Chapter 18 Chapter eighteen
The starting line evaporated in a haze of white smoke and the high-pitched shriek of Elena’s turbine. I felt the Norton’s front wheel fight the ground as the new Engine engaged, the variable-compression valves adjusting in a heartbeat to handle the sudden, massive torque. The power was unlike anything I had ever felt a raw, surging force that wanted to tear the handlebars from my grip. I didn't fight it; I leaned into it, becoming the missing link in the machine’s evolution.
Elena was a silver streak ahead of me, her white-clad riders fanning out like a defensive wall. They weren't just racing; they were tacticians, blocking the narrow lanes between the towering stacks of shipping containers. I shifted into fourth, the engine’s growl deepening into a predatory roar.
"Stay on her six, Mia!" Dax’s voice crackled through my helmet, though I could barely hear him over the wind. "The first turn is a ninety-degree left. They’re going to try to pinch you against the crane supports!"
I saw the maneuver developing before it happened. Two of the white riders braked hard, angling their bikes to close the gap. I didn't slow down. I tapped the override switch I’d installed on the mapping, forcing the Engine into its high-compression phase prematurely. The Norton lunged forward, a violent burst of speed that carried me through the gap before they could seal it. I felt the heat of their exhaust against my leg as I shot past, the crane supports a blur of rusted iron.
Elena looked back, her mirrored visor reflecting the chaos she had left behind. She realized then that I wasn't riding a prototype anymore; I was riding a finished masterpiece. She tilted her bike, diving into the labyrinth of the wharf with a clinical precision that made my blood run cold. She knew these docks every oil slick, every loose plate of steel.
We tore through a narrow alleyway formed by stacked containers, the sound of our engines bouncing off the metal walls in a deafening crescendo. Elena was using the turbine to gain ground on the short straightaways, but the Norton’s agility in the corners was keeping me within striking distance.
"The lighthouse is a mile out!" Dax warned. "But there’s a drawbridge in the middle. It’s scheduled to rise for the morning freighter. If you don't make it across in the next thirty seconds, you’re cut off!"
I saw the warning lights of the bridge flashing red in the distance. The heavy steel leaves were already beginning to groan, the gap between them widening inch by inch. Elena didn't hesitate. She pushed her turbine to the limit, her bike lifting off the asphalt as she cleared the rising edge of the bridge with a terrifying grace. She landed on the far side, her tires smoking, and kept going without a backward glance.
I looked at the gap. It was four feet wide and growing.
"Mia, don't!" Dax’s voice was a panicked shout now. "Pull up! It’s too wide!"
I ignored him. I tucked my chin to the tank, my heart hammering against the frame. I didn't just need speed; I needed the perfect compression ratio to launch the weight of the Norton. I hit the bridge at a hundred miles per hour. The Engine screamed, the valves hitting their peak efficiency just as the tires left the metal.
For a second, the world was silent. I was airborne, suspended over the dark, churning water of the harbor. Then, the rear tire slammed into the rising edge of the far leaf. The impact jarred my teeth, the bike wobbling dangerously as it fought for traction on the slick steel. I wrestled the bars, my muscles screaming, and forced the Norton back into a straight line.
I was across. And Elena was less than fifty yards ahead.
She was approaching the final stretch a long, straight run toward the lighthouse at the end of the point. She engaged the turbine’s full boost, a blue flame licking from her exhaust as she pulled away. She thought the race was over. She thought the tech had won.
But she didn't understand the secret of the Engine. It wasn't just about compression; it was about the recovery of energy. I hit the final toggle, the one my father had labeled Revenge in the blueprints. The Norton didn't just accelerate; it transformed. The sound changed from a roar to a pure, crystalline hum as the system recycled its own heat into pure thrust.
I passed her at the base of the lighthouse, a black-and-silver shadow that left her white leathers standing still. I crossed the finish line and slammed on the brakes, the Norton skidding in a perfect 180-degree turn as I brought it to a halt in a cloud of white smoke.
Elena rolled to a stop a second later. She sat on her bike for a long time, her chest heaving. She pulled off her helmet, her hair damp with sweat, and looked at me with an expression that was a haunting mix of hatred and pride.
"He really did it," she whispered, her voice trembling. "He perfected the cycle. He gave the secret to a girl who plays with grease and bikers."
I dismounted, my legs feeling like lead, and walked toward her. The Iron Wolves were already cresting the bridge, Dax at the front, his face a mask of pure relief as he saw me standing.
"The race is over, Elena," I said, my voice cold. "Now give me the truth. Why did he hide you? Why did he lie?"
Elena looked at the lighthouse, then back at me. "Because I wasn't the one who wanted the Engine, Mia. I was the one who was going to sell it to the people who killed him. He didn't hide me to protect you from the world. He hid you to protect the world from me."
Before I could respond, a black sedan with tinted windows pulled onto the pier, followed by four more.
"The truth is a heavy thing, Mia," Elena said, her eyes turning back into the cold mirrors I remembered. "And now that you have it, you’re the only thing standing between these people and the future of warfare. I hope your President is as good as he thinks he is."
The car doors opened, and men in suits not bikers, not mercenaries, but government operatives stepped out, their badges glinting in the morning sun.