Riding with Desire

Chapter 9

Leo

FUCK.

I'm going to kill that motherfucker for sure. How fucking dare he. My blood is boiling, adrenaline surging through me like a tidal wave. Without a second thought, I bolt, practically running towards the cabin crew area to grab my bike. The race is about to start in two minutes, and if I don't get there in time, there is going to be a hell of a lot of dead bodies.

"Where the fuck are you going, Leo?" one of the crew shouts after me as I snatch up my helmet and swing a leg over Mrs James.

"I've got a race to win," I snap, my voice laced with barely contained fury.

"But it's about to start in a minute-there's no way you'll-" Before he can finish his sentence, I fire up Mrs. James' engine, the roar drowning out his words. I don't need to hear it. I don't give a shit about his doubts.

The distance between the cabin crew area and the racing track is a solid 1.5 km. As I speed off, a gunshot rings out, signalling the start of the race.

Fuck

I grit my teeth and yank the throttle, feeling the raw power of Mrs James beneath me as we tear down the road. I lean forward, my body almost becoming one with the bike, reducing wind resistance and urging every ounce of speed out of her.

The tachometer needle climbs steadily as I shift gears with practised precision, every movement calculated, every decision razor-sharp. The tyres grip the asphalt like a beast, defying physics as we close the gap between us and the track.

My mind's a storm, thoughts of Sophia flashing through my head.

"You're mine, Sophia-no one else can touch you or own you. Only I can own you."

The thought of anyone else even thinking about laying a hand on her makes my blood boil even more.

I roar onto the track, the other racers already in motion. But I don't care. I don't feel the pressure. I feel the fire. And as I push Mrs. James to her absolute limits, I know one thing for sure-this isn't just a race anymore. It is a fucking war. And I am going to win.

____________

Sophia

And that's going to be me

His words still echo in my mind, like a curse that won't let go. But strangely, I'm not scared anymore. Not in the way I should be. I stare down at the race tracks, trying to piece together how the hell he thinks he's going to win when he's not even there yet. Panic starts to creep in, tightening around my chest like a vice. My lower lip is bruised from stress-biting, and I can't remember the last time I took a proper breath. How am I even sane right now? My life is literally being gambled away to some random asshole who'll win this race. It's fucking pathetic. I want to jump off this building and end it all right now.

"What're you looking at, Miss Sophia?" Larson's slimy voice slithers into my ear as he sneaks up behind me.

"Get off, you psycho! How could you do this to anyone?" I shove him away, my skin crawling at the thought of him even being near me. His presence makes me want to scrub my skin raw.

"I didn't mean to startle you," he says, holding his hands up in mock defense, a sick grin playing on his lips. "I'm sorry-see, I'm a good person."

I open my mouth to tell him he's nothing but a twisted fuck, but his finger points toward the race tracks.

"And... start!" A loud bang, like a gunshot, signals the beginning of the race. Leo, where are you? My eyes dart frantically, searching for any sign of him. Seconds pass in a blur, and then bike barrels onto the track from the starting line.