Page 58 of Shadowed Sins: Nitro

Her assessment anchors me when I want to tear these monsters apart. The gambling high crashes immediately, replaced by nausea that burns my throat.

"Transportation timeline?"

"Tomorrow night. After the racing crowds disperse, you drive lead vehicle to distribution points."

I'll be driving people to hell.

"Payment?"

"Fifty thousand per successful delivery."

Two hundred thousand dollars for trafficking humans. The vodka turns to acid on my tongue.

"Routes?"

Gideon traces paths on the map with one finger. "Port to Vernon facility. One-hour window during shift change."

"Security?"

"Minimal. Racing provides distraction, media coverage, perfect chaos."

Through my earpiece, I hear Mira shifting position, reminding me she's real, she's there, she's watching.

"I'm in," I force out.

Viktor raises his glass. "To profitable partnerships and mutual prosperity."

I drink vodka that burns while mapping every detail for later intelligence sharing.

"Your racing experience provides legitimate cover," Viktor continues. "Tomorrow you become essential to our operations."

Everything I loved about racing has been poisoned by these monsters.

"Looking forward to it."

"As are we. Your reputation precedes you, but your commitment exceeds expectations."

We discuss logistics for another ten minutes: pickup times, route variations, emergency protocols. Every word is intelligence that will save lives but delivering it means participating in horror.

"Gentlemen, this has been enlightening." I stand, chair scraping against metal. "Tomorrow night, then."

"Tomorrow night," Viktor confirms. "Welcome to the real money, Ace."

I walk back through the underground venue, hundred thousand burning in my pocket alongside intel that could help destroy these operations.

But worse than both is the need scorching through my veins. Won the bet but feel emptier than before. Because it's not the money I wanted, it's her voice saying my name the way it matters.

"Clear for extraction," Mira says. "Roof access, southeast corner. Maintenance ladder behind the third pillar."

"The roof?"

"Now, Jax."

The climb takes everything I have left. My hands shake on cold metal rungs, not from exertion but from withdrawal. From needing her voice, her presence, her. Days of substituting everything else for what I really want.

She's waiting at the edge, city lights spreading behind her in fractured patterns. Wind whips her hair as she tracks my approach, every line of her body coiled with lethal grace. Moonlight turns her into something mythical, something dangerous, beautiful, completely untouchable.

"You bet fifty thousand dollars."