I took the exit labeled for Keihaki, and found a gas station to rest at. I figured I’d top off my tank just in case I found anything, and began a search for any sign of sports cars or street racers. I was in a more commercial district first, and I could see the lights of the city in the distance glitter beyond the tall office buildings surrounding me. I shifted the Dart back into gear and rolled past some various shops and nightclubs, and figured if anywhere, I could find cars racing nearby on old unused service roads or anything abandoned looking.

I think I finally hit the jackpot when I saw a Corolla with a body kit and a wing riding low past a few clubs. I kept my distance and casually peered around corners to see if anything was amiss. I began hearing the signature sound of loud engines, definitely not stock engines, fade into my awareness and bounce off the buildings around me. It made it sound like ghostly cars were driving all around me. I watched the Corolla turn onto a side road to a decrepit looking parking garage, waited a bit at a stop sign, and I pretended to look for a rock in my treads before driving off again.

Two sparkling older corvettes, one orange and one yellow, with splitters and wings came down the adjacent road and drove off in the direction of the multi-story parking garage. I could see the garage that was full of cars with their lights on, glittering like stars on the road below. As I drove into the parking garage, a dim warm light filled the complex to reveal groups of cars parked at the edge of the shadows. Crowds of people walked by or stood nearby their car, puffing their chest out as they flaunted their rides.

I drove slowly down the aisles of parked cars with my windows down and could hear talk of what mechanics to visit, cool shops that had the right mods, and where to see the best races or autocross.

A voice called out towards me as I passed them on my driver’s side. “Hey, you new here?” A dark skinned young man nodded toward me from his spot leaning across a black McLaren P1. His buddies on each side of him in a Chiron and a Viper paused to look at me.

I put the Dart in park and rolled down the window. “Yeah. Don’t race near here.”

“Thought so. We don’t get people with Miroches driving around here. They’re all up at their ritzy racing center.” I felt a twinge of panic as he mentioned the very place I had just decided to ditch.

“Oh, yeah? They’re missing out.” I lifted my brows in false surprise.

“Yeah man. Can’t imagine being stuck in those stuffy offices half the time and having to listen to someone tell us how to race. Out here we don’t care man, we just drive.”

I couldn’t repress the tilted smile growing on my face. “So, any races going on tonight?”

The man laughed. “There’s racing every night man. What are you looking for?” They weren’t lying when they said Keihaki was the land of racing. Everyone here looks like they either go to track everyday or they never left the track in the first place. A thought came to me quickly. “Hmm, Anyone doing cross country?” Calling it touring or endurance like the professionals did would give me away. I could feel my highschool self come crawling out of the woodwork now.

“Y’mean somethin’ like the Bullet Run?” I nodded. The Bullet Run, one of the longest sprint races that crossed from North Tento to South Luvira. Lots of underground racers had their own version of the race that crossed their own home towns and cities, nothing quiet topping the Bullet Run though. The man looked up at the dark sky while he thought before turning to the girl in the Viper.

“Hey Thorn, isn’t the Phantom Chase tonight?”

The girl tilted her head. “Yeah yeah! You can check out the Phantom Chase if you like really long races! It starts at the old airport here and heads down to GoldBank.”

The McLaren owner nodded and chimed in. “You know where the abandoned airport is out here?”

“No, this is my first time in Keihaki.” I wasn’t lying, but I felt a bit uneasy trying to sound nonchalant, as if I hadn’t street raced extensively before. Just act casual… “I used to live

nearby, but never got to come this far.”

“Shit man, I’ll show ya then. Come on racer.” The McLaren guy slid into his car, quickly

starting it up before spinning the car around with a quick screech of the tires to drive down the aisle out of the garage.

We drove 15 minutes out to an old abandoned airport. It was small, but the runway had been turned into the starting grid, and there were mechanic’s tents scattered around the starting line. The runway was decorated with neon string lights, colorful signs and banners. The McLaren driver slowed down as a car approached in the oncoming lane.

A man with blue dyed hair in a Nismo GTR drove up and greeted the McLaren driver as he passed by. “Hey brother! Just in time!”

“Ay, I’m not racing tonight G, I’m here with a newbie. Wanted a cross country race tonight.” Hah, ‘newbie’. I nodded a greeting to the GTR driver through the window.

“Ah, sick! Come on, I’ll show you where you can get ready and meet the other racers. I’ll come with ya! And hey, don’t forget to stash that street plate, you don’t want to get your picture taken with that on.” Oh, it’s really on.

I waved goodbye to the McLaren guy and the GTR driver helped get me set up at one of the small tents to get some more fuel and was offered some fresh tires. I gave in, they were good tires going for a good price, and brand new tires would give me the advantage. I already wore out these ones anyway. I stood back and the Dart was put up on a lift beside the GTR who got fresh treads as well. The blue haired driver leaned back on a tool box and tilted his head to speak to me.

“You race much at all?” He gestured toward my old tires laying in a corner, a common sporty tire brand.

I just shrugged nonchalantly. “Sure. I practice enough.” We exited the tents in our cars once we were done with the tire job and were sent to line up with everyone else.

“Start your engines!” An announcer’s voice came in over a speaker sitting on the back of a bucket truck with his boom arm holding it high. A chorus of engines starting up roared throughout the old landing strip. I could barely hear over the sound, but the lights suspended over the runway told me just when to gas it. We all launched, tires screeching and some smoke rising into the air as we all left. It was messy, just the way I liked it. I managed to hold my place behind the group of cars in the first few grids ahead of me, and I floated beside the GTR.

“Just stay by me! I’ll lead ya!” I nodded and kept up with the GTR while we shot down the highway and onto the freeway. “We take the interstate into Silkeholt first. This is the most dangerous part, Silkeholt is crowded! Cops are everywhere.” Well, it was the capital of the state after all. Good thing I still have this light kill switch installed. Goodnight, and goodbye.

Unsurprisingly, the cops had spotted the tail end of the race when we got to Silkeholt, but when we took the off ramp to a freeway to head south, the cops lost us or gave up. Or maybe they caught someone. I didn’t bother checking. The GTR driver and I climbed up to 6th and 7th place coming out of Silkeholt. After that was a pitstop in rural Westwind, Meimo. A few cars bypassed it. But they might be struggling for gas later.

Cars raced to get a spot at the pumps first and fuel up first before everyone else. Luckily it was completely empty. The GTR and I both got a good spot being so far ahead and left off early. Now we both took 4th and 5th place as we cruised peacefully out of Westwind, down towards Lakeside, and into Starbound. I felt a sense of comfort driving through Starbound again. I used to race out there nearly every night for the Shooting Star Sprint or whatever else was close by. I was lucky to never get seriously caught. Either me going ghost or my pleasant attitude was enough to get away with just a warning.

The GTR driver swept across a few lanes to get close enough for me to hear him. “We’ve got one last pit stop and then it’s everyone for themself ‘til we get to the finish line in GoldBank!” To get to GoldBank, we’d go through southern Killead on the interstate. Killead is where my old racing center was, but I don’t think they can see a hundred miles south to come tattle on me.

I pulled into 2nd with the GTR right behind me, and I gave the blue haired guy a friendly narrowed glance through the windows as I rode the 1st place Audi R8’s draft. I focused on swinging through the long sweeping turns right behind him, taking the inside with him and swooping to the outside to keep speed. It was much easier here to race without skidding on the smooth 4 lane highway compared to the skinny practice tracks I was accustomed to. The R8 driver was taking the outside of a wide and fast turn, my strong suit, close to the highway barrier but not quite touching it. I managed to scrape by him, shooting between him and the barrier without so much as a graze, and shifted gears as I blew past him as I barely touched the brakes. I looked back at the R8 driver in my side mirrors and he just gave me a sly sideways grin as his brake lights flashed on behind him as he tried to avoid hitting the barrier.

“Ay! You know where you're going, newbie?!” The GTR’s voice called out somewhere behind me in the wind.

I laughed and called out, “No!” I looked back at the GTR in my mirror and he was laughing too.

“Take exit 35B and go straight! Look for the neon lights at the abandoned warehouses, can’t miss them! They’ll have cars lighting the way for ya!”

After taking the exit, I quickly spotted a runway of pink and blue lights lighting the street to the warehouses. As we got closer, I could see the sun just begin peeking over the buildings and some cars holding banners in their wheels. I braked hard to take the last 90 degree turn at the end of the highway and made a break for it down the straightaway. There was a checkered line crudely painted onto the concrete floor of the open warehouse, and I watched as the cars behind me got closer and closer to my tail as I shot across the finish line.

I got out of the car once I came to a stop at the end of one of the warehouses where other cars were parked. The blue haired GTR driver caught up with me after a few others had crossed the finish line and walked up to me.

“Hey! Awesome job newbie for winning your first Phantom Chase!” He gave me a hearty pat on the back and offered a handshake before walking off. I smiled as best as I could with how tired I was after the drive, and some people on the sidelines who came to spectate the end of the race jumped the barriers and approached the finishers with cheering and some cameras.

“What’s your name?!” One girl in a crop top held a phone out to video record.

A teenaged looking boy aimed a camera at me. “How do you feel about being the first ever Miroche to compete and win the Phantom Chase?” My heart beat fast and hard with excitement as a flood of thrill overcame me. I didn’t know where to look as a million voices shouted around me. Another young man with platinum hair, holding one of those large big lensed cameras, focused on me as an announcer with a gaudy gold suit jacket and a microphone pushed a little golden trophy into my hands.

“Now, where did a kid like you learn to race like that?!” I couldn’t help but smile as I just told them I raced with an old group of mine. I hadn’t felt that thrill since college.

“What kind of mods does that Dart have?” A chorus of questions still came from the crowd and I backed up as I tried to answer some of them.

“Who are you? We haven’t seen you around here. How did you get so good?” I felt a tickle of fear in the back of my throat. I wasn’t keen on telling them my name. As the adrenaline and excitement subsided, my knees started shaking and I felt tired. An ache pulsed in my chest as I realized what I had just done. Now my competition license and career might be at stake. I couldn’t tell these people who I was, I was just a runaway here. I couldn’t be the same kid that so badly needed this professional racing gig.

“I-I’m Kai, I go by Kai. I raced out of Starbound with the guys over there before.” Kai was the name I used when I was young and dumb, burning rubber in back alleys and empty parking lots in college with my idiot friends. Up until I totaled my old car. I hoped the grounded answer would satisfy them.

“Are you related to Dean Mercer?” My heart seized the second I heard my name—my real name—thrown out like a flare over the noise. For a moment, all sound narrowed, the noise of a hundred voices dimming under the weight of that question. I’d done everything to bury anything associated with that name. I changed my look. I lost weight, cut my hair, my autoimmune disorder even changed its color. Hell, I even let people think Kai had just bought the Dart off me years ago when really I had put it away in storage when I joined the racing academy. It wasn’t uncommon, plenty of familiar looking cars ended up in the hands of unfamiliar drivers once the old owner got tired and wanted a new toy. I was hoping that lie would hold.

I looked over the crowd for the person who spoke that forbidden question, and a tall fair skinned man in a black button down shirt was approaching me with another camera and a boom mic.

I stepped back trying to get some personal space back. “What? W-who is Dean—?”

Someone in the crowd nearby shouted. “He was one of the best racers in Starbound before he ditched his crew! He drove a blue Dart, just like that one! Do you know him?” Suddenly I regret never getting that wrap on the Dart I wanted. My legs were definitely visibly shaking now, and my body felt light which made my head spin. I was breathing harder and my face felt hot.

The blue haired guy pushed through the crowd to my rescue. “Hey! Give the guy space! He just finished the Phantom Chase for the first time! Move! Move! Get him in a tent! Kid’s goin’ into shock! Get some water for me STAT!” The blue haired guy held a hand across my back as he guided me between the paparazzi. He held his other arm out like a shield and pushed through the crowd. “Ay! Get the guy some water and a snack! Hey, move it already! Driver needs to cool off!”

I settled into one of the tents propped up under the abandoned warehouse and was given some saltines to snack on and water. I began feeling better and my breathing returned to normal. The weight eased off my chest but didn’t go away.

“So man, you plan on sticking around here or heading back to Keihaki?”

“I actually have to head up to Silkeholt back in Akime. I have some business there.” I shrugged and he gave me a somber smile. He gave me a hearty pat on the back before leaving me alone in the tent.

I spent some time socializing with the drivers once I finished my snack and walked out to where they hung out at the back of the warehouse where they had parked their cars. They were a much more calm group of people, that is until someone sprinted into the warehouse, sneakers squeaking as they grabbed a wall to stop themselves in their tracks.

“Police! Police are here! Scatter!” There was the pounding of a thousand footsteps as everyone ran to their cars. Engines roared as and tires screeched as everyone rushed to peel out of the warehouse and drive as fast as they could out of here. The blue haired guy glanced at me from across the warehouse, pausing before he drove away.

“Run Kai! Abandoned gas station on 8th due south! Blue, can’t miss it! Go inside the shop!” I raised a hand in a sort of salute in thanks before throwing myself into the driver’s seat of the dart, not bothering to buckle as I started it up and peeled out of the warehouse and launched the car down the street.

I looked behind me and could see a few cars following suit, trying to find a place to hide or run away to. I flicked the light kill switch and was swallowed by darkness. My eyes scanned the roads, looking at the street signs for a place labeled ‘8th’. I kept checking behind me as my heart thumped anxiously, and I noticed a sleek black SUV, not too different from Ace’s cruiser, seemingly following my path. Undercover? Shit. I kept turning down random roads, skidding through tight turns to try and shake off whoever was following me while I looked for this gas station. I considered only for a moment just running, but that was asking for the cops to lay a spike strip. I braked hard, downshifted, and shot off down another street but this car was still hot on my trail. I blew through a red light, but when it had changed to yellow above me and glowed a bit brighter, I realized the sign next to it read 8th. I spun the wheel hard to the left, south bound according to my GPS. I looked for a driveway on the side of the road as I flew down the straightaway and spotted a blue gas station sign. I upshifted, trying to keep the rpms as low as I could to keep quiet. I braked hard as I approached the entrance to avoid catching air on the curb going down, and swept around an old gas pump. I realized how someone must’ve hid here without getting caught. There was an abandoned drive through car wash tunnel around the back of the corner store. I parked the car in there, and hopped out and sprinted for the store.

I stopped once the door closed behind me and scanned the room. I let my eyes adjust to the darkness a bit before I quickly jogged behind the cashier’s counter. I lowered myself to the floor, crouching on the tips of my toes and breathed lightly. Over the top of the counter, I could see the lights of what had to be a car casting shadows across the room as they pulled up to the store. The lights shut off and I could hear the door click open and then snap shut. I heard the front door creak open, and a single set of footsteps echoed around the corner store. My heart jolted inside my chest, nearly making me fall over, as a beam of light swept across the room over my head. The cops are here.

The light scanning the room grew dim for only a second before I was blinded suddenly. The flashlight turned the corner around the counter and I squinted through the beam of light in my eyes. I held a hand up to shield my eyes as I tried to make out whoever was standing before me.

“Smokey.” A gravelly voice hissed out my name. “Sorry, I meant, uh ‘Kai’ was it?” The flashlight shut off and my eyes refocused. My heart seized up again as I was face to face with a familiar, gruff, well dressed man.

“Lance?! Where did—? H-how did you—?” I looked up and rubbed my eyes as they adjusted from the lights again.

Lance huffed out a taunting laugh. “You think Ace kept your note a secret? ‘Specially when we’re all worried ‘bout ya? When you said you were going to Keihaki, you realize I’d know exactly why you went there of all places?”

“I didn’t expect him to keep it a secret. I just thought he’d take longer to get back to his dorm. How did you know what race I was at? There’s probably a thousand going on— We’re like a thousand miles away from Keihaki!” I had ended up in GoldBank, a rural western town 502 miles away.

“We found that little car meetup at the parking garage. I went in by myself, asked for a kid with brown and blond hair, perhaps driving a Miroche. Said they only saw one Miroche in their whole lives there, and it was just last night. Would you imagine that! They seemed pretty excited. Wasn’t hard to find what race you were in after that. Those kids in the parking garage said no Miroche ever did the Phantom before. Had a couple undercover cops roll up to the airstrip just to see who all was there. They saw you gettin’ in and out of that Dart of yours.”

“I-I—” I stuttered as I tried to collect my thoughts and ease my heart that felt like it was going to beat so hard it stopped. My anxiety was going through the roof and I was still a bit hot and tired from the race.

“H-how did you catch me? I’ve been going almost 130 the entire time.”

“Yes, but you’d be surprised how fast cop cars can really be when they want.” I suddenly remembered the police last night at the start of the run.

“Was… Was that you in the beginning? With the cops back in Silkeholt?”

“Sure, Ace made a call to some friends. You all lost us pretty quick, but everyone was too busy mucking around at the end and the police are no stranger to the Phantom’s route. And if you don’t get your ass back in Miroche’s, you’re going to be seeing them again.”

“A-alright alright.” I stood up rapidly and braced on the counter, my head getting light for a second.

“Good choice. Now you only need to worry about Miroche.”

“Tch. They’re bad enough. Thought I was done with them. I thought I wasn’t your driver anymore anyways? I’m not your responsibility.” Lance began walking off toward the car he had parked outside. Now that I could see it clearly, it was Ace’s cruiser.

“Legally, I’m still in charge of you. Paperwork hasn’t even been written, much less signed off on.” Lance turned back to me, still in the doorway. “Stop lagging behind, get your ass over here right now before I drag you over here myself.” I grimaced and felt my stomach drop to my feet as the rush I had from the night’s events faded. Guilt ripped through my body and formed a series of knots in my chest.

“You coming? Or do I need to drag you?” Lance opened the passenger’s door, turning to look at me.

“What about my car?”

I could see Lance clench his jaw. “Where is it?”

I nodded my head toward the back of the store. “Inside the old car wash.” Lance sighed, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll call a tow. You are not driving that thing anywhere. Now get in the car.” I walked up to the cruiser and slid into the passenger seat. Lance walked around to the other side and plopped into the driver’s seat. I turned my head towards the window, leaning an elbow on the edge of the door. I listened as Lance called a tow truck before waiting in silence.

My mouth was dry while we waited for the tow truck to come. I desperately wanted some water but was too nervous to even ask Lance if he had any. Lance told me sternly not to move before getting out to greet the tow truck driver outside once he arrived. I tuned out whatever they talked about, just staring off at the lights of buildings in the distance. They could go and flatten the old Dart for all I cared. Once the Dart was up on the tow truck bed, Lance hopped back in the cruiser.

“I’m sorry.” I hung my head and let it lean against the window.

“Pff, for what? Ruining your career? Don’t say sorry to me, that’s all your fault, and you’re the one who’ll pay for it if anyone aside from me and Ace finds out. You’re real damn lucky I’m not trying to get you charged with anything.” The cruiser started up, and Lance began driving back the way we had come.

“No, I know that. I meant for being a piece of shit.” I turned my head just enough to look over at Lance.

“What?” Lance spoke with disbelief.

“I’m sorry for being a dick to you.” He just huffed like he didn’t believe me. “I believe you, Chief. There. You kept up with me on one of the most well known high speed cross country races. I’m sorry for doubting you. I’m sorry for being an asshole to you. I don’t know what happened to me. I don’t know why I doubted you. I don’t know why I was… Why I was jealous of you.” It was quiet for a long moment while we waited for a light to turn green. I wondered if Lance was thinking of what dig he’d make at me next.

“No one believed you could make it back in Killead, did they?” I paused and brushed past his question.

I looked up to face Lance head on. “I just don’t know how you do this shit. I used to be good at this. You— You’re just…” I swallowed my sentence before realizing what I wanted to say was wrong. You’re just an old guy who drove slow old cars. I’m supposed to be better than you, yet I can’t even turn without skidding anymore.

“I’m just some old guy, right?” I didn’t respond. I didn’t know what to say.

My voice was quiet when I choked out, “And yet you're better than I am at almost everything.” He was quiet as he looked at me. His eyes were a bit softer now. I turned away and looked back out the window as we drove.

“We’re more similar than you think, rookie. You think I haven’t been where you are?”

“You care about me then, right?” We rolled down the road slowly, back toward the warehouses where the afterparty had been.

“Tch, what makes you think that?” Lance spat the words out at me, the irritation returning to his voice. Even though I had to strain to maintain his gaze, I looked over at Lance. His eyes were lidded in exhaustion as he stared at the road coldly.

“If you didn’t, you’d just call the cops and tell them I’m missing and let Miroche handle it. That’s the extent of legal responsibility, right?”

He let out a breathy laugh of annoyance. “I believe in second chances. I don’t want to see you end up like my old college friends. Some of them idiots couldn’t make it in the pro-racing world, and a couple have been disabled and mutilated because of street racing. Pff, idiots needed to race so badly, and when the racing world didn’t give them a chance, they ruined themselves. That’s what happens when you deny a driver their only outlet.” Lance paused just outside the driveway of the warehouses. “And you look like my son. I just can’t watch my son crash again. So much wasted potential.” His voice was quieter now, but he kept his hard stare even as he glanced across the car at me.

We arrived back at the abandoned warehouse where the cops were searching to see if any of the racers had been stupid enough to hide nearby. My heart was pounding and my stomach churned, making me want to throw up. What have I done?

A broad shouldered bearded policeman approached us. “Ah, Mr. Callahan, this your driver?”

“Yeah, kid’s one of mine. Ran off during recovery, still not cleared to race.” Lance spoke firmly to the cop, stepping forward between the cop and I. He whipped out an ID card and handed it to the cop. “He was reported missing from our medical facility a few hours ago. Looks like he got caught up on the road with those drivers. He’s not cleared to be racing, but he’s been goin’ stir crazy, so we told him he could go out yesterday. But he didn’t come back at closing, we got a bit worried ‘bout him.” The cop gestured for my ID and I stepped forward and pulled out my wallet. I handed him my license, my hand shaking a bit as he looked.

“Your real name Dean Mercer?” I looked up at the cop and nodded. He didn’t seem like he was pressing me, just curious. I cleared my throat, trying to steady my hand as he inspected my license.

“Yes sir.”

He leaned back, satisfied, and I put my ID back in my wallet. “You okay? You’re shaking a bit there.” He furrowed his brows at me, concern in his voice.

I hesitantly nodded. “Yeah,” I said quietly, “Been on some new meds. Supposed to help with some nerve pain.” I scrambled to come up with something that wasn’t an outright lie. “I got stuck in traffic and missed my last dose.”

The cop nodded to me, his face relaxing. “Huh… Well, make sure you take care of yourself, alright?”

I nodded back respectfully. “Yes sir.”

The cop turned to address Lance. “So, Mr. Callahan, you’re his boss?”

Lance nodded. “Boss and caretaker of sorts, yes. I’m his crew chief.” The cop seemed satisfied enough with our answers.

“Well, we appreciate you two. Thanks to Smokey we caught up with a few of those street racers. We got enough of them tonight to shut it down. At least in the meantime. It’s only a matter of time before they reinstate their licenses and get new cars. The tuners are crazy these days. Alright, well, stay safe on the way home you two.” The cop nodded politely and waved before heading back to his cruiser.

We stuck around the warehouse as the last of the police left to wait for the tow truck carrying my old Dart. I was tired after not getting any good rest. I waited outside of Ace’s cruiser with Lance, both of us leaning against the car. Eventually the rumble of an engine echoed through the empty warehouse lot as the tow truck finally pulled in, its lights flashing dimly in the early dawn haze. Lance waved it down and exchanged a few words with the driver before walking up to me inside the cruiser, gesturing to roll down the window.

“Facility trailer’s on its way.” I watched as the car was eased off the trailer with the help of a winch. “Figured we’d save your precious ride a few more bruises. We’ll have ‘em haul it back to the personal vehicle garage at base.” I nodded faintly and started off toward the Dart out of habit to go check on it. I went around from back towards the front, hand brushing against the door handle, looking around for any bad dents or scratches that weren’t there before. Before I could open the door, Lance’s voice cut the air behind me.

“Don’t even think about it.” I turned only my head towards Lance standing beside me. “You’re riding with me and that car is going in the trailer.” He nodded toward the cruiser.

“Am I not allowed to check my car?” I threw my hands up in irritation.

Lance rolled his eyes and began walking away. “As if that was all you’re gonna do.”

I turned to follow him back to the cruiser. “Damn, you really don’t fucking trust me, do you? Because clearly I have an escape plan for my slow-ass car planned out in five minutes.”

“No, I don’t trust you. Because every damn time I turn my back, you prove again and again that I shouldn’t.”

Lance followed the route down the interstate we had taken to get back to Keihaki with the trailer holding my Dart. Eventually we’d make our way back to Silkeholt after a pit stop in Keihaki.

“I best not catch you in a street race ever again. You hear me?” I avoided looking back at Lance and nodded. “If you need to drive, get the practice car out on the circuit. Or at least stay in own. And let someone know where you. Understand? For god’s sake, don’t just go to an illegal street race. If the media and police find out what you really did tonight, you will never be allowed to forget it.” I just nodded again. “What? I can’t hear you.”

I took a breath. “Yes, chief.” He’s right, if anyone ever found out the likes of someone like Verstappen or Shumacher did an illegal street race, it’d be over for them.

I was dead tired, but I couldn’t sleep during the ride because my stomach was churning so bad from anxiety that I thought I’d actually throw up at one point. Lance’s voice brought me back to reality after staring mindlessly at the cars passing by my window.

“You look like hell froze over. Close your eyes, rookie. That seat reclines for a reason.”

“I’m fine. I don’t need a nap. I’m not five.” I grumbled, barely finding the energy to speak.

“You’ve been sitting still for twenty minutes. And in that twenty minutes, your head’s goin’ up and down like a damn metronome. Just take a nap.”

“I don’t like sleeping in cars,” I rubbed my eyes, they felt heavy and sore, “Feels like I’ll wake up somewhere I don’t wanna be.”

Lance flicked his eyes over at me for a brief moment, but his gaze wasn’t harsh anymore. “You’re my responsibility. You’re safe here. You’ll just wake up back at Miroche with your junk car behind us, same as we are right now. Only difference if you take a nap is you might not look like a zombie once we get there.”

I laughed. “Y’know you’re real funny when you’re being condescending, you know that?”

“You’re still real damn stubborn when you’re exhausted. C’mon. Shut your eyes for just five minutes. I’ll wake you if we hit a pothole or something.”

I sighed, giving in. I reclined the seat and leaned back, easing into the cushy leather. There was a pause as I shifted around in the seat, trying to get comfy.

“It’s not a junk car.”