Danger 7

The hum of the crowd was deafening as I pulled up to the venue. The bright headlights of dozens of cars illuminated the makeshift track, and the air vibrated with the sound of engines revving and people cheering. A cacophony of shouts and chants rose as soon as my car was in sight.

“Queen of the Circuit!”

“She's here!”

“Queen! Queen! Over here!”

Even though the chant of my nickname filled the night, I tightened the scarf around my neck and adjusted my cap lower to conceal my face. The anonymity was my armor in this dangerous world of illegal drag racing. No one here knew who I truly was, and I intended to keep it that way.

I stepped out of the car, careful to move with purpose but not linger too long. Fans pushed closer, shouting my name and waving makeshift banners they’d scribbled with “Queen of the Circuit” in bold, messy letters. The appreciation should have been flattering, but instead, it pressed on me like an unwelcome weight.

Keeping my head low, I raised a single hand in acknowledgment, a polite but distant wave, before making my way through the crowd. People shouted for autographs and pictures, but I ignored them, heading straight to the office where Marco, the organizer, usually handed out the prizes.

Inside, the chaos of the crowd was left behind, replaced by an unsettling silence. The office, a shabby room with peeling wallpaper and a single flickering fluorescent light, had always been a safe haven. But as soon as I stepped inside, I froze.

Five people were waiting for me.

---

My eyes swept across the room, taking in the unfamiliar scene. Two of them I recognized immediately—Marco and his assistant, Jenna. They looked nervous, exchanging glances that only heightened my wariness.

The other three were strangers.

Two men stood like statues on either side of the room, their broad shoulders and no-nonsense expressions marking them as bodyguards. Between them sat a man, his very presence dominating the space.

He looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties, dressed in a tailored navy suit that exuded wealth. A gold watch glinted on his wrist, catching the light as he leaned back in the chair with a casual confidence that screamed power. His sharp jawline, perfectly styled dark hair, and piercing gaze gave him an aura of danger and control.

I raised an eyebrow, crossing my arms as I stepped further inside. “What’s this?” I asked, my tone steady but edged with suspicion.

Marco took a step forward, wringing his hands nervously. “Sierra, uh… there’s been a bit of a situation.”

I shifted my gaze to the man in the chair, who was watching me with a mixture of curiosity and something else I couldn’t quite place.

“I can see that,” I said dryly. “And these three are?”

The man leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His bodyguards didn’t move, but their watchful eyes tracked my every movement.

“I’m Damian,” he said, his voice smooth and deep. “Damian Cross.”

The name hit me like a jolt. Everyone in the city knew who Damian Cross was—one of the youngest, most successful businessmen in the country. He was a billionaire, a man whose name was synonymous with power and wealth.

“What’s a guy like you doing here?” I asked, narrowing my eyes. “This doesn’t seem like your scene.”

A ghost of a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “I could say the same about you, Sierra.”

My stomach tightened, but I didn’t let it show. Instead, I glanced at Marco and Jenna, who were both avoiding my gaze. “What’s going on?”

Marco cleared his throat, stepping forward. “Mr. Cross… has taken an interest in the circuit. He’s, uh, looking to invest.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “Invest? In an illegal racing circuit?”

Damian’s smirk widened slightly. “I prefer to call it an opportunity. But yes, I’m interested in what you and your… colleagues have built here.”

His casual tone made my blood boil. This wasn’t a game or a hobby—it was survival. For me, for Marco, for everyone who risked their lives out there.

“I don’t know what you think you’re buying,” I said, my voice colder now, “but this isn’t some playground for bored billionaires.”

The room went tense. One of the bodyguards shifted slightly, as if ready to intervene, but Damian raised a hand to stop him.

“I’m not here to play,” he said, his gaze locking with mine. “I’m here because this circuit has potential. And because I’m curious about the so-called ‘Queen of the Circuit.’”

---

My jaw tightened, but I refused to look away. “I don’t care about your curiosity. If you have money to burn, go somewhere else.”

Damian chuckled softly, the sound low and almost mocking. “You’re bold. I’ll give you that.”

I glanced at Marco, who was visibly sweating now. “Marco, what’s this really about? Why is he here?”

Marco hesitated before answering. “He… he approached us a few weeks ago. Said he could help expand the circuit, make it safer, more organized…”

I cut him off with a sharp laugh. “Safer? There’s no such thing as ‘safe’ in this world. And you know it.”

Damian’s expression didn’t change, but I could feel his eyes studying me, analyzing every word, every movement.

“You’re right,” he said, his voice calm. “There’s risk. But there’s also reward. I’m not here to change what you do. I’m here to make it bigger.”

I shook my head, taking a step closer. “You don’t get it, do you? This isn’t about making it bigger. It’s about staying under the radar, surviving. The moment you start flashing your money around, you’ll bring heat down on all of us.”

Damian’s smirk vanished, replaced by a serious expression that made the room feel even smaller. “You think I don’t understand risk? I built my empire by taking risks most people wouldn’t even dream of. I’m not here to ruin what you’ve built, Sierra. I’m here because I see potential—and because I want in.”

---

The tension in the room was suffocating, but I held my ground. “This isn’t your world, Cross. And it never will be.”

For a moment, no one spoke. Then Damian stood, his towering presence suddenly much closer. He wasn’t intimidating in the traditional sense—he wasn’t shouting or threatening—but his sheer confidence was enough to make anyone think twice.

“Maybe not,” he said softly, his eyes locked on mine. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t be part of it.”

He turned to Marco and Jenna. “I’ll give you some time to think about my offer. But don’t take too long.”

With that, he motioned for his bodyguards, and the three of them left the office without another word.

---

The door closed behind them, and I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Marco and Jenna exchanged nervous looks, but I didn’t wait for them to explain.

“Is this what we’re doing now?” I asked, my voice sharp. “Selling out to the highest bidder?”

Marco shook his head quickly. “It’s not like that, Sierra. He just… he has resources we don’t.”

“I don’t care about his resources,” I snapped. “What we have works because we keep it small and tight-knit. You bring someone like him in, and everything falls apart.”

Jenna spoke up hesitantly. “But what if he could help? What if—”

“No,” I said firmly. “We don’t need his help. And we definitely don’t need his money.”

They didn’t argue, but the doubt in their eyes was clear.

I grabbed my prize envelope from the desk and turned to leave. “Next time, warn me before you invite someone like him here.”

---

As I walked back to my car, the cheers of the crowd felt distant, almost hollow. Damian Cross’s words echoed in my mind, and for the first time, I felt a crack in the armor I’d built around this life.

Who was he to walk into my world and think he could take over? And why did his presence feel like more than just a passing threat?

One thing was certain: this wasn’t the last I’d see of Damian Cross. And that thought, more than anything else, sent a shiver down my spine.