Page 29 of Nitro
A sharp jerk, clean break. His knees buckled.
“Wrong,” I growled before I broke each of his fingers.
I let him cry for a few minutes, then sighed impatiently and lifted my chin at Drift.
He grabbed the kid’s other arm, yanking it out straight, and I broke that one, too. His howl was ragged, wet, and full of panic now. Edge watched, bored as he flipped his knife.
“You think sabotage makes you a racer?” I snarled, crowding over the recruit as he sagged to his knees. “You think jealousy earns you a spot in this world?”
I crouched, grabbed his chin, and forced him to look at me through the tears streaking his dirty face. Then I crushed the fingers of his broken hand under my boot.
“P-please don’t kill me,” he whimpered when he was done screaming.
“Kill you?” I scoffed. “You don’t deserve that kind of ending, asshole. Every bone I break tonight is a reminder of why you’ll never hold a wheel again. You’ll never clutch a throttle. You’re finished.”
I slammed him back and let him crumple. He whimpered, curling over his broken hands like they mattered more than his spine.
Edge flicked the blade shut with a snap. “Guess that settles the application process.”
Drift lit another cigarette and blew smoke toward the ceiling. “Kid’s done.”
I stared at him a beat longer, letting the silence drive it in deep as I debated whether to change my mind and put a bullet in the sniveling fucker. But after a few minutes, I stood and pulled my cut straight.
“Dump him somewhere he can crawl for help,” I ordered. “But he’s not setting foot in this garage again.”
Drift grabbed the recruit under one arm, Edge under the other, and they hauled him toward the stairs, his broken screams fading into the concrete as they went.
I stayed a minute, fists still buzzing from the impact, blood thundering in my ears. My reflection stared back from the dark glass of the tool cabinet—sweat-streaked, eyes wild but steady.
Nobody touched my woman.
Not her ride. Not her skin. Not her fucking air.
13
JANA
Ever since Torin tore out of here after Jax called, my concentration had been shattered. I needed to stop wondering what the hell he was up to and remember why I was here.
I’d come to Crossbend to carve out a place in the racing circuit that no one could take from me. And I was doing it. I’d earned a spot and held my own against men twice my size. Car or bike, I’d beat them all. The lap times didn’t lie. My name was now out there, and people were starting to take notice.
But somewhere along the way, it had stopped being just about racing. Torin had tangled himself up in everything I thought I wanted.
I couldn’t tell if I was losing my independence…or if this was the first time I’d truly been building something of my own. With Torin.
More than just being a racer and proving I could survive on my own.
It would’ve been easier if the sabotage attempts had rattled me enough to run. But Torin had stepped in like it was alreadydecided. As though he’d tear the world apart before he let anyone touch me.
Then, before he left, he told me I wouldn’t need to worry about anyone messing with my ride again.
I hadn’t asked what he meant. Because deep down, I didn’t really want to know.
Torin was good to me. Patient when I bristled. Relentless when I tried to push him away. Maybe even my own personal hero, though the thought made my stomach twist. He wasn’t anything like the men in my father’s club—bikers who used their cuts as an excuse to control and destroy.
Torin’s claim on me didn’t feel like a cage. It felt like a shield.
And that was dangerous.
