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When the door closes behind her, I turn the page.Chapter One.
The sound of the electric motorcycles mixed with the roar of people screaming and dancing to the music sink into my bones. It's race day. The main event is about to start. The teleprompter at the back of the arena begins to play “Humble” by Skrillex.
I gently squeeze Niro's hand with my gloved fingers as I approach the racers’ area. Ciro can't be here with me because Killian is racing tonight. I look to my left, and Ethan gives me a slight nod to keep walking.
After I had Niro, I ran into him one day outside the fortune teller's door and told him what I had done. He understood and was relieved we could remain friends, but Ciro doesn't like him and only tolerates him for my benefit. But right now, I need him to keep an eye on Niro while I race. Ciro usually watches him, but he will be with Killian's crew.
"I'll be in the same place like always," Ethan says loud enough for me to hear him above all the chaos.
I nod because I have a black helmet with a tinted black face shield, and he can't hear me. I look up at the device in my hand with an augmented screen. The untraceable kind we all have on the mainland. This is the main sport nowadays. I recognize a couple of the men from the island, heading to watch the race inside the dark glassed boxes up top when I first walked up the main entrance. They place their bets like everyone else in their imposing dark suits and dark glasses.Hypocrites.
I have found that off the island, this is their playground. Drugs, women, and betting. All the dirty shit they don't want people to know they are into is done here. They live double lives, so they don't think much of Killian when he comes and goes. Killian makes sure the things he's into goes undetected.
I watch as people dance to the music as they wait for the next race. Women with scraps of clothes that basically only cover their tits and pussy. The men have piercings and tattoos all over their skin, wearing skintight pants and chains around their necks. Intricate haircuts and their favorite racer’s name painted on their skin. The men and women have my race name PYRALIS painted on their chest and stomach.
This is a different life than the one I grew up in, but it's reality, not the throne full of deceit they feed you on the island. The only challenge for Niro and me is staying hidden on the mainland.
I press the button on the headset in my helmet, and the screen pops up on the face shield so it can connect to the bike when I turn it on. The heads-up display gives me the speed and gears I can shift on with the amount of energy powering up the bike. An understated electric pulse, like a gentle electronic heartbeat, isan audible cue that the rider and the vehicle are ready to go. The propulsion system makes a quiet humming noise once in motion, similar to the background buzz of a scientific research facility. Thelow, soothing rumble serves as a seamless aural background that complements the sounds of the area.
I tap Niro's helmet; he gives me a thumbs-up, telling me he is okay with holding Ethan's hand. I motion to my heart with my fingers and make a heart symbol with both my hands, telling him I love you. My heart warms when he mimics the same thing.
I love you, Niro. More than life itself.
I make sure he waits with Ethan at a safe distance and walk up to my bike at the finish line with the other riders making obscene gestures with hands on their dicks, but there is one I notice out of all the others.
Kill.
His face is broadcast over the gigantic screen, announcing his return to face me and the rest. I try not to let my hands tremble under his scrutiny. He's wearing is signature mask with the word LORD in dripping red paint, but the L is backward.
I shake my gloved hands, feeling my blood pumping through my fingers.
I let out a shaky breath.
He can't see me.
He can't see you, Lillith. All he knows is that you're some chick named Pyralis.
But it doesn't shake the panic taking over me or the sudden drop in my stomach at him being so near me after so long. A shaky breath full of terror escapes my lips, reminding me of who Killian is and the fact that his son is only a couple of feet away.
I swing my leg over my bike and lean forward, placing my thick-soled boots on the paved road of the track as the motorcycle's noise builds gradually. Like a conductor, the bike takes raw force and orchestrates performance. I let out a shaky breath when I turn my head slightly to get a glimpse of Killian's strong thighs over the beast of his black motorcycle. It lights up in blue with a soft illumination, recognizing his presence through advanced biometric sensors. His seat is composed of memory foam and responsive materials that molds itself to the contours of his strong legs, warranting optimal body positioning. His strong, muscled arms grip the handles, showing ever-detailed biceps. The tight black shirt he's wearing with the carbon fiber covering his spine in case he suffers a fall doesn't hide his six-pack or the muscles of his shoulders. His bike is a work of art, and I know from racing that he designed it. He built it.
His black helmet is in place over his head. He turns to the left and presses the screen on his watch, and I see the signal glitch on my visor.
Fuck, he hacked into my headset.
"Like what you see? I'm sure you'll like the view of the back when I smoke your ass."
Asshole.
I glance over to the sidelines and see Blair, Sydney, and Sarah cheering for him on the sideline with Ciro and their crew. Blair has his number and Kill painted on her face and chest. Anger and jealousy consume me like a wildfire, forming a red haze of fury.
I place my bike in gear, revving it to have enough power. The fuel cell is good, and I know kicking his ass will be fun. I lift my hand and turn my head in his direction. His helmet turns, and I stick my middle finger up and twirl it in a circle.
"Sorry, princess. I'm taken," he says through my headset.
My heart sinks, but I shake it off. Hewas never mine.
He never loved you, Lillith.
