Chapter 176
Chapter 176:
Milly sat in the stands with her gaze locked on Colin. He was pitched forward, every muscle strung tight, his expression carved with raw unease. The sight unsettled her more than she cared to admit.
Her hand drifted protectively to her stomach, brushing over the life inside her—the only card she had left to play.
Losing simply wasn’t an option.
On the track, the final lap ignited into a battle of nerves and steel. The black and white cars tore across the asphalt, engines bellowing like a storm unleashed, the gap between them barely the length of a bumper.
One moment the black car surged ahead, the next the white car reclaimed the lead, their relentless dance whipping the crowd into breathless silence.
Colin’s palms grew clammy as the weight of realization settled over him—Brinley had never truly been his.
She belonged to the roar of engines, to the wild, untamed freedom of the track.
The finish line loomed, and both Austin and Brinley slammed their accelerators almost in unison, their cars lunging forward in a final burst of speed.
As they crossed the line, Austin’s eyes softened, lingering on the white car with quiet affection.
Brinley’s glance at the black car beside her carried a storm of emotions. The precision, the daring edge in that driving—there was no mistaking it.
𝘋on’𝘵 𝗆𝘪𝘴ѕ 𝗻𝖾w 𝗋𝖾𝗅е𝗮𝘀es 𝗼ո
This was Nightblade.
The signal marking the finish echoed through the arena, and the stands erupted into deafening cheers that rattled the walls. On the massive screen overhead, the names “Nightblade” and “Brinley Moore” flashed side by side at the top, their recorded times identical down to the millisecond.
One by one, the remaining cars streaked past the line, but the nearest contender lagged nearly ten seconds behind.
That gulf on the track felt like an unbridgeable canyon, underscoring just how extraordinary the dead heat for first place truly was.
Brinley unclasped her helmet and pulled it free as the breeze cooled the sweat along her temples. Her eyes immediately found the black car idling just a few paces away.
Austin kept his helmet on, standing still as his gaze lingered on her.
When they reached the podium and paused at the steps, both extended their hands in the ritual of ceremony.
Their palms met, and Brinley let out a light, certain laugh. “Nightblade?” she asked, lifting her chin to meet the depth of his eyes, her voice edged with certainty.
His thumb traced a deliberate line across her skin, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest. “Looks like we’ve both been keeping secrets p>
In that charged silence, their eyes locked, and words became unnecessary.
Behind the podium, Ballard, Dominik, and the others stood cloaked in shadow, their faces stiff with frustration.
A sea of reporters surged closer, microphones nearly grazing their mouths.