“Let’s move,” King barks, his voice slicing through the adrenaline-fueled chatter.
I strap my helmet on and take a seat behind Havoc, gripping the sides as he revs the engine—a low growl that sends a thrill down my spine. As we pull out of the garage, I feel the weight of the night crushing down on me. The streets are filled with the scent of burnt rubber and exhaust, mixed with a hint of danger lurking around every corner. Each turn we take feels like a step deeper into the abyss, the shadows of our lives swallowing me whole.
The plan is straightforward: join the race that fuels the envy of the elite and grab what we can while the chaos unfolds. D and King will orchestrate from the sidelines, methodically timing everything to ensure our haul goes unnoticed. But my thoughts drift back to Whitney. I had promised myself to protect her, yet here I am, running beside a group of criminals, one of whom is ready to blow my cover at a moment's fucking notice.
The ride is intense, the wind whipping against my body as we speed through the streets. I hear the throaty roars of our competitors, feeling the rush of adrenaline and thrill mixed with a sense of dread gnawing at my gut. Each lap brings us closer to the sweet taste of victory or the bitter sting of betrayal. We approach the wealthy neighborhood, where the bright lights ofmansions pierce through the night, blissfully unaware of the storm that’s about to hit. Security is tight—I can feel it. Eyes are watching, cameras capturing every move. Havoc slows, adjusting his position, and I sense him leaning into the thrill of the chase.
“Remember,” he whispers to me, “don’t stray too far. You stick with me, and we’ll get out of this clean.”
“Yeah, I got it,” I reply, trying hard to conceal the tension tightening in my chest.
We pull up alongside the other racers, exchanging glances with men and women wearing masks and with the same intentions—money, adrenaline, and freedom. The signal goes off, and we surge ahead, engines roaring like an insatiable beast hungry for domination. With every corner we take, I feel my resolve shake, the urge to protect my real identity clashing against the thrill of racing through the night. With every distraction, every phantom of my past, I teeter on the brink. I glance over at Havoc, whose focus remains unbroken. His eyes dart from the road to quickly survey our surroundings.
The first lap ends, and the chaos begins. Gunfire erupts from a nearby alley, chaos spilling into the streets as shadows turn to reality. I watch as a group of masked figures charges toward the racers, their intentions clear—steal, claim, destroy. A voice in my head screams for me to act, to protect my own, but with every decision, the stakes rise even higher.
“Get ready!” Havoc shouts, weaving through the cars, approaching the scene with calculated speed.
My heart races, knowing that any misstep could lead to exposure—not just mine, but that of every person in this game. The weight of my decisions presses against me as I realize that I’ve just crossed a threshold. With every second that ticks by, I’m deeper in this world—more entangled than I ever wanted. As we speed toward the next bend, I recognize that this night is aboutmore than just survival. It's about reckoning and redefining who I am. And as I glance over at Havoc, a flicker of resolve ignites within me. If I’m going to survive this, I’m going to have to fight—fight for my cover, my friends, and a future I’m desperately trying to protect.
With the distraction from the masked gunman firing at the other racers—masked gunmen who are a part of Masked Mayhem—we sneak out of the crowd with Crow and a few others close by and pull over about five houses down from our target. We suit up in bulletproof vests and face masks under our helmets and slip into the darkness, blending in perfectly. By the time we get to the target house, my jaw drops as I realize where I am and whose house we're about to rob: my captain's. This has got to be a fucking joke, right? Or is it a coincidence? Perfect fucking irony? If I wasn't nervous about the op before, I sure as fuck am nervous now, especially since I know that he's home.
It’s time to step into the unknown.
My heart pounds in my chest as we approach the mansion, this op taking on a new layer of insanity. The sprawling estate looms before me, a monument to wealth and authority, completely at odds with everything I stand for right now. The shadows stretch around us as we survey the perimeter, the flickering lights inside indicating that the captain is indeed home. Every instinct in me screams to pull back, to abandon this course of action and find another way to salvage whatever remains of my cover.
But I can’t. Not now. Not when I’ve gone this far.
“Are you ready?” Crow whispers, his voice laced with a mix of excitement and trepidation.
The other members of our group nod, their eyes glinting with that same reckless thrill that has driven them into this life. I wish I could feel that rush, but instead, I find only cold dread.
“Makes you wonder how many details we’re missing,” I mutter, trying to quell the rising tide of anxiety. “Are you sure the guy isn't home?”
Havoc's expression tightens under his mask. “He wouldn’t give up a big score like this without sticking around to watch it all unfold,” he says, adjusting his vest. “We need to hit him fast and keep our heads down.”
A horrible thought strikes me: if King and D, my superiors, found out I was at the captain’s house, it wouldn’t only be my cover at stake—it could send Carter straight into the lion’s den too.
“And if things go south?”
He shrugs; the casualness of the act almost makes me physically recoil. “Do what we came to do and get out. There’s no point in second-guessing now. Let’s just stay focused.”
The growing roar of outside chaos is a constant reminder of the stakes, reminding me that time isn’t on our side.
“All right, let’s move,” I finally say, clutching the edge of my mask, stepping out from our cover in the shadows.
As we creep toward the house, the unmistakable sounds of a party echo from within—laughter, music, and clinking glasses. It’s bizarre to think that right under the nose of our righteous captain lies this world of excess, a façade that conflicts with everything he's sworn to uphold. We approach the back entrance, ducking low and positioning ourselves out of sight. Havoc motions for us to be ready as he crouches beside the door. He glances back, his eyes fierce and intense beneath his mask.
“On three. One… Two… Three."
With a swift push, Havoc kicks in the door, alerting everyone inside. I almost stumble as the door swings open with a bang, the sudden rush of adrenaline surging through my veins.
“Go! Go! Go!” he shouts, and we flood inside, the warm air of the party hitting me like a tsunami, engulfed by waves of shock from the startled guests around us.
Their startled faces reveal panic, laughter dying into silence as the room becomes a scene from a twisted movie. The kind where the good guys wear masks, but the chaos is still an honest reflection of danger.
“Everyone on the ground, NOW!” Crow barks, his voice booming through the room.
My mind races as I take in the opulent surroundings. Silken drapes surround a grand chandelier, marble floors gleam under the illumination, and...there, against the wall, staring at me with a mixture of confusion and recognition, is the captain. His jaw drops as he realizes we’re intruding in his home.
