I sit hard on a busted crate near the pit wall, and she’s already on me. Ripping open what’s left of my jacket, jaw clenched like she might kill me herself.
“You let him fucking shoot you,” she mutters, pressing gauze into the hole.
“I didn’t let shit happen,” I grind out.
“Sure,” she snaps. “You just thought you’d bleed out for fun?”
Only ten bikes made it across. Ten out of nearly forty. Ghost is already dragging what’s left of our ride off the field, cursing under his breath about “Total mod failure” and “Exploded fuel intake.” The rest of the crew is closing in, their faces tight, scanning for injuries.
Then Jace crosses the line.
His bike barely makes it—front wheel bent, exhaust sparking. He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t park.
He throws himself off mid-roll and storms toward us.
His helmet bounces off the ground with a crack.
“You think this is done?” he yells, voice ragged. “You think killing Vex lets you walk?”
Sin doesn’t answer.
She stands, steady, expression flat.
Jace points at her. “You think because you ride with him, that you’re untouchable?”
“You shot him,” she says. Calm. Cold and completelydisregarding the bullshit he’s spitting. “You’re lucky you’re still fucking breathing.”
He grabs her arm and everything shifts.
She moves first.
One punch to the face.
Then a second to the gut.
Jace stumbles back surprised and off balance but not for long. He swings wide but she ducks, slams her knee into his nuts, and he collapses.
I move forward.
Bishop’s hand clamps down on my chest.
“Don’t,” he mutters. “You know she’s got this.”
“I don’t give a shit,” I growl, trying to shove past him.
“She’s not fighting for herself,” he says. “She’s fighting for you. Let her. If you stop her you make her look weak.”
It fucking kills me to watch.
I know Sin can handle her own. Especially against a rat like Jace. But watching her do it, watching her have to, it twists something inside me. Something ugly. I’d rip his spine out if she let me. But I know Bishop is right. This? This is hers.
The crowd around the pits is going insane. Every screen across every district is tuned in. Drones hover inches above the brawl, streaming Sin beating Jace’s ass in 4K blood and glory. Syndicate cameras don’t cut. They never do.
Sin tackles Jace hard, slamming him onto the concrete with a sickening thud. Her thighs lock around his ribs as she straddles him. Her whole body moves with rage, every punch calculated, brutal, personal.
She is savage.
Beautiful and fucking lethal.