Chapter 187 Into the Tunnel
Chapter 187 Into the Tunnel
The freight district lay beneath a blanket of low clouds.
Cold wind swept through the abandoned shipping yards, carrying the scent of rust, diesel, and rain-soaked concrete. Massive cargo cranes towered over empty warehouses like silent sentinels, their long arms frozen against the gray sky.
Floodlights illuminated the Circuit Trial course.
Unlike the previous races, there were no cheering crowds lining every turn. Much of the route disappeared between narrow industrial streets where towering shipping containers blocked visibility.
It was the perfect place for an ambush.
Zara rolled her motorcycle toward the inspection area.
Officials in black Dominion uniforms examined every competing bike with practiced efficiency. Tires were measured. Fuel tanks were sealed. Brake systems were checked twice.
She watched each inspector carefully.
After what had happened during the previous Trials, she trusted no one.
Samuel approached carrying a small toolbox.
“Everything checks out,” he said quietly.
“I still don’t like this course.”
Zara glanced toward the dark entrance of the freight tunnel in the distance.
“Neither do I.”
Kim joined them moments later, holding a tablet displaying the course layout.
“The tunnel section is longer than the official map showed.”
“How much longer?”
“Almost two hundred extra meters.”
Samuel frowned.
“Why wouldn’t they tell the riders?”
Kim lowered her voice.
“Because someone altered the published route after registration closed.”
Ronan stepped beside them.
His expression remained calm, but Zara recognized the tension in his eyes.
“They’re forcing everyone into a single racing line.”
“No room to overtake.”
“No escape if something goes wrong.”
He looked directly at Zara.
“If anything feels wrong…”
“…don’t finish the lap.”
Samuel stared at him.
“You’re telling her to abandon the race?”
“I’m telling her to stay alive.”
Zara met Ronan’s gaze.
“And if the evidence we need is inside that tunnel?”
Ronan hesitated.
“Then we find another way.”
She shook her head gently.
“We both know there isn’t another way.”
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Finally, Ronan reached into his jacket and handed her a tiny communication device no larger than a coin.
“It operates on a private frequency.”
“No Dominion relay can intercept it.”
She slipped it inside her racing suit.
“You’ve been preparing for this.”
“I’ve been preparing to lose contact.”
Samuel looked between them.
“I really don’t like the sound of that.”
A loud siren interrupted the conversation.
The marshal’s voice echoed across the freight yard.
“All competitors report to the starting grid.”
Riders climbed onto their motorcycles one after another.
Engines thundered to life.
The vibration rolled through the abandoned warehouses like distant artillery.
High above the course, inside a temporary glass control room, Marcus stood watching the preparations through binoculars.
One of his advisers approached.
“The team is in position.”
Marcus never looked away from the starting line.
“And our observers?”
“Waiting inside the tunnel.”
“They’ll report the moment she enters.”
Marcus nodded once.
“No interference unless absolutely necessary.”
The adviser looked surprised.
“I thought the objective was to eliminate her.”
Marcus smiled faintly.
“No.”
“The objective is to see whether Ronan has told her everything.”
Below, Zara settled into the third starting position.
She lowered her visor.
The world narrowed to the strip of asphalt stretching ahead.
The countdown lights illuminated one by one.
Red.
Red.
Red.
She wrapped her fingers tighter around the throttle.
Somewhere ahead, hidden within the darkness of the freight tunnel, the next piece of the truth was waiting.
And so was someone who would do anything to keep it buried.
The final red light blinked.
Silence settled over the starting grid.
Then—
Green.
Twenty-two motorcycles launched forward in a deafening roar, rear tires clawing at the wet asphalt as they surged through the opening straight. Zara accelerated smoothly instead of aggressively, keeping her motorcycle stable while several riders fought for position before the first corner.
Exactly as she expected.
Two competitors squeezed each other too tightly entering Turn One. One drifted wide, forcing another onto the painted runoff. Precious seconds disappeared as they struggled to recover.
Zara slipped between them with precise control.
By the second corner, she had already climbed into second place.
Samuel watched the timing screens from the pit lane.
“She’s doing it again.”
Kim smiled.
“She’s letting everyone else make mistakes.”
Ronan remained focused on the live GPS display.
“Not yet.”
His voice stayed low.
“The dangerous part hasn’t started.”
The course left the main freight yard and entered a maze of abandoned warehouses.
Concrete walls rose on both sides.
The echo of engines bounced through the narrow streets, making it impossible to judge where another rider was approaching from.
Zara stayed close behind the race leader.
She had no intention of passing yet.
Instead, she studied him.
His braking points.
His acceleration.
The slight hesitation before every left-hand corner.
Information was as valuable as speed.
Ahead, warning lights flashed.
TUNNEL – 500 METERS.
Her heartbeat slowed instead of quickening.
She welcomed the calm.
Fear caused mistakes.
Focus kept riders alive.
Inside the control room, Marcus folded his arms as the motorcycles approached the tunnel.
“Everyone is in position?”
One technician nodded.
“Yes.”
“And Ronan?”
“He hasn’t moved from pit lane.”
Marcus looked through the glass.
“Good.”
“Then we’ll finally see how much he trusts her.”
Ronan pressed a finger against his earpiece.
“Zara.”
“I hear you.”
“The tunnel begins in thirty seconds.”
“I know.”
“Remember what we discussed.”
A faint smile touched her lips beneath the helmet.
“You mean surviving?”
“I mean thinking before reacting.”
The tunnel entrance swallowed the motorcycles in darkness.
Floodlights mounted along the ceiling cast long shadows across the damp concrete.
Water dripped steadily from overhead pipes.
The sound of engines became almost unbearable.
Visibility dropped instantly.
The rider in first accelerated harder.
Too hard.
Zara noticed it immediately.
He wasn’t trying to win.
He was trying to create distance.
From what?
Then she saw it.
About a hundred meters ahead, something shimmered across the road.
Not water.
Wire.
A nearly invisible steel cable stretched low across part of the tunnel, anchored to two maintenance posts.
Any rider hitting it at full speed would lose control instantly.
Zara’s instincts took over.
She flashed her headlight repeatedly.
The leader glanced back, confused.
Too late.
He clipped the cable with his front wheel.
The motorcycle lurched violently, throwing sparks as it slammed against the tunnel wall.
The rider rolled across the asphalt.
Zara reacted in a heartbeat.
She shifted left, narrowly clearing the cable by inches before leaning hard into the next bend.
Behind her, several riders braked violently.
Others collided in the confusion.
The tunnel filled with the screech of tires and grinding metal.
“Crash!”
Samuel shouted.
The timing monitors lit up with warning signals.
Kim’s face turned pale.
“Five riders have stopped moving.”
Ronan grabbed his radio.
“Emergency crews now!”
His eyes never left Zara’s tracker.
Still moving.
Still leading.
He released a slow breath.
Inside the tunnel, Zara fought to steady her breathing.
This wasn’t random.
Someone had deliberately turned the course into a death trap.
As she exited the tunnel into daylight, she caught sight of a maintenance gate standing slightly open.
A man dressed in road crew overalls slipped through it and disappeared before anyone else seemed to notice.
She couldn’t chase him.
The race came first.
But she memorized his build.
His walk.
Even the orange stripe running down one sleeve.
She would recognize him again.
Ahead, the final sector of the course opened before her.
For the first time since the green flag had dropped—
Zara took the lead.
And somewhere behind the safety fences, the unknown man removed his helmet, made a brief phone call, and spoke only four words.
“She survived the tunnel.”