Zara sat in the driver's seat of her old car, gripping the steering wheel as the weight of Kade's words settled over her. The crash hadn't been an accident. Someone had wanted her off the track—off the map entirely. But why? And who?
Noor leaned against the hood, arms crossed. "So, what now?"
Zara didn't answer immediately. The car's interior smelled faintly of leather and gasoline, memories pressing in on her from all sides. She had vowed never to race again, but the pull was undeniable. The only way to get answers was to go back to the world she had abandoned.
"We find out who did this," she said finally.
Noor gave her a wry smile. "And how do you plan on doing that? Walk up to the Underground Circuit and ask?"
Zara exhaled, her fingers tightening on the wheel. "No. I race."
Kade, who had been watching quietly, chuckled. "You sure you're ready for that?"
Zara turned to him, her gaze steady. "I don't have a choice."
A flicker of something—approval, maybe—passed through Kade's eyes. "Then you'll need a crew."
Noor straightened. "You mean us?"
Kade shrugged. "You think she can do this alone?"
Zara had spent years fighting her battles solo, but this wasn't a fight she could win without help. She needed people she could trust. She looked at Noor, then Kade. They weren't perfect, but they were here.
"Fine," she said. "But we do this my way."
Kade smirked. "Wouldn't have it any other way."
The next few days were a blur of preparation. Zara spent hours reacquainting herself with her car, adjusting to the feel of the wheel, the hum of the engine beneath her fingers. She was rusty, but it came back to her like muscle memory. Late nights turned into early mornings as she practiced, pushing herself harder than she had in years. Her hands grew sore from gripping the wheel, her body aching from the sheer intensity of the training, but she refused to back down.
Noor handled logistics, tracking race schedules and potential rivals. The Underground Circuit had changed, new faces replacing old legends. Zara wasn't just coming back; she was stepping into unknown territory. She spent hours studying new opponents, analyzing their strengths and weaknesses. Every detail mattered. If she was going to return, she had to do it right.
Kade, despite his usual cocky demeanor, took her training seriously. He pushed her hard, forcing her to find the limits she hadn't tested in years. He set up makeshift courses in abandoned parking lots, pushing her to take sharp turns at breakneck speeds, testing her reflexes and endurance. "Faster," he would shout. "You hesitate, you lose."
One evening, after an exhausting session, Zara sat on the hood of her car, staring up at the night sky. The city lights flickered in the distance, a constant reminder of the world beyond the track. "Do you ever wonder why we do this?" she asked quietly.
Noor, sitting beside her, chuckled. "Because we don't know how to stop."
Kade, leaning against the car, added, "Because once the road calls you, there's no turning back."
Zara nodded. That was the truth of it. Racing wasn't just something she did—it was who she was.
On the night of her first race back, Zara stood at the starting line, heart pounding. The crowd roared, engines revved, and for the first time in years, she felt it—the thrill, the fear, the rush. The familiar scent of burning rubber filled the air, adrenaline surging through her veins. This was her world, and she was stepping back into it.
She glanced at Noor and Kade, who gave her a nod. Their presence grounded her, reminding her why she was here.
Then the flag dropped, and Zara hit the gas.
The past was catching up, but she was ready to outrun it.