The barrier shifts again just behind us as we dive through the final opening and crash onto the finish platform.
The horn blasts.
The scoreboard updates.
TOP FIVE FINISH
The crowd explodes into cheers.
I roll onto my back and stare up at the stadium lights, breathing hard.
Tilda stands beside me, hands on her hips as she watches the results board.
“Well,” she says quietly.
“That worked.”
I grin.
“Look at us.”
She glances down.
“You actually followed instructions.”
“Shocking.”
But the truth settles quietly inside my chest as I stand up and brush the dust from my arms.
I’m not just trying to win anymore.
Not just trying to stay alive long enough to pay off a crime boss with terrible taste in metaphors.
I’m trying to prove something.
To Tilda.
To myself.
And maybe—if the arithmetic in my head turns out to be true—to someone else entirely.
Because if that kid is mine, then the last thing he deserves is a father who only shows up when it’s convenient.
Which means one thing becomes painfully clear as the scoreboard flashes our names near the top of the rankings.
I have to win this.
Not for the prize.
For the future I might already be responsible for.
CHAPTER 17
TILDA
The compound wakes early after a strong finish.
It always does.
