CHAPTER 56: GO BACK TO WHERE YOU CAME FROM

Eleanor’s POV

The wind whipped across the infield of the Serpent’s Kiss, carrying with it the faint, metallic scent of ozone that made the hair on my arms stand up. I hugged myself, staring at the sprawling, sinister asphalt. What in the world had I gotten myself into?

This wasn’t a dream anymore. It was a nightmare I had willingly signed up for.

Next to me was Mira as she watched Roxy pace in front of us. Roxy’s mouth was moving a mile a minute, her hands gesturing sharply at the track.

"—and if you can’t handle the initial G-force without blacking out or, moon forbid, painting the interior of the car with your breakfast, then we’re already starting from a deficit—are you two even listening to me?"

I blinked. Mira and I exchanged a guilty look.

"You talk too fast," Mira said, her voice faint.

Roxy planted her hands on her hips. "Or maybe my English is just too advanced for you two. Fine." She let out an exasperated sigh that was mostly for show. "I’m going to start again, and you will focus. Your lives will depend on it."

She pointed a commanding finger at the track. "Lesson one: The Serpent’s Kiss is no longer just a track. It’s an enchanted, multi-configuration death trap that hosts different types of racing on different layouts. It has a mind of its own now."

My stomach did a slow, nauseating roll.

"But before we even get to the magic and the monsters," Roxy continued, her gaze pinning me to the spot, "the very first thing you two have to figure out is if you can keep your guts inside your body when I put my foot down. Can you handle the speed without puking in the car? Because if you can’t, we’re not going to last five seconds out there."

Mira straightened her shoulders. "I can handle it."

Both of them then looked at me. I swallowed hard. "I’ll... I’ll try to handle it."

Roxy rolled her eyes. "What happened to the girl who signed the contract with fire in her eyes? Where’s that Eleanor?"

"I might not have actually sat down to think about the consequences," I admitted. "You know, before signing up for a suicide mission."

"Good. Now you are. And there’s no turning back," Roxy stated, a grim smile on her face. It wasn’t comforting.

I like her, Beatrice purred in my head.

Of course she would.

"Since this racing isn’t just about winning, but about carving up rogues," Roxy continued, "the vehicles are being modified. Weapons, reinforced frames, the works." She eyed our expressions. "But don’t get excited. I’m not letting either of you near a weaponized car until you can prove you won’t kill yourselves with the steering wheel first."

Mira bristled. "I’m not that oblivious."

"Speak for yourself," Roxy shot back without missing a beat. "Come on. We need to meet the crew chief. He’s the one who’ll decide and see if you’re even worth the carbon fiber it’ll take to build your coffins."

We followed her across the paddock to where a man with a stern expression was speaking with a group of men. He had the air of someone who tolerated no nonsense. When he saw Roxy leading us over, he excused himself and approached.

"You must be the new riders for the Vexxon team," he said, his voice as no-nonsense as his appearance. "I’m Mr. Maxwell, the crew chief. I assume you’re all... supernatural creatures?" He left the question hanging, his gaze sharp and assessing.

Roxy gave a single, sharp nod. "Yeah. We’re all werewolves."

"Good. You’re just in time for the briefing. Gather with the rest," he said, gesturing the group.

We moved to join them. The moment we did, a wall of confused and openly annoyed looks hit us.

They were all men, of various ages and builds, and their collective expression was a clear, unspoken question: What are women doing here?

Mr. Maxwell cleared his throat, his voice cutting through the tense silence. "As I was saying," he began, his stern gaze sweeping over the entire group, "I welcome you all. But if anyone is here just for the thrill, for the fame, or to prove a point, I suggest you leave now. This is not a game. It is, as some of you have so astutely guessed, a suicide mission."

Called it.

He continued, "You are here to represent not just the different companies you came from, but our entire kind, with dignity and with style. You will be the public face of our survival."

Just then, one of the men raised his hand.

Mr. Maxwell’s eyes narrowed. "What is it?"

He jutted his chin toward us. "I just want to know how come they’re allowing just anyone to register to be a racer." His gaze swept over me, Mira, and Roxy with open contempt. "It’s an insult, putting women on the same level as us. This is a man’s fight."

Next to me, Roxy went rigid, a low growl rumbling in her chest. Mira’s grip on her arm tightened, holding her back.

Mr. Maxwell’s expression didn’t change, but his voice dropped to a dangerously calm tone. "Unless you believe you are smarter than the Vexxon brothers and their entire selection committee, I suggest you reconsider your words. The company would not have registered these riders if they did not see them as fit for the role. Do you understand?"

The man scowled but dipped his head in a reluctant, sullen nod. "Yeah. Understood."

The men fell silent, but their eyes said everything their mouths couldn’t. The message was clear: we were not welcome.

Mr. Maxwell finished his grim welcome speech, outlining the brutal training schedule and reminding us, once again, that we were all probably going to die. "You can begin your preliminary practice sessions. The rest of you, with me to get assigned your vehicles."

As soon as he turned and walked away, the tense silence shattered. The group began to disperse, but the man who had spoken out immediately swaggered over, blocking Roxy’s path.

"Listen," he sneered, looking down at her. "If you ladies are that desperate for attention, you should’ve just gone to a club. This is pathetic." He shook his head with a mocking laugh. "You really signed up to get yourselves killed for what? You think you can actually go against a rogue?"

A few of his buddies gathered behind him, chuckling and nodding in agreement. One of them called out, "Yeah, go back to the kitchen where you belong!"

Roxy didn’t tense up. Instead, she let out a short, sharp scoff of laughter that was far more insulting.

The man’s smug expression faltered. "What?" he demanded, his face flushing. "What’s so funny?"

Roxy tilted her head, a predator examining something particularly stupid. "You," she said, her voice dripping with disdain. "You’re funny. If you were half the expert you pretend to be, you’d have recognized me the second I walked up. But you didn’t. I didn’t even know you existed until you opened your mouth."

The man’s face contorted in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

One of the other men, suddenly paled. He elbowed the big guy. "Dude. That’s... that’s Roxy.A popular racer at Greyfall Alley.."

Roxy’s grin was all teeth. "See? Someone has a functioning brain cell. And since you brought yourselves to my attention," she said, her gaze sweeping over the group, "how’s that other idiot? What was his name... Razor? Yeah. Surprised he’s not here.Did her had a sudden change of heart about his career?"

The first man’s face flushed a deep, embarrassed red. He crossed his arms, trying to reclaim some dignity. "So what? Just because you were some local champion in a back-alley nobody cares about doesn’t mean you can compete with the big dogs here. This is the real deal."

"We’ll see, won’t we? I can’t wait to see the look on your face when this ’local champion’ leaves you choking on my dust."

The man’s ego, thoroughly bruised, couldn’t let it go. "How about we do it now?" he challenged, puffing out his chest. "Right here. Right now."

The second man who’d recognized Roxy shook his head. "Brock, man, I don’t think that’s a good idea—"

"Get lost," Brock snapped, not taking his eyes off Roxy. "Well? Scared?"

Roxy’s smile was a slow, dangerous thing. "Fine. I’ll give you one little pleasure. You choose the layout. Where do you want to lose?"

"The main road course," he declared, a smug grin spreading across his face. "I want everyone to see your humiliation and downfall up close."

Mira stepped forward, her voice low with concern. "Roxy, you don’t have to do this."

Roxy simply raised a hand, silencing her without a glance. "I agree to your demand."

A strange cocktail of unease and excitement churned in my stomach. The air crackled with impending drama. Today was definitely going to be a long day.