Page 46 of Fatality

The impact throws the car sideways, but the driver somehow wrestles it back under control, leaving behind a crumpled quarter panel and a trail of shattered carbon fiber.

I let my car roll forward, engine still roaring, like nothing happened.

Then, slowly, I brake, step out without a hint of urgency nor concern.

They could be dead, what a waste. Especially the passenger, she was pretty.

My boots hit the pavement in slow, steady steps.

I should be racing, I should be winning.

Instead, I'm far more interested in the idiot who thought entering a street race—and bringing a passenger along—was a good idea.

I walk toward the wreck, hands hanging loosely at my sides.

As I reach the driver's side, I glance through the window, he's still moving.

I ignore him completely, circling the hood, I vault over the barrier and stop beside the passenger door.

I lean down to peer through the cracked window.

There she is.

My eyes drag over her body, slow and deliberate. I'm not even trying to hide it.

Is she alive? She hasn't moved.

I click my tongue.

If she's dead... She should've picked someone who actually knew how to drive.

A pained grunt escapes her.

She's alive.

My head tilts as I lean closer, slipping my upper body through the broken window.

I hold my own breath, listening for hers.

There it is, steady, not even labored.

“Well...” A beat. “You held up better than him.”

I tap the frame once, the metal creaking beneath the impact.

“You always let bitches risk your life like that, or was this a special occasion?”

I grab her chin and lift it, forcing her to look at me.

My gaze stays locked on hers, heavy and intrusive.

When she blinks and opens her eyes, my breath catches.

Different-colored eyes—One pale blue and one pale green.

Mods? Or natural?

It doesn't matter, not right now.