drip from every laceration in his body.

"Where the fuck is she?" My father pierces his gaze into mine, but I refuse to speak. "We know you've been in contact with her, and if I recall correctly, you were told to bring her to us once you found her."

I shrug, hearing my heartbeat hammering in my chest. "I don't know. She hasn't been here."

The tension in the room heightens, a palpable mix of anger and determination swirling around us. My father's eyes darken, an unmistakable fury igniting within him.

“This is not a fucking game, boy. You had your chance to bring her to us, and now everything is at risk.” His voice drops to a dangerous whisper.

“Risk? What risk?” I snap back, every ounce of rebellion surging through my veins as adrenaline numbs the pain radiating from my head. “You think dragging her back into this miserable fucking world is going to fix anything? Shit, you all have it all fucking wrong."

“Asher, don’t you dare fucking test me.” My father's eyes smolder with a menacing intensity, and I know he's only a breath away from wanting to snap my fucking neck.

I can feel my heart racing in response—that gnawing fear clawing at my insides—but the thought of Cali keeps me grounded.

“Where the hell is she? We know she’s been with you. You know you can’t hide her from us. All we're trying to do is stop her parents from finding her first."

Killian, wincing but still trying to gather his strength, interjects. “You don’t give a shit about her. You just want control over everything and everyone!” His voice is hoarse but laced with a fire that mirrors my own. “You should have fucking known we wouldn’t just hand her over.”

Dom shifts uncomfortably between us, seething, knowing we have to stick together and keep her location a secret, even if it means betraying our family.

“She’s not a fucking pawn. She knows to stay the fuck away from here because of all of you,” he yells suddenly, the defiance echoing in the small apartment.

Despite everything, we’re still willing to fight for her, even if it means risking our lives just to protect hers.

“Enough!” Dom's father roars, the edge of his anger slicing through the air. “You think you can fucking defy us? You think you can protect her? You’re outnumbered—you three against our world. Neither of you are fucking strong enough.”

A loud thump reverberates from somewhere beyond the door, the sound of a body slamming against the wall, and I tense, adrenaline kicking back in.

“You really have no fucking idea what’s coming, do you?” I mutter under my breath, eyes darting to the window, searching for any sign of movement or hope.

My father scoffs in response, standing tall and imposing like a storm cloud ready to unleash its torture. “You’re goddamn na?ve if you think any of this will end well. You’ve all made fucking enemies for life.”

"Shit, and you three haven't?" Kill scoffs, finally butting in.

Suddenly, the door bursts open again. The air shifts, buzzing with the promise of another battle as a figure cloaked in all black steps across the threshold, hastily pulling back the hood of their sweatshirt to reveal their face, covered by an all too familiar mask with glowing red X’s over the eyes—one that I've seen so many times.

Cali .

Panic surges through me, but before I can react, vigilance brightens her dark eyes, even amidst the turmoil.

"Who the hell are you?" My father asks, concern growing heavy in his eyes, matching the look in Dom’s and Killian's fathers to a tee.

She says nothing, but we know it's her. But they don’t. Relief washes over me, and for a second, I can breathe, knowing that she's safe... for now. We lock eyes, and I watch hers lower, following the quick look she gives away.

Clutched in her hand, half hidden behind her back, is a flash bang, her way of getting us out of here. While our fathers are staring at her, trying to figure out what's happening, I grab the guys' attention, motioning toward the object in her hands.

Within seconds, she throws the can right at our fathers' feet, giving the three of us just enough time to cover our faces and shield ourselves from the blast as best we can.

Our fathers aren't so lucky.

Me, Dom, and Killian scramble in response to the piercing sound and thickening smoke, our focus shifting to the open door, trying to make it out. We rush through the narrow space, evading our fathers grappling hands and desperate shouts, not bothering to look back.

We barrel through, diving into the hallway just as another violent crash resounds behind us. My breath comes out in ragged gasps as I push open the back door of the building, a burst of frigid air hitting me like a slap to the face.

We’re out... and with Cali alongside us.

“Which way?” she hollers, scanning the alleyway, lurking shadows dancing in the night.

“Left!” Dominic shouts, urgency commanding his voice. “The garage! We can take the car!”

We sprint forward, our hearts pounding, mismatched footsteps pounding against the concrete.

Just a little further.

The garage door looms in front of us, taunting; it feels like a saving grace in this world full of corruption and violence. But even if we get out alive, what then? This world is filled with our enemies, and they won’t stop hunting us down. Still, for now, I refuse to let my mind run wild, determined not to let fear overtake me.

“Open it!” Kill urges as our feet pound the ground beneath us, turning towards the garage door, finding it slightly ajar.

I pull on the handle, forcing the door open wide, the four of us tumbling inside the packed space

“Get to the car!” I shout, adrenaline kicking back in, as Dom and Killian jump into his Mustang parked haphazardly at the far side.

I keep my eyes peeled for any sign of our fathers as Cali and I slip into the backseat just as the engine roars to life, and we jolt forward, tearing out of the garage and into the night.

Freedom will find us somewhere down the road; we just have to be faster, smarter, and willing to fight for every last thread of hope.

"Where am I going?" Dom asks breathlessly, glancing at me in the rearview mirror.

Knowing we need a distraction and to get as far away as we can, I grin, remembering Five's message. "Charlestown; there's a sprint going down tonight."

As I hold onto Cali tightly, sliding around the backseat as Dom drives wildly into the night, I can’t help but believe we’ll prevail in this nightmare—we'll make it out alive, but at what cost?

Because this shit, this is just the fucking beginning.