Chapter 93 Cost of winning

Chapter 93 Cost of winning
Kayla’s POV

The air felt heavier as we lined up on the tracks.

It was the kind of tension that crawled under the skin, the kind that made your heart pound even before the race began. I rolled my shoulders, breathing in slowly, my gaze moving over my teammates one after the other.

“This one,” I whispered as quietly as I could, leaning toward them, “we take first place.”

They looked at me, brows furrowed, sweat already beading on their temples.

“For Mel,” I added softly.

The name alone seemed to settle something between us. Mel, the woman who had run the last lap in the previous race. The woman who should have been here today. The woman who would never run again.

“She deserves that,” my teammate murmured, nodding.

Across the tracks, I could feel Vivian’s presence without looking at her. It was like a static charge in the air, sharp and restless.

The official raised the gun.

My muscles tightened.

Bang.

I exploded forward the second the sound rang out.

The world narrowed into pure motion. The track beneath my feet blurred as I pushed harder, faster, my lungs burning as I cut through the air. I didn’t look back. I didn’t need to. I could feel it.

I was first.

The cheers rose around me as I reached the handoff point, slamming the baton into my teammate’s palm with precision.

“Go!” I shouted.

She took off, legs pumping hard.

I slowed to a stop, chest heaving, eyes snapping to the track again just in time to see Vivian receive her baton.

She had been handed it third.

For a split second, relief flickered in my chest.

Then Vivian ran.

She moved like she had something to prove, like the ground owed her space. Her strides were powerful, her pace ruthless. One by one, she closed the distance, overtaking runners with terrifying ease.

“Damn it,” someone beside me muttered.

By the time she reached the halfway mark, she was already neck and neck with my teammate.

“No, no, no,” I whispered under my breath.

Vivian surged ahead.

When she passed the baton, her team was first.

My jaw clenched.

“She’s unreal,” one of my teammates said breathlessly.

I didn’t respond. I was too focused on what happened next.

As Vivian veered toward her teammate, she stumbled.

Or at least, it looked like she did.

Her foot clipped the path of another racer, causing a brief disruption that nearly sent the other woman sprawling. The move was subtle, clean enough that most people wouldn’t question it.

But I saw it.

My fingers curled into fists.

“She did that on purpose,” I said sharply.

My teammate frowned. “Are you sure?”

“I know her,” I replied coldly.

By the third lap, the gap between our teams had narrowed. Not by much, but enough to make hope flare again.

“Come on,” I breathed, watching our last lap runner prepare.

She was steady. Focused. Strong.

When the baton landed in her hands, she didn’t disappoint.

She chased Vivian’s teammate down with relentless determination, closing the distance inch by inch until, just before the finish line, she surged forward and crossed first.

The stadium erupted.

We screamed, hugging each other, laughter breaking through the exhaustion.

“We did it!” someone shouted.

I let out a shaky breath, relief flooding my chest.

Then the announcer’s voice cut through the noise.

“Attention. After reviewing the results, the judges have declared this race a tie between Kayla’s team and Vivian’s team.”

The words hit like a slap.

“What?” I shouted.

“A tie?” another teammate exclaimed. “How is that possible?”

“They’re saying there’s no definitive first place,” someone else added incredulously.

The announcer continued, “Both teams will be recognized as winners.”

“No,” I said immediately.

That wasn’t acceptable.

Before anyone could stop me, I turned and stormed toward our coach.

“This can’t stand,” I said firmly. “We need to talk to the organizers.”

My coach stared at me like I’d lost my mind. “Kayla, you can’t just—”

“I can,” I cut in. “And I will.”

He hesitated, clearly unconvinced. “They won’t listen to you, Kayla.”

“They’ll listen to me,” I said quietly.

Something in my tone made him pause.

Minutes later, I found myself standing in the organizers’ office. My mother was equally there.

She looked up as I entered, surprise flashing briefly across her face before it hardened into something professional.

“We’re not reopening the race,” one of the organizers said immediately. “The decision is final.”

I took a breath. “You’re ending this wrong.”

They exchanged glances.

“You don’t know what we’re dealing with,” my mother said sharply.

“You’re right,” I replied evenly. “I don’t. But I know your audience.”

Silence followed.

“This competition thrives on spectacle,” I continued. “Kayla versus Vivian has been the heart of it. People want a clear winner. A story they’ll remember.”

One organizer scoffed. “We’ve already done enough.”

“You haven’t,” I countered. “Give them something epic. Something that keeps this race profitable months after today.”

My mother folded her arms. “And what are you offering?”

“A solution,” I said. “One more race. And I’ll personally donate to future charity parties.”

The room went still.

They didn’t like it.

But they couldn’t ignore it either.

“It has to be today,” one of them finally said.

I nodded. “That’s fine.”

When I broke the news to my teammates, the reactions were mixed.

“We’re exhausted,” one of them complained.

“So is Vivian,” I replied. “And that could give us some leverage.”

There were arguments. Protests. Our coach tried to reason with us.

But eventually, the call came.

We were summoned back to the stadium.

The announcer’s voice echoed again.

“The race is not over. To determine first and second place, each tying team will select one racer to compete in a one hundred meter sprint.”

Loud murmurs spread through the crowd.

I felt a flicker of disappointment. “A sprint?” I muttered. “That’s it?”

Our coach, however, looked thoughtful.

“This might work in our favor,” he said.

The team gathered, tension thick between us.

“We should choose one of us. She has the endurance,” the coach said, nodding toward our last lap runner. “She lasts longer.”

“But this isn’t about endurance,” he added quietly. “It’s about speed.”

The coach studied me. “Your acceleration is unmatched Kayla. You should take the race.”

The decision was made.

Everyone placed their hands on my shoulders, murmuring encouragement.

“You’ve got this.”

“For Mel.”

When we were called out, I stepped onto the track and froze.

Vivian stood beside me.

Of course she did.

I scoffed softly. “What did you do to earn the honor of being picked?”

She smirked. “I earned it. Unlike you. I don’t beg for privileges.”

I laughed humorlessly. “Keep telling yourself that.”

As we took our positions, my mind drifted briefly to Steven. To the way he’d watched me race before. I wish he was here this time. 

I exhaled.

Bang.

I launched forward with everything I had.

Vivian did too.

The stadium fell into an eerie silence, the only sounds were our pounding feet and sharp breaths.

We were side by side. Still tied.

Then it happened.

Vivian’s shoulder suddenly slammed into mine.

I stumbled, The world tilted violently as I lost balance, crashing forward onto the track.

Pain exploded through my body.

The last thing I saw before everything blurred was Vivian’s face.

Her eyes were wide… but there was no shock in them.

That bitch!!!