Page 69 of Blood & Throttle
He hesitates. Runs a hand through his hair, then tugs the strings of his hoodie tighter like they’ll keep the story in.
“I was just a kid. Twelve. Maybe thirteen when my brother, Felix, raced his first Gauntlet. He was everything. Rode like he had fire in his veins. Took care of me after our parents died. Taught me how to fix bikes, break into locked terminals, lie with a straight face.”
He pauses and swallows.
“He entered The Gauntlet Riot’s first year. They weren’t friends, per say, but being first riders, they had this like unspoken respect. They helped each other out, when everyone else was out to get them.”
“What happened?” I ask quietly.
“He crashed.” His voice drops, guarded now. “Took a sniper shot to the chest in the second sector. Syndicate wanted blood for the cameras. He didn’t even get a name in the broadcast. Just... 'Racer 17 eliminated.’ Like he was nothing.”
My throat tightens.
“I was watching on a stolen tablet,” he adds. “Found a hotspot outside the arena gates and watched the whole thing with a bag of chips and a soda like it was some fucking movie. And then my brother died on screen, and I couldn’t doanything.”
I don’t say anything. Don’t breathe too loud. Just let him talk.
“After that,” Ghost says, voice quieter now, “I decided I was gonna blow the whole fucking Syndicate off the map.”
I blink. “That’s casual.”
He smirks faintly. “I’m serious. I hacked into one of their substations. Rerouted security feeds. Stole floor plans. I had a whole setup—homemade pipe bombs, tripwire triggers,even thermal charges I rigged from scrap tech and old drone cores. Was gonna hit one of their Westport supply routes during shift change. Make it loud. Bloody.”
I stare at him. “You were thirteen.”
He shrugs, like that’s just a footnote. “Grief and rage make a solid motivation cocktail.”
“Jesus,” I mutter.
He grins. “I was a menace. Wired to blow. Would’ve done it, too.”
“What stopped you?”
“Riot.”
I turn, eyebrows raised.
“Tracked me down a day before it was supposed to go down. I don’t know how, still think he paid off someone at OmniCast. Found me wiring explosives in a storm drain under the city. Didn’t yell, didn’t even flinch, just stood there while I pointed a homemade detonator at his chest.”
I blink. “Let me guess… you tried to stab him.”
“With a screwdriver,” he confirms, smirking. “Still had blood on it from a guy who tried to rob me the night before.”
“Romantic.”
He shrugs. “Riot looked me dead in the eyes and said, ‘You do this, you’re dead. And Felix doesn’t get justice. He gets a body count.’”
My chest goes tight.
Ghost continues, voice softer now. “He told me revenge isn’t about making noise. It’s about making sure they neverget back up. Said we’d get justice for Felix, but we’d do it smart. The right way. Thelastingway.”
I swallow hard. “And you believed him?”
“Didn’t have much else to believe in.” He looks down at his hands, at the worn threads in his sleeves. “He didn’t treat melike some broken kid. Just… handed me gear. Gave me passwords. Trusted me like I’d already earned it.”
I nod slowly. “So he saved you.”
“Nah,” Ghost says. “Hechoseme.” A pause. Then, quietly, “And I’ve been building our reckoning ever since.”
