Chapter 86

Chapter 86
Blaze

“The fuck is this?”

I mutter it before I even realize I’m saying it. The TV’s on, volume low, but loud enough that I can hear the words I don’t want to hear. Power couple… Carlo Davenport and his fiancée Rebecca stunned guests last night at the charity gala with the official announcement of their engagement…

It’s all over the screen—photos, videos, flashes. Carlo in a black tux, arm locked around her waist, fake fucking smile on his face. Rebecca beaming like she just won a goddamn prize. Their hands held together like it’s all sweet and perfect, and I just sit there watching like some bitter idiot who can’t stop staring at a slow car crash.

There’s a weird ringing in my ears. My chest tightens. Not in a way that makes me want to cry—I’m past that shit—but it makes me want to break something. The glass in my hand trembles just a little before I drop it back on the table.

It feels real now.

Not that it wasn’t before. But this… the news coverage, the smiles, the way everyone’s eating it up like they’ve been rooting for them all along—it hits differently. Like the final fucking nail in the coffin. I told myself I was done. That he didn’t deserve my pain. That whatever we had ended the moment he opened his mouth and let all that cruel shit pour out.

But this makes it permanent. This makes it law.

I lean back on the couch, hands behind my neck, eyes still on the screen even though I want to look away. I don’t. I fucking can’t.

Then there’s a knock.

I ignore it.

Another one—sharper this time. And then the door creaks open without me saying a word. Only two people have the nerve to do that, and I already know which one it is by the sound of those boots.

“Yo,” Alexi’s voice cuts through the room. “We come bearing gifts… and emotional support if needed.”

I don’t move. “Should’ve brought a shotgun and tequila.”

She laughs like it’s a joke, but it’s not. “Got the latter,” she says, holding up a bottle of something dark and dangerous.

Then Felix walks in behind her. That one stings a little.

I haven’t seen him in months. Not since the night he was drunk after Carlo threw him under the bus just to fuck with him. Made him confess shit that wasn’t his to confess. Made it awkward. Made it impossible.

I sit up a bit, wary, but he’s looking at me with the same eyes he always had. Steady. No judgment. No apology either. Just… there.

“You okay?” he asks.

That’s it. No small talk. No fake act like we’re catching up after all this time. Just a simple, honest question.

I nod once. That’s all I give him.

He gets it though, like he always did. Felix never needed a hundred words to understand where my head was. He walks over, and we shake hands like nothing ever changed. Like we’re still fifteen and sneaking out to race bikes in the back alleys.

Alexi flops onto the couch next to me and sets the tequila down like it’s some peace offering. “You see the news?”

I scoff. “You mean the nationwide humiliation broadcast of the year? Yeah, I caught it.”

“Man, fuck that guy,” Alexi mutters. “Let his rich-ass drown in his own bullshit.”

Felix doesn’t say anything. He just sits across from me, watching. His silence is almost louder than Alexi’s anger.

“So,” Alexi shifts the mood. “I got news.”

I raise a brow.

“I pulled some strings. Called in a favor. Got you a spot on Route 419.”

My eyes snap to hers. “You’re fucking kidding.”

“Do I look like I’m joking about the best illegal street circuit in the goddamn state?”

I sit forward, trying to process it. It’s the race. The last place I drove that made my entire life flip. The race that ruined my leg. Before Carlo.

“You serious?” I ask.

She nods. “You’re in. Next month. You gotta train, but it’s yours.”

My heart pounds, and for the first time in what feels like weeks, something inside me shifts. Like a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding finally lets go.

“Why now?” I ask.

Alexi shrugs. “Because you need something that’s yours again. Not tied to him. Not tied to any of this fucked-up bullshit. Just you, your ride, and the road.”

Felix speaks for the first time in a while. “You sure you’re ready for that?”

He doesn’t say it to doubt me. He says it because he knows. He was there. He saw the blood. The way they peeled me off the pavement. The months after where I couldn’t even look at an engine without flinching.

“I’m sure,” I say.

Felix studies me. “No flashbacks? No panic attacks creeping in?”

I give him a half-smile. “Not the kind I can’t handle.”

He nods slowly. “Then we’re with you.”

I look at the two of them—one loud-mouthed and wild, the other quiet but grounded. My people. The ones who stayed or came back even after the chaos.

Alexi leans forward, eyes sharper now. “So we train starting tomorrow. That cool?”

“Yeah,” I say, and it’s the first thing that feels like solid ground beneath me in days.

Still, the TV’s on in the background. Carlo’s name still buzzing in the captions. My chest tugs again, but it’s different now. Not just pain. It’s fire. The kind that fuels me.

“I want to win that race,” I say quietly.

“You will,” Felix says.

Alexi smirks. “Damn right you will.”

I nod. Not because I’m fully healed. Not because I’ve moved on. But because I need to take back something. Even if it’s just one fucking race. One night to feel like I’m not a puppet in Carlo’s stupid legacy game.

“I’ll train,” I say. “Hard.”

Felix smiles a little. “Good. That’s the Blaze I remember.”

I give him a look. “Yeah, well… that Blaze had two working legs.”

He doesn’t laugh. He just leans in. “You still have heart. That’s the part that wins.”

For a second, I feel that crack in my chest again. The place where everything broke. But I bury it. Deep.

Carlo can go play prince with his fake-ass princess. He can wear the suits, sign the deals, smile for the cameras.

I’m done being part of his fucking show.

This time, I’m taking the wheel.

And I’m not crashing.