Page 70 of Fueled Hate

He’s falling right in line. I don’t even have to toss out the bait for him to take it, he hooks himself every time willingly. “Challenge accepted.”

Kyle stands, tapping his fingers on the table. “Tonight.” He takes his time to wave at Sadie who is staring in our direction, but her gaze stays on me as he walks away and out of the café.

She is mine and will never be within his grasp again. So, why don’t I feel a sense of relief, of triumph for the months it’s taken to get to this point—the final stretch. I still don’t have solid proof that Kyle was responsible for Noah’s death, but I don’t need it. Even if he didn’t hurt Noah, he most certainly hurt Sadie and needs to pay. Frank is the one I can’t decide on. He’s directly linked to Kyle’s dealing, enabling him. Offering up Sadie, encouraging her back into the lion’s den, all to keep on Kyle’s good side for dirty money, blood money, while he protects the true monster.

I’ll lose her—that’s fated. But she will also be out of their grasp. For that, I’ll gladly accept the consequences.

39

Sadie

“Have you changed your mind yet?” Willow asks, interrupting my thoughts.

“No, I’m sure.”

“Okay. Well, if you want to leave early just let me know.”

“All right.” Leaving early doesn’t sound appealing because it’s the final race that I want to see. It hadn’t taken long after Kyle and Dylan’s café chat for word to spread that Kyle wants to race him tonight. And I want to be there. Not just to watch the race but for Dylan. It’s more than just a race when he gets on that track.

“Does your dad know?”

“No.” And that’s how I want to keep it. Willow offered to drive me home to get my car after we leave the Dome tonight. It sounded like the best option because I should be able to avoid Dad and Levi, get my car, and drive the hour back. Since I have to be at Big Tobe’s for my shift in the morning, I want my car tonight even if it’ll make for a long day tomorrow.

Willow pulls into an opening along the strip, and the races are already in full swing as a Challenger and R8 barrel down the track, the Audi claiming the victory. Leaning against the hood of her car, we watch as the next two racers, one being Kyle, take their positions. I’m sure he’s pissed that he has to start all over, tick off each bracket to make the final race. Knowing him, he’d likely expected his name to be in the final round just because.

A few minutes later, Kyle crosses the finish line in his ZR1, easily beating a Toyota Supra to earn the spot to face the R8. Even if he is earning each spot, it’s still nauseating because he’s getting exactly what he wants, exactly what he expects. I can’t say that I’m not a little giddy at the thought of Dylan shutting down his hopes of reclaiming the title. And maybe once Dylan wins the ZR1, he’ll feel some closure. At least, that’s my hope for him.

Searching the crowd, I finally spot the STI parked out in the field, its owner propped against it looking back at me. Damn, why did I seek him out?

Bryce waves a hand in front of Dylan’s face then looks towards me, obviously checking to see what has Dylan’s attention.

“Just ignore him, Sadie,” Willow says.

Turning my back to him, I face Willow. “I’m trying.”

We sit, mostly without talking, until it’s time for the final race—the only one the eager crowd is itching to see as the dethroned king returns to claim his prize.

Dylan steers into the right lane, backing up to the starting line. Kyle doesn’t. He takes his time, spinning out the tires in the grassy field before driving onto the track. He backs into the water box, spinning out the tires as his car starts veering off the track. He backs up and does it again. The crowd whoops and hollers as he finally pulls up to the starting line. My heart hammers against my chest as I hold my breath, watching as they get the signal to go.

Stepping closer to the track, my hands cover the smile on my face as Dylan pulls ahead, inching in front of the ZR1. My excitement is short-lived when the ZR1 surges forward, crossing the finish line first.

Kyle won. I can’t move. All I can do is stand there, dumbfounded, and watch as the STI pulls to a jerky stop past the finish line. He remains there while Kyle has his ZR1 doing donuts in the grassy field just off the paved strip.

I was so sure Dylan was going to win. He needed to win for himself, and for Noah.

“I can’t believe it,” Willow breathes as we both watch the aftermath in shock.

She’s not the only one. And from Bryce’s angry yells directed at Dylan, he feels the same.

Kyle drives the ZR1 back onto the pavement, stopping about ten feet away from Dylan, a shitstorm brewing for sure.

Willow and I hurry down the track as the crowd convenes on the old runway, mostly surrounding Kyle as he emerges from his car, howling in victory. I would love to cram my fist in his mouth to shut him up for once.

Dylan reluctantly emerges from his car as Kyle approaches him.

Halting a few feet behind Dylan, I watch as he tosses the key fob to Kyle, who catches it with a twisted grin on his battered face.

“What. The. Fuck. Man?” Bryce yells at Dylan.