The night before the race felt like the world held its breath.
The garage was quiet for once. The humming tools were silent, the team dispersed early. Only Avery remained, sitting beside Reyna's rebuilt bike. It glistened under the glow of overhead lamps—sleek, predatory, like its rider.
Reyna entered without a word, her expression a stormcloud in leather.
"Can't sleep?" Avery asked without looking up.
Reyna sat across from her. "Never before a fight."
"You're not calling it a race?"
"Because it's not. Not really."
Avery leaned forward, fingers tightening on the wrench. "You sure you want to do this alone?"
Reyna studied her. "Would you stop me?"
"No," Avery admitted. "But I'd stand beside you."
A silence stretched. Thick, warm.
Reyna's voice was quiet. "When I was with Valk, I thought love meant survival. We fought everything. Even each other. But I never felt safe."
Avery turned to her. "Do you, now?"
"I don't know," Reyna whispered. "But I feel seen."
That word held weight.
Avery stood and walked to her, standing inches away. "Then let me be the one who stands with you. You don't have to burn alone."
Reyna's hand found hers. "If I lose tomorrow—"
"You won't."
"But if I do… you run. Don't stay and pick up pieces Valk leaves behind."
Avery leaned in. "I don't run. Not from this. Not from you."
Their eyes met. And this time, there was no interruption.
Reyna leaned forward, and Avery met her halfway.
Their lips brushed—tentative, testing. Then deeper.
It wasn't a kiss of possession. It was a promise.
When they parted, Reyna rested her forehead against Avery's. "If I survive this… there's more I want."
Avery smiled softly. "Then come back. Whole."
Reyna nodded, eyes dark with determination.
"Sleep," Avery whispered.
Reyna chuckled. "Only if you stay."
Avery took her hand. "I'm not going anywhere."
Outside, the neon city pulsed with life.
Inside, two hearts finally beat in rhythm.
Tomorrow, the past would rise.
But tonight, they found shelter in each other.
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