Playing with Fire

✨ Chapter Eleven | Shattered

- Carlos -

The first thing I noticed when we got to Phoenix Cycles early that morning to work on final plans for the rally was... silence.

Not the peaceful kind that came after a long day, but the uneasy, something's not right kind. Chuck stepped into the empty shop ahead of me, his shoulders tense, the leather of his motorcycle jacket creaking faintly as he moved.

"Chuck... did you leave the lights on when we closed up after hours last night?" I asked, my voice breaking the stillness. I already knew the answer, but I had to ask.

Chuck shook his head, his jaw tightening. "No."

We both froze in the doorway. The faint hum of a fan reached my ears, but everything else-the cluttered desk, the tools scattered across the workbench-was as we'd left it. Almost.

Except for the shattered glass.

Chuck moved first, striding toward the workbench. His boots crunched over shards of what looked like a broken coffee mug. A stack of rally flyers lay scattered on the floor, some torn in half, others smeared with grease.

"What the hell..." Chuck muttered, crouching to pick one up.

My stomach dropped as I stepped closer. The glass wasn't from a window, it looked like it came from one of the display cases that had been knocked to the ground. Luckily, nothing was missing or broken. Someone had scrawled across one of the flyers in thick black marker: "This is a mistake."

Chuck's knuckles whitened as he crumpled the paper in his fist. "Well... this isn't random," he said, his voice low and steady, but I could hear the anger simmering just beneath the surface.

"No shit," I said, kneeling to gather the rest of the flyers. My hands shook as I tried to piece them together, like solving a puzzle would make any of this make sense. "Who would even do this, Chuck?! And why?"

Chuck stood, pacing the length of the garage, his hands raking through his already messy helmet hair. "Could be anyone. Someone who's pissed about the rally, maybe. Or someone who wants to make it personal."

"Personal?" I echoed, standing and crossing my arms. "This isn't about you, Chuck... it's about the rally. Probably about me. Why do you keep saying that?!"

He didn't say anything for a moment, his jaw working like he was chewing on the words he wanted to say. His eyes flicked to the floor, then to the torn flyers, before finally settling on the cold concrete wall. I knew that look. I'd seen it before, the way guilt gripped him and wouldn't let go.

"You're thinking about the fire, aren't you?" I asked softly.

Chuck's shoulders stiffened, but he didn't answer. The silence stretched between us.

"Chuck..." I stepped closer, my voice gentler now. "It wasn't your fault. You've been over that mistake a hundred times."

His throat worked as he swallowed hard, and when he finally spoke, his voice was low, rough around the edges. "I was reckless, Carlos. I didn't think it through. I could've lost everything. This place, my best friend, his dad's trust..." He pressed his palm against the wall like he was trying to steady himself. "And now, this rally? What if-"

"Stop." I reached out, my hand brushing his arm, and he turned toward me, his gaze meeting mine. His dark eyes held a storm of emotions but beneath it all, I saw the vulnerability he tried so hard to hide.

"You didn't lose anything," I said firmly. "You earned Colton's forgiveness. You've worked your ass off to keep this place going. And this rally? This is our rally, man... Whatever this sabotage is, it's not going to ruin that. Not if we don't let it."