Page 20

NINETEEN

CAREFREE

VINDICATED: DASHBOARD CONFESSIONAL

CALISTA

A s I pull a wet wipe from my backpack, I glide the cool cloth over my face and neck, finally tending to my hands to erase every trace of Gunnar's blood, ensuring I present a clean facade for the race. With Killian’s hand in mine, I walk proudly, a spring in my step, joining the cheering crowd gathered in anticipation of another underground showdown.

A sense of liberation washes over me; it feels like I can finally breathe again, as if a tremendous burden has been lifted from my chest since I killed Gunnar—the final piece of the puzzle that leads straight to my parents. Calling my mother while I finished him off was the cherry on top. She knows I’m fucking coming for them, and the fear in her voice only fans the flames of my resolve.

“Are you holding up alright?” Killian asks, giving my hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

“I’m doing amazing,” I reply, a hint of amusement dancing in my voice, but more than anything, I feel undeniably alive. “I want to race tonight.”

His eyebrows arch in surprise—just a flicker, but it’s enough. We lock eyes, a silent understanding passing between us as we draw nearer to the vibrant lights ahead, the heady scent of burning rubber and gasoline thick in the air.

“I’m sure Five has a car around here."

“Nah, I’m riding in this race,” I interrupt, pointing to Ash’s royal blue sports bike parked in the spectators’ lot.

Before he can respond, Ash and Dominic rush toward us, relief washing over their faces. I release Killian and leap into Ash’s arms, wrapping my legs around his waist as I whisper in his ear.

“Let me race your bike tonight,” I breathe, my lips grazing the shell of his ear, causing him to shiver.

“Go ahead, Little Psycho. What’s mine is yours,” he replies playfully, slipping the key into my bra.

I hear Five explaining the course and rules to the new drivers curious about the night’s thrills. After kissing Ash on the cheek as he sets me back on my feet, I smooth my shirt and adjust my leggings, double-checking that no trace of Gunnar’s blood remains.

“How did tonight go?” Dominic asks, glancing between me and Killian.

“Perfect. I killed him,” I state, a grin plastered on my face.

“She absolutely did, and she even called her mother while doing it,” Killian adds with a chuckle.

“Cali, was that really a good idea?” Dominic wonders, his eyes wide with disbelief.

“Absolutely. Now she knows I’m coming for them, and I won’t stop until they’re dead,” I shrug, snagging a blunt from Ash’s hand as we head toward Five.

“As long as you know what you’re doing,” Ash grins, licking his lips.

“I’m not entirely sure what I’m doing. I’m figuring it out as I go,” I admit, stopping just a few feet away from Five.

“What’s going on, guys? You all racing tonight?” He asks, finishing up with the group of drivers and smiling at me in a way that sends butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

“Yeah, we’re all racing. But I’m using Ash’s bike,” I say, pulling the key from my cleavage and dangling it playfully in front of him.

“I’m riding my bike too,” Dominic chimes in, taking the blunt from my fingers.

“What about you two? Riding or driving?” Five asks Killian and Ash, curiosity lighting up his expression.

“Nah, I’m driving,” Ash replies, rubbing his hands together with excitement.

“Same,” Killian echoes, his eyes sparkling under the neon lights.

“Get into position then. The race is about to begin,” Five tells us, grabbing my wrist before I can walk away.

He pulls me against him, gripping the base of my neck and kissing me fiercely. Our tongues intertwine in a desperate dance, the roar of engines igniting around us, amplifying the thrill of the moment and making us feel more alive than ever.

As the kiss ends, I step back, slightly dazed but fully aware of the chaos that awaits us. The crowd begins to swell as anticipation hums through the air—a collision of excitement and danger that invigorates me. Five stands before us, eyes sharp and commanding as he addresses everyone, his voice cutting through the buzz of excitement.

“Alright, listen up! We’re running the twist tonight—a mixture of sharp turns and straightaways. You all know the stakes. Last one across the line? You owe me a drink. First one? Bragging rights for a month,” he announces.

A chorus of laughter mixes with grunts of determination from the assembled racers. As we make our way to our respective machines, my heart races in sync with the thudding engines around me. The roar of Ash’s bike is intoxicating—a melody of power and speed that aligns perfectly with my own intent, like a match igniting a powder keg.

I throw my leg over the bike and settle into the seat, feeling the smooth contours of the machine beneath me. My hands grip the handlebars, my fingers dancing over the throttle. I can almost hear the whisper of the asphalt calling me, echoing promises of victory.

“Ready?” I call out to Ash, glancing back at him. His grin is wide, shadows playing over his features under the neon glow.

“Just don’t crash my baby!” He shoots back from the driver's seat of his car, a cockiness in his tone that makes my heart flutter.

I nod, focusing on the track ahead. Five rounds up the racers, counting down while the crowd's roars turn into a chant. "Three, two, one!”

The world blurs as I twist the throttle, the bike surging forward with a growl. Wind slams against me, whipping my hair behind me like a banner of freedom. Adrenaline pumps through my veins, a fierce rush that drowns out any remnants of doubt. I’m invincible.

The first turn approaches, and I lean into it, trusting the bike to respond as I train my focus on the impending corners that snake through the makeshift course. Whispers of laughter and shouts of encouragement from spectators blur into a chaotic symphony around me, amplifying my exhilaration.

I catch glimpses of Dominic and Ash vying for position behind me, their adrenaline-fueled competitive spirit driving them. The track winds on, and with every twist and bend, I gain confidence, realizing I belong here among the madness.

But cracks of uncertainty flicker in my mind. The memory of Gunnar flashes before me, his final moments etched forever in my memory. No, not just memories—fuel. Each neck-wrenching turn, each gut-wrenching acceleration feeds my need for revenge, guiding me towards my ultimate goal: my parents.

I push through the pain and doubt, closing in on the leaders. It’s with that brutal resolve that I take my final chance, leaning hard as I navigate a particularly treacherous curve, accelerating sharply on the straightaway that follows.

I’m almost there. The finish line glimmers like a beacon in the distance, and I can hear the crowd erupting, my name roaring from their lips, binding me to this moment—this race.

And suddenly, I'm propelled beyond the finish line, triumphant and almost euphoric, wind-swept and wild, the scent of burning rubber swirling in the night air.

But as I slam to a halt, my heart still pounding, the thrill of victory catches in my throat. Victory is sweet, but it’s merely the beginning. Tonight is just a race; tomorrow, I’m taking my parents down. And I won’t stop until I’ve erased every trace of them from the world, just as I did with Gunnar.

I dismount Ash's bike with shaky legs and feel the rush of the crowd, their cheers swallowing me whole. I’m just about to absorb it all when I notice a figure emerging from the shadows on the sidelines, familiar eyes locked onto me with an unsettling intensity.

It’s time to fucking finish this.

My heart drops for a split second, and the adrenaline in my veins becomes a surge of icy dread. It’s not just anyone staring back at me—it’s my mother, her face carved from stone but riddled with cracks of fury and fear. She’s here, in the very place I vowed never to let her step foot again. The noise of the crowd fades as I take a step forward, instincts warring with the pull of anger and betrayal lodged deep within me.

“Cali!” she calls, her voice cracking like a whip in the chaos. It’s a command, a plea, but it carries the weight of years of neglect and manipulation.

“What the fuck do you want?” I call back, my throat tight as I suppress a wave of nausea threatening to break through my hard-won composure.

The guys immediately rush to my side, ready to protect me in any way that they can. Still in shock, my breathing becomes erratic, trying to figure out why she's here and what made her come hunt me down in public, knowing she's next on my list. The guys surround me, forming a protective barrier around me so that my mother can't get to me even if she tried, and the gesture just makes me love them even more.

My hands itch for the comfort of the throttle, to feel that raw power beneath me again, but I know there’s no escaping this moment. Her gaze doesn’t waver, even as the crowd roars around us. She steps forward, her heels clicking against the asphalt, cutting through the chaos, each step intentional, calculated.

“We need to talk," she says calmly, like we're best fucking friends or something and not the enemies we really are.

“Talk?” Rage wells inside me, igniting the remnants of my adrenaline high. It claws at my insides, but I suppress it, determined to remain in control. “What’s there to talk about? You’ve had years to explain yourself.”

“They think you’re a monster because of what you did tonight,” she presses on, ignoring my accusation. “You’re losing yourself.”

“I found myself when I took Gunnar down. It's the first right thing I’ve done,” I snap, my words sharp enough to slice through the tension. “What do you think you can do or say that will change anything? I’m not afraid of you anymore.”

The flicker of panic in her eyes almost makes me hesitate, but I quickly harden my resolve again. She strides closer, the noise of the crowd still vibrating around us as the reality of my actions sinks in like a thick fog. I can see it now—she’s trying to manipulate me, trying to mold my anger into guilt. She thinks she can pacify the beast I’ve become with soft promises and painful memories.

“You’re better than this, Cali! This isn’t you,” she insists, her eyes glistening under the neon lights. “You need to stop this before it consumes you—before it gets worse.”

“Worse?” I echo, my voice rising. “What kind of worse are you even talking about? You don’t get to stand there and tell me how to live after you destroyed everything that fucking mattered to me.”

A flicker of shame crosses her features, but her mask is quickly in place again. “This isn’t about me. This is about you making choices. You have to think about the consequences.”

At that, a deep, mocking laugh escapes my lips. “Consequences? You think I care about consequences after what you’ve done? After everything you’ve put me through?” I’m shouting now, and it feels as good as the thrill of the race. Each word comes easily; it’s a release that’s been building for years. “You placed me in this life, and I’ve just taken back control. You think I’ll cower to you now? I’m taking you and Dad down. You’re both fucking monsters, and I’ll end it all.”

The crowd’s cheers turn into murmurs, and I can sense their eyes shifting between us. I’m gaining the attention I expected, but this isn't the display I had hoped for. I need to keep my fire lit, but I don’t want it to turn into a sideshow for their entertainment.

Her expression softens momentarily, the flicker of a mother’s love trying to fight through the chaos of our history. “Cali, I was trying to protect you, to build a life?—”

“No! You were trying to protect yourself!” I shout, cutting her off. “You chose yourself over me every. single. time.” Each word strikes like a hammer, and she flinches, my pulse racing with vengeance.

Suddenly, Ash moves even closer to me, sensing the tension thick enough to cut through. “Cali, we should go—” he begins, but my gaze doesn’t waver from my mother’s.

“Why don’t we finish what we started? Just you and me?” I propose, the rush of revenge quaking through me. This feels like the final race, and it’s only just begun. “You owe me that much for taking my fucking life away.”

For a moment, she looks taken aback, and I can almost see her weighing her options—the motherly instincts battling against the remorseless figure she has become.

“I’ll do anything to stop you from spiraling down this path,” she tries one last time, but the urgency in her voice stings of desperation rather than sincerity.

I bark out a humorless laugh. “You’ve had every chance to pull me back, and now it’s my turn to pull the rug out from under you. This is my life, and I’ll burn it down just to watch it all go up in flames. If you’re in my way, I’ll make sure you get burned, too.”

The roar of the crowd erupts anew, drowning out whatever response she might muster. I see the fear creeping back into her eyes—a promise that I can take her down with all the grit and anger still coursing through my veins.

“Stay out of my fucking way, Elaine,” I warn, my tone lowering into a deadly whisper, knowing I’m standing on the cusp of my destiny. “Or next time, it won't just be a race that we’re running.”

With that, I turn, striding back toward my allies, my heartbeat echoing in sync with the pulse of the night. The crowd parts for me as I push through, adrenaline morphing into purpose as I clench my fists. I’m no longer just racing for a title or thrill. I’m racing for retribution—a reckoning that has been years in the fucking making.