Chapter 4
Later that day, Alex was in the training cabin, wiping the sweat off his face with a towel when Hector, his team’s coach, walked in.
Hector was a tough guy, all muscle and attitude, but he had a soft spot for his riders. He tossed a clipboard onto the table and crossed his arms. "Got some news for you, rookie."
Alex raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"
Hector nodded. "You’re in."
Alex blinked. "In what?"
"The Redwater Grand Prix. Biggest race of the season for up-and-comers like you. You’ve been officially registered."
Alex’s heart nearly stopped. The Grand Prix? That was no joke. That was huge. He had barely been in this town for a few days, and they were already throwing him into the deep end.
"Wait, what?" he said, voice a little higher than he wanted. "That’s, like, a real race. Like, serious racers race in that race."
Hector gave him a look. "Yeah, and? You serious about this sport or not?"
Alex swallowed. "No—I mean, yeah, of course, but—"
"But nothing. You proved yourself already. You’re fast, you’re reckless, and you’ve got a hell of a lot of potential. You belong out there."
Alex wasn’t sure if Hector was hyping him up or sending him to his death.
Still, his fingers twitched. His stomach turned with a mix of excitement and panic.
"When’s the race?" he asked.
"Two weeks. You’re gonna train your ass off ‘til then."
Alex exhaled, trying to steady himself. Two weeks. Okay. I can do this. I just have to—
"One more thing," Hector added. "Johnathan’s in it, too."
Alex froze.
Of course he was.
He pressed his lips together, keeping his face neutral. "Okay. Cool. Great."
Hector smirked. "That gonna be a problem?"
Alex scoffed. "Please. I was hoping he’d be there."
Hector chuckled, slapping a hand on Alex’s shoulder. "Good. Then get your ass out there and start training."
Alex nodded, but his mind was already racing ahead of him.
Johnathan was going to be there. That meant there was no way he could slack off.
He had two weeks to prove he wasn’t just some rookie.
And maybe, just maybe, he’d finally get the upper hand on him.
That night, long after most of the team had gone home, Alex was still on the track.
The roar of his engine cut through the quiet night, the floodlights casting long shadows across the dirt. He leaned hard into a turn, tires skidding before he pushed forward, faster, smoother, more in control.
Two weeks. That was all he had.
And Johnathan was going to be in that race.
Alex gritted his teeth, gripping the throttle tighter.
He wasn’t about to let himself look like an idiot in front of him.
He pushed harder, jumping over a small ramp and landing smoothly. The bike growled beneath him, the familiar vibrations settling into his bones. This—this was what he lived for. The rush, the challenge, the feeling of being unstoppable.
And yet…
He couldn’t shake the image of Johnathan’s smirk, the way he always seemed just a step ahead. The way he knew he was better.
Alex huffed, pulling up to a stop at the edge of the track. He yanked off his helmet, letting the cool night air hit his face.
He needed to be faster. Sharper. He needed to think ahead, not just react.
"Still out here, rookie?"
Alex jumped, spinning around.
Johnathan stood a few feet away, arms crossed, looking as smug as ever. His own helmet dangled loosely from one hand.
Alex scowled. "Do you live here or something?"
Johnathan shrugged. "Could ask you the same thing." He took a few slow steps forward, eyeing Alex’s bike. "Training already? Damn. That scared of losing?"
Alex huffed out a laugh. "Please. More like preparing to win."
Johnathan tilted his head, amusement flickering in his eyes. "That so?"
Alex stepped closer, tilting his head up slightly to meet his gaze. "You sound nervous."
Johnathan let out a sharp chuckle. "You wish."
There was a pause. The air between them felt charged, thick with something unspoken.
Then Johnathan rolled his shoulders. "Alright, rookie. Let’s see what you’ve got."
Alex blinked. "What?"
"You’re here training, right? Let’s go. One-on-one. No bullshit."
Alex’s heart thudded.
Racing Johnathan, alone, under the night sky? It was a stupid idea. A terrible idea.
And yet—
"Fine," Alex said, grinning as he pulled his helmet back on. "Try to keep up, old man."
Johnathan smirked. "Oh, you are so dead."
Engines roared. Tires kicked up dust.
And just like that, they were off.
Alex sat on his bike, staring at the finish line. His fingers curled around the handlebars so tightly they ached.
Johnathan had won. Again.
He had been so close this time, right on his tail, but it hadn’t been enough. It was never enough.
His jaw clenched as frustration burned in his chest. He bit down on his lip—hard—until the sharp taste of blood filled his mouth.
"Hey."
A hand brushed against his chin, featherlight.
Alex froze.
Johnathan stood in front of him, closer than expected. His thumb wiped the blood from Alex’s lip with a gentle touch that felt completely out of place.
For a second, Alex swore he saw something in his eyes—something different. The track lights reflected in them, making them glisten in the dark.
Then, just as quickly as it happened, Johnathan pulled his hand away, clearing his throat. "You’re getting better," he muttered.
Alex swallowed hard, ignoring the way his skin tingled where John had touched him. "Not good enough," he said, voice tight.
Johnathan didn’t argue. He just nodded. "Then keep going."
And then he left.
Alex sat there, watching his shadow disappear.
He gritted his teeth, shoving his emotions deep, deep down. He didn’t need Johnathan’s pity. He needed to win.
So he started again.
Lap after lap, he pushed himself. Harder. Faster. Every turn sharper, every jump cleaner. The world blurred around him as he forced himself forward, muscles aching, lungs burning.
His mistakes? He corrected them. His weaknesses? He attacked them.
Over and over.
Until he wasn’t just keeping up—
He was flying.
Alex didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop.
His heart pounded, his breath came in ragged gasps, but he kept going. Faster. Tighter turns. Sharper jumps. The track was a blur, nothing but dirt and adrenaline and the burning need to be better.
One more lap. Just one more.
His arms ached. His legs felt numb. His body screamed at him to slow down, to stop, but he didn’t listen. He couldn’t listen.
Then—
A miscalculation.
His front tire hit a loose patch of dirt at the wrong angle. His balance shifted just enough to throw him off. The back tire skidded out, and suddenly, the world was spinning—
Alex had just enough time to realize what was happening before his body slammed into the ground.
Hard.
Pain exploded in his side, sharp and unforgiving. His bike tumbled away, metal screeching against dirt before landing a few feet from him.
For a second, everything was silent except for his own ragged breathing. His helmet had taken the worst of the impact, but his ribs hurt—badly. His arms stung from scraping against the rough ground.
Alex groaned, rolling onto his back, staring up at the floodlights that made the night feel like day. His head was spinning, his body shaking with exhaustion.
He had pushed too far.
Again.
And now, he had no choice but to lie there, gasping for breath, knowing he’d done this to himself.
Alex lay there, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. His entire body ached—his ribs throbbed, his arms stung, his legs felt like dead weight.
He clenched his jaw, blinking hard against the brightness of the floodlights above him.
Stupid. He was so stupid.
He knew better. He knew his limits. But he'd ignored them, let his frustration take over, and now—
Footsteps.
Alex barely had time to process it before a shadow loomed over him.
"You really don’t know when to quit, do you?"
Johnathan.
Alex turned his head slightly, wincing. John stood a few feet away, arms crossed, his bike parked nearby. His face was unreadable, but there was something in his expression—something tense, something that looked too much like concern.
Alex let out a shaky breath, forcing a smirk. "And you really don’t know how to mind your own business, do you?"
Johnathan didn’t rise to the bait. He just sighed, stepping closer. "Can you even get up?"
Alex grit his teeth. "Of course I can."
He tried.
His muscles screamed in protest as he pushed himself onto his elbows, then his hands, then—
Pain shot through his ribs, white-hot and unforgiving. His vision blurred. His arms trembled beneath him.
And then, suddenly—
A firm hand grabbed his arm, steadying him.
Alex flinched, but Johnathan didn’t let go.
"Relax," John muttered, his grip secure but not forceful. "Just breathe."
Alex wanted to snap at him, to push him away, to prove that he could do this on his own—
But he was tired. And hurting. And for once, he let himself take the help.
With Johnathan’s support, he got to his feet, swaying slightly.
John sighed, shaking his head. "You’re an idiot."
Alex exhaled a weak laugh. "Tell me something I don’t know."
Johnathan didn’t answer right away. He just stared at Alex for a moment, something unreadable flickering in his gaze.
Then, finally, he spoke.
"Come on. Let’s get you back before you really wreck yourself."
And this time, Alex didn’t argue.