Page 46 of Blood & Throttle
The light flashes, and hell is unleashed.
The bike surges forward, my body jerking against Riot’s back as we tear down the track. The wind howls, the first sharp turn coming fast.
A racer to our left swings a chain. It whistles past, missing by inches.
I snarl, clamping my thighs down tighter around him. “Jesus, fuck—”
“Keep your fucking eyes open, Little Stray,” Riot growls.
Another racer tries to cut us off, but Riot jerks the bike sideways, sending them careening into a wrecked semi.
The track is chaos.
A mine detonates to our left, flames swallowing a racerwhole.
Jace is behind us, leading his pack, gunning for blood.
My grip tightens.
This isn’t just about winning.
This is about survival.
And the only way out is through.
Riot grips the throttle, the Ducati snarling beneath us as he guns it forward, weaving through the first stretch of the Bone Yard—a sprawling, abandoned industrial district swallowed by rust and decay.
The track is a death trap.
Rusted shipping containers stacked like a collapsing maze. Crumbling factories riddled with sniper nests. Oil spills shimmering like black ice under the floodlights. Rigged explosives buried just deep enough that you won’t see them until it’s too fucking late.
This isn’t just about who’s the fastest.
It’s about who’s still breathing at the end.
The announcer’s voice booms through the speakers, barely audible over the roar of engines and the bloodthirsty crowd.
"Welcome to The Bone Yard, ladies and gentlemen! The first true test of The Gauntlet! Let’s see who’s got the guts and who ends up in the dirt!"
A flash of movement to the left.
"Sniper!" I shout.
Riot reacts instantly, veering hard just as a shot cracks through the air, kicking up debris where we’d been a second ago.
"Race just started, and these desperate fucks are already taking shots at us," he growls.
Another gunshot rings out, this one aimed at the racer beside us. The bullet punches through his helmet. His head jerks back violently, his body going limp as his bike swervesout of control and slams into the side of a rusted tanker truck.
The explosion is instant.
Fire and metal erupt, the heat licking at my skin as Riot swerves to avoid the wreckage.
"Jesus fucking Christ!" I hiss.
"Keep your eyes open, Little Stray, and hold on," Riot shouts over the roar of engines.
I glare at the back of his head. "Maybe if you weren’t throwing us into every goddamn death trap—"
