Page 48 of Blood & Throttle
And that’s when I see it.
The bridge is rigged with explosives.
I grip his jacket tighter, pulse spiking. "Riot—"
His voice is sharp and unwavering. "Hold on tight, Little Stray."
He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t slow. Instead, he flicks a switch and just grips the throttle, pushing harder, weaving through the chaos like he was born in it.
The jump boosters I modified for this exact situation engage, and suddenly, the front of the bike lifts.
We launch.
For a split second, we’re weightless.
The world slows, the deafening roar of the crowd fading beneath the rush of wind screaming past my ears. My stomach lurches, twisting like it’s trying to claw its way out of my body as we soar over the gaping void below—a skeletal graveyard of rusted metal, shattered concrete, and twisted rebar waiting to rip us apart if we fall.
The bike hangs in midair, the weight of it heavy beneath us, suspended in nothing but a heartbeat of pure, terrifying silence.
Cold air whips through my hair, tugging at the strands that have slipped loose from my helmet. I grip Riot harder, fingers digging into his jacket, my body locking up as the ground rushes toward us, too fast, too fucking far down.
I swear I hear him laugh. The reckless, cocky bastard actually fucking laughs.
Then, with a brutal jolt, the tires slam onto the cracked pavement on the other side, the impact rattling through my bones. The bike wobbles, but Riot keeps it steady, twisting the throttle and launching us forward before the others can even make the jump.
My heart is in my goddamn throat, pulse hammering.
He doesn’t look back, doesn’t say a word.
But I can feel it. That rush. That hunger. That fucking thrill that’s eating him alive.
And the worst part?
For the first time, I think I fucking like it.
The finish line is right there.
And so is Jace.
The bastard made the jump.
His bike is mangled, spewing smoke, the front barely holding together, but he’s still on it. Still gunning for us. Still alive.
I grit my teeth, fingers twitching toward the last mod I installed.
Click.
The spring-loaded blade snaps out under the tailpipe, gleaming under the floodlights. A half-second later, it slashes across Jace’s front wheel.
His bike jerks hard.
For a split second, I think he’s going down.
But then?
He recovers.
He shifts his weight, muscles straining, boots scraping against the pavement as he forces the bike steady. It wobbles, smokes, and shudders beneath him, but it doesn’t fucking fall.
