Page 12 of Blood & Throttle
“This some kind of fucking joke?” another racer spits, looking between me and the girl like he’s waiting for me to take it back.
I flick my cigarette to the ground, watching it burn out against the pavement. “No joke.”
More murmurs. Confusion.
This isn’t how it works.
A racer doesn’t bet against himself. Especially not when the whole goddamn circuit is already set up for him to win.
Vick clicks his tongue, narrowing his eyes at me. "You got a death wish, Carter? You do realize Kane’s men are watching, right? Betting against the house ain't smart, man."
I don’t bother looking at the suits lurking at the edge of the pit, but I can feel their eyes on me.
I just fucked with their money.
Which means I just fucked with them.
I shrug, bored. “Take the fucking bet, Vick.”
He hesitates. Just for a second. Just long enough for me to see the sweat forming at his temple.
Then he presses the button and locks it in.
The numbers flash across the screens, official and real—one million on Sienna Vega to survive.
More than that… to win.
And just like that, the pit goes from confused to fucking furious.
"You’re out of your goddamn mind."
"You just gave that bitch a free ticket!"
"You betting on your new pet, Riot?" someone sneers.
I don’t react. They’re all fucking stupid.
This isn’t about her.
This is about what happens next.
Because now?
Every single bastard on that track is gonna have to fucking choose—go after her like the house wants or get in my fucking way.
Either way, tonight’s gonna be real goddamn interesting.
Three
Sienna
Play Destroy - Poppy & Grimes
If I hada dollar for every time a man thought I was dead before the fight even started, I wouldn’t need to be in this fucking race.
But here I am.
And it doesn’t take a goddamn genius to know that every piece of shit here wants me to crash and burn.
