Page 141 of The Last Hope

Colder. Sharper.

The two backed off, climbing back into their cars without another word, though they continued to glare at each other.

“Let’s go, Nana !” Roman said, holding the door open for me as my earlier courage slipping further away.

“We’re going on the same track ? With that corner ?” I asked. Roman kissed my cheek, “buckle up, Selina.”

I did. Fast.

“Who are we racing ?” I asked.

“Whoever dares face me,” he said, starting the engine with a roar that sent the crowd into a frenzy.

Out of nowhere, a bright red car pulled up beside us. Roman froze, gripping the steering wheel tighter, “neporochnayamalen'kayadevochka, (cheeky little girl.)” he muttered through clenched teeth.

I leaned forward to see the driver, but the tinted windows only revealed a shadowy silhouette of a woman.

Suddenly, the car's engine roared even louder than ours.

“An acquaintance ?” I asked.

Roman nodded. “Kind of.”

A woman stepped between the cars, raising a white handkerchief. “Hold on,” Roman said, hitting the gas before the cloth even dropped.

I gasped, clutching the door, “Oh my God…” we sped down the road, side by side with the red car.

"Not this time," Roman growled, shifting gears and pinning me to my seat.

“Shouldn’t we slow before the turn ?” I asked, fear overtaking my initial excitement. Roman didn't answer, his face dark and focused.

We entered the curve at dizzying speed. The red car kept up without flinching.

I screamed as the cars scraped. Roman pushed harder, and we surged toward the final turn the rows of parked cars coming into view.

Both cars were neck to neck, and my stomach churned as Roman pushed the car even faster.

“Roman !” I cried, grabbing his arm with one hand and covering my mouth with the other. He clenched his jaw and, to my immense relief, eased off the gas.

The red car shot past us, drifting effortlessly through the turn. Roman followed closely, but the race was already lost.

The red car skidded to a halt after drifting to face us as Roman slammed on the brakes, stopping inches from it. He jumped out and drew his gun, “get out,” he barked at the red car driver. I stumbled out after him, collapsing.

Roman tried to catch me, but I hit the ground.

“Selina!” He grabbed my arms, panic in his voice. “You’re pale as a ghost.Blayt, I’m sorry.” I shook my head, about to reassure him—but tires screeched.

The red car reversed, spun, and disappeared into the night.

“Blayt,” Roman spat again.

Then—

“The cops are coming ! They’re here !” someone shouted.

Panic exploded. Engines roared. Roman yanked me back to theBMW. Just as I was about to climb in, another car reversed—slamming into our hood. I screamed as Roman shielded me.

“Sorry, Ivanov !” a voice called, the loser from earlier, he sped off.

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