Sloane’s face, visible in her side mirror, twists. Not with anger. With calculation.

You want us to… mention it to him?

The air hangs thick with gasoline, burnt rubber, and the electric hum of desperation. Neon underglows paint the cracked tarmac in violent streaks of crimson and electric blue. This is the halfway point of the season—the Devil’s Backbone Run. Two races left after tonight.

Something stupid.

Lina hesitates. Then points to a section of the track map.

(to himself) You don’t win by being careful. You win by being the last one stupid enough to keep the pedal down.

Four car lengths. But she’s driving defensively. She knows you’re faster in the corners.

Sloane finally glances toward Jake. A thin smile.

The suspension is singing, Jake. We’re riding on prayer and cheap welds. If you push this car through the S-bends like last time—

Two cars behind Jake collide. Metal shrieks. A tire bounces past his windshield. He doesn’t flinch.

Who is this?

He looks at his dashboard. A small sticker Emma put there last week: a crayon drawing of a rainbow and the words “GO DADDY GO.”

Cass stops at Jake’s window. Lowers the mic.

You just made an enemy of every backer I have. They don’t forget. They don’t forgive.