Page 183 of Unleashed
The gate flies open.
Hellbent detonates out of the chute with a twisting lunge that snaps my head back. He drops into a vicious left spin, kicks high, and reverses so fast the g-force pulls at my shoulder socket. Ilock my hips. Free arm high. Absorbing every impact through my core the way Dad taught me, the way Paulie refined, the way a thousand hours in the barn gym built into muscle memory so deep it fires without thought.
Two seconds. Three. He bucks vertically, and I feel daylight under me for a split second before slamming back into the seat. The crowd is roaring, but it's distant, muffled, happening in a world I'm not part of right now. I'm in the space between heartbeats. The place where time stretches, and everything is instinct.
Four seconds. Five. Hellbent throws everything he has. A full-body convulsion that would launch a lesser rider into the dirt. I hold. My legs burn. My shoulder screams. My free arm is high and steady, and I'm riding this animal with everything I've ever been and everything I've ever lost and everything I'm fighting to keep.
Six. Seven.
One more second. One more.
The buzzer sounds.
I let go. Hellbent bucks me forward, and I hit the dirt rolling, come up on my feet, and sprint for the fence. He wheels behind me, but the bullfighters are already on it, drawing him away. I clear the rail in one motion and land on the other side with my chest heaving and my blood roaring.
The scoreboard lights up.
94.5.
The arena erupts. Ninety-four-point-five. The highest score of the season. The highest score in a championship final in eleven years.
I did it.
I rip my helmet off, and the sound of the crowd hits me unfiltered, a wall of noise so loud it vibrates in my sternum. People are on their feet. The announcer is screaming somethingabout history and Sterling and a new world champion, and I can barely process the words because my body is shaking with adrenaline and my eyes are blurring, and somewhere in the chaos behind the chutes, I can hear Jett losing his mind.
The only person I want to run to to celebrate ain’t here.
He reaches me first. Launches himself over the rail and grabs me in a hug so violent we both nearly go down.
"You crazy son of a bitch!" He's screaming directly into my ear. "Ninety-four-point-five! That's a fucking record, Ace! A RECORD!"
I'm laughing. I don't know when I started, but I can't stop. Jett is shaking me and yelling, and the crowd is still on its feet, and then Colten is there. Climbing the fence with a look on his face I've only seen twice in my life. Once, when his first horse was born. Once, when Dad told him he was proud of him, the week before he died.
He pulls me into a hug and puts his hand on the back of my head and holds me there.
"Dad would be so proud of you, Ace," he says, right against my ear, low enough that only I hear it above the noise. "So goddamn proud. We all are."
My throat locks. I grip the back of his shirt and hold on. For a second, I'm not a world champion. I'm just a little brother being told his father would be proud, and that's worth more than every buckle and every title and every score on every board in every arena I'll ever ride in.
Hunter appears at the fence. He doesn't climb over. He leans on the rail, arms crossed. But he's smiling. An actual, full, real Hunter Sterling smile.
"Not bad," he says.
I laugh. Wipe my eyes with the back of my glove. "Not bad? That's all I get?"
"What do you want, a parade?"
"A parade would be nice, yeah."
Wyatt is barrelling into my legs. “That was so cool, Uncle Ace!!” he cheers.
I ruffle his hair. “I’ll teach you soon, boy. Don’t worry,” I tell him, looking directly at Hunter.
He shakes his head. But the smile doesn't fade. And when I walk over and lean on the rail beside him, he puts his hand on my shoulder and squeezes.
"You did it, kid," Hunter murmurs.
Jett is already FaceTiming someone, probably either Violet or Tate, holding the phone up so the arena is in the background, narrating the whole thing at full volume. Colten is standing with his arms crossed, watching me with that quiet pride.
