Page 87 of Shadowed Sins: Nitro

The threat shouldn't make me harder. But it does.

My laugh comes out broken, and I slide down the railing until I'm sitting on the observation platform's edge. "You don't understand. When it's quiet, when there's nothing to do, I start thinking. And I can't... I can't stop."

She lowers herself to sit beside me, close enough that her thigh brushes mine. The contact burns through our clothes.

"Stop what?"

"Tommy's accident was one in forty-seven thousand. Roman's chances of surviving that blood loss were twelve percent. The likelihood that I'll destroy everything good in my life before thirty-one is ninety-three point seven percent and climbing."

My breathing quickens, vision sharpening with something beyond fear. This isn't just gambling addiction—it's my brain eating itself alive with mathematical terror.

"Tommy's ghost is trying to kill you," she says, and it's not a question. "Roman's maybe-death is accelerating it. And you're letting it happen."

"The math—"

"Fuck your math." Her hand moves toward mine, stops an inch away. That almost-touch makes my whole body ache. "The team monitors your accounts."

"Cole checks my finances weekly, not because I've betrayed anything, but because..." My voice cracks. "Because they're scared I'll destroy myself if they don't watch."

"Started after Tommy died." My voice gets smaller with each word. "Parents cut me off completely when I refused to quit racing. Needed money to keep competing, and I was good at reading odds, understanding probability."

"Tommy and I used to bet on everything. Stupid stuff. Which seagull would fly away first, how many red cars would pass in five minutes. After the accident, it was the only way to hear his voice in my head."

She shifts closer, our bodies touching now. The contact makes me shudder.

"Both of our parents blamed me for Tommy's death. His said I was reckless, that I got him killed. Mine cut off my racing fund,kicked me out." The shame burns hotter. "But I couldn't stop racing. Racing was the only thing that made sense after Tommy died."

"So, you gambled to fund it."

"Started small. Track bets, driver histories, mechanical failure rates. I was good at it because I understood the sport, could read patterns others missed." My hands shake as I speak. "But it wasn't enough. I needed bigger money, faster returns."

"I got in deep with some really bad people. Vincent 'The Hammer' Castellano runs numbers out of Long Beach. His enforcer, Marcus Webb, paid me three visits before I got the message." My voice drops to barely audible. "Broken ribs, dislocated shoulder, cigarette burns on my forearms. They wanted fifty grand plus interest."

The muscle in her jaw ticks, controlled fury that makes her look like she's planning murder.

"Where are they now?"

"Gone. Roman found me three years deep in debt, ready to eat a bullet because I couldn't see a way out. But he didn't just pay them off, he made sure they understood I was under his protection permanently." The words tumble out faster. "Never saw Castellano or Webb again. Word was Roman's people convinced them to relocate their operations somewhere far from California."

"Roman eliminated them." Not a question.

"Roman saved my life when I was drowning in Tommy's guilt, but it wasn't just him. The whole team... they gave me purpose when I was ready to end it." My voice breaks. "Roman set up monitoring systems, but Cole handles my finances, Kade redirects me when I get twitchy, Asher makes sure I eat when I'm spiraling. They built this whole safety net to keep me functional."

"Roman created protocols to redirect my compulsions into mission planning. Mathematical analysis, probability calculations for operations. Gave my brain productive channels, made me understand that people were counting on me to keep my shit together." Tears leak from my eyes now. "The team became my family when my real one gave up on me."

"And now he might be dead."

"If he's really alive, if I failed him again..." I get up abruptly, start pacing, running my hands through my hair. "He saved me from Tommy's ghost, from Castellano's enforcers, from myself. And I might have let him die because I wasn't good enough. Wasn't fast enough."

My phone buzzes against the concrete where I dropped it. My whole body jerks toward it like I've been shocked. The sound makes me whimper with need.

She reaches over and picks it up, studying the screen like a hunter sizing up prey.

"Every instinct says exploit this weakness. Use it as leverage." Her throat sounds raw. "Something stronger says protect you from yourself."

"Why? What's in it for you?"

"Because you're mine." The words come out possessive, dangerous. "I tried professional distance. Tried to pretend this was just fucking. But watching you come undone makes me want to kill everyone who ever hurt you."