Chapter 3

Blaze's POV

 

I'm startled out of a deep sleep by the shrill ringing of my phone. I groan and squint against the unexpected intrusion of sound as my head pounds.

 

Who the hell is calling me now?

 

I grope around blindly, trying to locate the source of the noise. My fingers finally close around my phone, and I somehow manage to swipe it open. Felix’s voice roars through the speaker, instantly cutting through the fog in my brain.

 

“You idiot, where the hell are you? The race is starting in 30 damn minutes!” he yells, his voice full of irritation.

 

The race. Shit!

 

My heart pounds as I sit up quickly, my mind struggling to catch up. If it’s starting in 30 minutes, then it must be 11:30 p.m. already. I scramble off the soft bed, only to wince as pain shoots through my body. My waist aches like I’ve been beaten up by ten guys.

 

Ha, shit… What happened to me?

 

I glance down and freeze, realizing that I’m completely naked. My skin is littered with bite marks and bruises. Panic flares in my chest.

 

Did I hook up with someone last night? A lady? But no, I don’t remember talking to any woman. Why does my body feel like I was the one being pounded on?

 

Slowly, awareness returns, and I feel a strange, painful sensation radiating from my lower half. My ass hurts, and not in the usual way. It’s sore, sensitive, like—

 

Oh, hell no.

 

Images start flashing through my mind in a disjointed sequence—sensations, a blur of skin, and... a lion’s head with an eagle’s wings tattooed on a broad chest. A man’s chest.

 

I swallow hard. I was… I was ridden by a guy. I can barely remember his face, but that tattoo is etched into my memory like a brand. My head spins as I try to piece together what happened. All I recall is that it felt insanely good, but thank goodness he’s gone. There’s no way I could have faced him when I woke up.

 

Forcing myself to move, I stand up, only to be hit by another wave of dizziness. My vision blurs and my legs feel unsteady. Is this a hangover, or something else? I want to collapse back into the bed and sleep it off, but there’s no time for that. I need to get to the race.

 

After pulling on my pants, jacket, and boots, I grab my phone and dial Felix’s number again. It’s late, but the streetlights outside still shine brightly. I glance around, trying to get my bearings. The surroundings look familiar—close to the clubhouse, maybe.

 

“Are you here already?” Felix asks, his voice crackling in my ear.

 

“Yeah… you seen my bike?” I mumble, rubbing my temples.

 

“You left it parked at Stanfold Bar, dude. Anyway, we brought It here. Find a way to get over here fast. Just a few minutes left!” he shouts, urgency dripping from his words.

 

Stanfold Bar. Right. I remember now. I was drinking with those Steel Rider bastards. Did they leave me passed out on a table, only for some random guy to pick me up and—?

 

I shake my head, running a hand through my messy hair. No point in dwelling on it now. I order a ride to the location, and soon, I’m on my way. Every bump in the road makes me wince. My ribs hurt, but I ignore it. I’ve got a race to focus on.

 

When I finally arrive, Felix rushes up to me, looking worried. “Hey, buddy, are you sure you can pull this off? You don’t look so good.”

 

“I’ll be fine,” I lie, trying to mask the pain. “It’s just some slight pain in my ribs.”

 

No way am I telling him about the throbbing in my ass. He’d never let me live it down.

 

“You know you can let someone else do the race,” Felix says, his tone pleading as he tries to talk sense into me.

 

"Dude, there's nothing I can do. There is no other method to settle the debt." I reply, putting on my gloves and helmet straps, "I have to do this."

 

"B-but—" He begins, but I interrupt.

 

"Now is not the moment." I firmly say, "Just wait for me at the finish line," and get back on my bike. Every action hurts my body, yet I grit my teeth and keep going.

 

I feel a chill go down my spine as I rev the engine. I sense a deadly gaze from behind me, as though someone is observing me with malicious intentions. I cast a quick glance behind me, but nothing unusual catches my eye. Just more riders getting ready.

 

I shake my head, trying to ignore the uneasy sensation.

 

 It’s probably just nerves. Or maybe I’m still feeling the aftereffects of whatever happened last night.

 

But something else is off. I scan the lineup and frown. Where the hell is Carlo? He should be here with me. But instead of him, I have some random dude, whom I’ve never seen before.

 

Oh well. I guess it’s for the best. The more the distractions, the worse. I have to center myself. Any moment now the race will begin, and I have to make sure that there are no mistakes.

 

Still, I can’t help but remember last night. The weird feeling in my body, the veil-like fog that has occupied my brain making it difficult to see clearly. And that creepy itch in my stomach.

 

But I shove it all back. I Will sort that out when I am finished. Right now there is a race to run. I ready myself and breathe in as the countdown begins.

 

Three… Two… One…

 

The starting signal goes off, and I hit the gas hard, the noise from my motorcycle canvasing all other sounds. The track widens and blurs as I descend, the vision narrowing and narrowing to the line in front of me.

 

No more distractions. Just me and the road.

 

I’ll finish this race, win it, and pay off the damn debt. Then I’ll figure out what the hell happened last night—and who the guy with that damn tattoo is.