Avery wiped the sweat from her brow, her fingers deep in the guts of a drive coil. The workshop buzzed around her—floating drones hummed above, robotic arms passed her tools without request, and data streams flickered across the glass-paneled walls. She'd been working nonstop since Reyna dumped her with the wrecked bike and the smug expectation of obedience.
She hated that she was starting to like it.
The tech was alien and exhilarating. Precision-engineered components, neural synapse interfaces, fuel cells that pulsed with a strange bioluminescence. But more than that—it gave her purpose. Focus.
Unfortunately, Reyna Vex showed up exactly when Avery was getting into the zone.
"Careful with that coil," Reyna said, stepping through the workshop door. She leaned against a beam, arms crossed, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips. "Crosswire it and you'll fry the stabilization system."
Avery didn't look up. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, Queenie."
"You don't like the nickname?"
"I don't like the monarchy."
Reyna laughed. "You're in my kingdom now."
Avery tightened a bolt, her jaw set. "Then maybe I'll start a revolution."
They locked eyes. That crackling tension flared again.
Reyna stepped closer. "You've got fight. I respect that. But you're still on my terms."
Avery stood up, wiping grease on her pants. "Then what are you doing down here? Slumming it with the help?"
Reyna shrugged. "Curious. You're the first racer to beat me in over a year. And now, you're fixing the bike like it's a piece of your soul."
"It's a challenge," Avery said. "I like winning."
"So do I."
They were close now. Inches apart. Avery could smell the heat of the race still clinging to Reyna's suit—oil, sweat, and something sharp like ozone. Her heartbeat betrayed her, quickening in a way she didn't like.
"You're intense," Reyna murmured. "Reckless. Stubborn."
Avery tilted her head. "And you like that?"
Reyna didn't answer. She reached past Avery, brushing her shoulder as she grabbed a plasma wrench off the rack.
The touch was brief.
But Avery felt it like a shock.
"You missed a hairline crack in the stabilizer bracket," Reyna said casually. "Good work, otherwise."
Avery stared at the bracket. Sure enough, there it was—just a flicker of a fracture, only visible from a certain angle. She bit back a curse. She never missed things like that.
"You planted that, didn't you?"
Reyna just smirked. "I test people."
Avery narrowed her eyes. "What else do you test?"
Reyna leaned in, her voice low. "Everything that interests me."
And just like that, she turned and walked away.
Avery exhaled slowly. Her heart was still racing—but not from the bikes this time.
Whatever this was between them, it was starting to feel dangerous.
And maybe… a little thrilling.
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