Page 21 of Blood & Throttle
Gasps. Shouts and a few sharp, eager laughs.
Jace hits the pavement hard, blood splattering as his head bounces off the concrete. His body twitches, his hands scrambling for balance, his eyes wide and glassy as his mind tries to process what the fuck just happened.
I take a slow drag, the burn settling deep in my lungs, smoke curling around my face as I crouch beside him.
Jace groans, blood smeared across his jaw.
Behind me, his crew shifts—pissed off, and ready to step in. One of them inches forward, another cracking his knuckles like he actually thinks he’s gonna do something.
I raise a hand, slowly. A silent warning.
They freeze.
Because they know.
Push me, and they end up just like Jace—spitting blood and eating pavement.
He groans again, as he lays below me, dazed and wrecked. I exhale slowly, blowing a thick stream of smoke right into his swollen face. Then I flick the butt at him, the smoldering end bouncing off his cheek, leaving a faint ember streak in the sweat and grime.
"Try that shit again, Jace, and I’ll put you in the fucking ground… permanently."
He glares up at me, blood dripping from his busted nose, teeth clenched like he’s debating whether he’s got the balls to say something.
He doesn’t.
I shift, standing to my full height, rolling the tension out of my shoulders like I’m just getting fucking started. I drag my gaze over the rest of the pit, slow as hell, making sure every single one of these bastards knows exactly what the fuck will happen if they step out of line.
"Anybody else got a fucking problem?"
Silence.
The organizers exchange glances, muttering like they think they actually get a fucking vote in this.
They don’t.
One of them finally nods. That’s all it takes. It’s fucking settled.
Nothing in The Gauntlet’s rules says I can’t race with her.
They don’t like it. I don’t give a single fuck.
The pit is still tense, charged, a goddamn powder keg waiting to blow.
But the decision is made.
And if any of these motherfuckers want to test me on it, they’ll be leaving in a body bag.
None of them are dumb enough to challenge me. Not now.
Not when it comes to her.
I step back, tilting my head to the side until my neck pops, the sharp crack cutting through the tense silence like a gunshot. My knuckles still sting from Jace’s face.
I flick my gaze toward Sienna, expecting something—shock, gratitude, maybe even a little fucking common sense.
I should know better by now.
She just stands there, watching me, shoulders squared, chinup, dark eyes burning with that same goddamn defiance that should’ve been broken by now.
