Page 20 of Shadowed Sins: Nitro

"Transport loading for venue two!" The announcement shatters the moment. "Participants only!"

She steps back, and the loss of proximity feels like losing oxygen.

"You should go," she says. "Don't want to miss your next race."

"What about you?"

Her smile is all predator. "I told you. I go where I want."

She turns to leave, moving toward the restricted area where security doesn't patrol, where the container maze gets more complex. Where someone could easily disappear if they knew what they were doing.

"That's dangerous," I call after her. "Security sweeps those areas."

She pauses, glances back over her shoulder. "Worried about me?"

Yes. Desperately. Irrationally.

"Maybe."

"Don't be." Her smile sharpens. "I can take care of myself."

She disappears between containers, moving with a fluid grace that makes my brain scream warnings. Everything about her is wrong—the restricted access, the tactical clothes, the way she moves like a predator hunting prey.

She's dangerous. Stay away.

But my feet are already moving to follow her.

"Ace!" Gideon's voice stops me. "Van's loading. You coming or not?"

I look back at the gap between containers where she vanished. Empty shadows and industrial lighting. Like she was never there at all.

"Yeah," I manage. "Coming."

I climb into the transport van, squeezing between other drivers. But all I can think about is the way she moved through those shadows. The warning in her eyes when she said we all have things we're running from.

What are you running from, Mira?

My phone buzzes. Text from a private number:"Stop looking for me. I'll find you when I'm ready."

My pulse kicks up another notch. She has my number. She's watching. She's hunting.

Good. Let her hunt. I want to be caught.

Another text appears:"Venue two. Northeast corner. After your race."

I delete the messages immediately, operational security kicking in. But the promise burns in my chest like swallowed fire.

"You good, Ace?" One of the other drivers asks. "You look wired."

"Never better," I lie, fighting the urge to pull out my keys and spin them in the familiar rhythm that usually grounds me.

The van rumbles through Long Beach streets, heading toward the next venue. Through the window, industrial buildings blur past like ghosts. Somewhere out there, she's moving through shadows, hunting something or someone.

Northeast corner. After your race.

The thought of seeing her again makes my hands shake worse than any gambling withdrawal. Makes my blood run hot and cold at the same time.

Cole's voice comes through my earpiece. "Vitals are spiking again. What's happening?"