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“Looks like everyone’s here,” he says with a laugh, glancing out my window.

I turn my head. The guys are there. Sierra. And Thalia.

Earlier, when I told Thalia I’d be racing with Zayn, she was stunned. She reminded me of the furious scolding I’d thrown her way the night I bailed her out of jail after one of these reckless stunts. Then panic had set in, and with it, a flood of protests about danger, about not wanting either of us hurt.

A thousand promises later, I let her into the living room with the others, assuring her I’d be careful.

Yet here she is, against all odds, standing by.

Zayn revs the engine, the vibrations coursing through our bodies, thrilling every nerve. I catch Thalia’s eyes and wink, a silent promise, before turning to Zayn with a firm nod.

He pulls forward toward the starting line, slipping in beside the other cars—seven in total. The largest boulevard in New York is our track tonight, partially blocked off, wholly illegal. January 1st offers minimal traffic, but enough to keep danger real.

“Let’s switch places,” Zayn says, his tone piercing enough to make me still.

“What?” I manage, my voice tight, shock evident on my face.

“You heard me,” he replies, already loosening his seatbelt. “Now. Quickly.”

Without another word, he pushes the door open and steps out.

I fumble with my own seatbelt, fingers moving fast, but before I can even reach for the handle, my door is already yanked open from the outside.

“What are you doing?” I ask as I step out, the cold air hitting me all at once.

He doesn’t answer. He simply slides into the passenger seat and seals the door shut like this was always the plan.

I throw my head back for a second, eyes closing briefly. I should’ve seen this coming.

“What the hell are you doing?” Colt’s voice cuts through the noise from somewhere to the right.

“Fucking hell, man,” Liam follows immediately.

“Ethan…”

Her voice doesn’t rise above the others, doesn't try to compete—but it reaches me anyway, threading through the chaos, soft and fragile, carrying more weight than any shout ever could.

I turn my head instantly.

Thalia looks… terrified. Not just worried—terrified in a way that squeezes something deep in my chest. Sierra stands close to her, speaking, trying to calm her down, but she doesn’t look much better herself.

Fuck.

I’m going to kill Zayn.

My gaze flickers briefly to the guys, one by one, just long enough for them to understand what I’m not saying out loud.

Take care of her.

Then I move.

I circle the car quickly, slide into the driver’s seat, and shut the door, the world outside dulling into a muted roar as I pull the belt across my chest and lock it in place.

“Have you lost your mind?” I ask, my tone low but sharp as I glance at Zayn.

He doesn’t even look remotely concerned. “You know how good you are, Ethan.”

“I haven’t done this in years,” I shoot back, jaw tight.