Micah
“Whereareyougoing?”a voice asked from behind me.
I turn on my heel to spot Talon standing behind me, a serious look on his tense face. I know that Talon told Ason about my little stunt, and now I’m about to get my ass chewed out.
Anger courses through me.
Not this again.
Ever since Ason left for college and decided that he didn’t want to be the Capo of the Antoni Mafia Family, Talon had been trying to step into the coveted role. However, what he was really doing was getting on my last damn nerve.
I knew that unlike Talon, Gabby, and Ason, I had more to prove to gain my role in the Antoni Mafia Family. Ason was the son of the Capo; his place was granted at birth. Talon was Chance Antoni’s son and of course, he already had a place next to Ason. Gabby was Solly and Gia’s son and she already had Antoni blood coursing through her veins. As for me, my father Ryder, had to fight his way into the mafia. One day, I would walk alongside them all and would do it still racing my bike and chasing highs. Because if I am being honest with myself, racing is what truly gives me pleasure. It’s an incredible high that can only be found when you are driving at speeds that cause the world around you to fade away.Acting out and doing stunts like I did last night... well, that rush is short-lived. Racing, that is wild and dangerous, and I can never get enough of it.
Holding tightly to my bike—a Kawasaki Ninja 400, I push it out of my parent’s massive four-car garage. It had been a Christmas present that I had begged my mom to get me. After I wrecked my Porsche, I was worried that they wouldn’t get me another expensive and fast vehicle. Thankfully, I was wrong.
“Out,” I say, trying to slip past him.
Talon slides over and blocks my path. His massive frame towers over me and his t-shirt looks like it is about to rip right off his large muscles. He knows exactly where I am going tonight and that is exactly why this whole song and dance routine is getting on my nerves.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Talon releases a heavy breath. “Why are you so hell-bent on being an idiot?” Talon asks me. Leaning in closer so only I can hear what he is saying he adds, “Didn’t you get enough adrenaline last night? That stupid fucking stunt could have killed you,” he seethed.
I hate when he talks down to me. I’m a senior just like him, but Talon has always acted as though I needed someone to watch over me.
“I guess I just love watching you get angry. By the way, you look like the Incredible Hulk in that shirt,” I laugh, pointing my index finger into his brick-like chest.
Talon lunges at me, but I side-step him and jump on my bike. He curses as I kick off the stand and start the engine. Even though we drive one another crazy, Talon and I are brothers. No one else in this world can insult us the way we can. We are family and that will never change—regardless of what any of us does.
And last night was just another reminder that no matter how many stupid things I do, he will always be there for me.
I drive off laughing, imagining Talon’s red face as he watches my taillights disappear into the darkness. I enjoy the ride all the way to the fancy racetrack at the back of Will Zammer’s property. Everyone at school knows that we love to race at midnight. None of us really race for money because we all already have that. Attending Royal Elite Academy in the heart of Savannah, Georgia, makes us royalty around town. Money isn’t something we need, so we race for power and bragging rights. Though, sometimes, it does get old kicking all of their asses.
I zoom through traffic and only laugh when cars honk at me when I cut them off. Taking a sharp right, I drive down a one lane road until the only light is the moon above me. This is my favorite time to ride. The world around me is peaceful and for the time being, I am alone. When I finally reach Will’s property, I can already see the glow of headlights and the roar of engines. My peace is gone, but I am about to experience a new kind of euphoria.
Racing.
As I pull up to the rest of the racers, the crowd that has gathered watches me. I feel their eyes boring into my soul and the excitement of the power in their jealousy only fuels my adrenaline more. While we are all wealthy, they all know that I have something none of them will ever have. I have the mafia on my side. I have a deadly power and prestige their family's wealth just can’t buy.
That’s just another one of the reasons I love racing. When I put on my helmet, I can block out the rest of the world. It’s just me and the road.
I pull up to the starting line and then hop off my bike. I spot Will sitting in a fold-out chair and his wide grin tells me that he’s already buzzed. He pulls a joint to his lips and takes a heavy puff.
“Micah Lee. I didn’t think I’d see you here again,” he says slowly.
A few people eye me, but no one dares to say anything. They are too busy entering the names on our private social media group where we get the race details and locations. All racers have to comment they are going to race so they can get qualified.
Shaking my head, I narrow my eyes at him. “Why wouldn’t I be back?” I question.
Leaning down, I take the joint from his hand and bring the weed up to my lips. I take in a draw and then exhale the smoke in a large puff.
“Just thought you got your kicks already. But no worries. Join the race and let’s get this shit started.” Will claps, stealing his joint back.
Laughing, I shake my head as I turn and make my way back toward my bike. “No way, man. There isn’t a high I won’t chase,” I shout over my shoulder.
When the race begins, I don’t hesitate to rev my engine and push my accelerator as far as it will go. My bike jumps, but it moves with ease through the freshly paved track. The other racers keep up with me, but none dare to try and pass me—even though I know their bikes have just as much power and speed as mine does. A spark of anger flares inside of me and I roar out a curse. Why won’t they try and pass me?
I want them to push me to the limit. I need competition; to feel adrenaline course through my veins at the thought of someone beating me. To give me a reason to push myself and my bike harder and faster. Wind rushes all around me as I glance side-to-side at my opponents. When I cross the finish line, I don’t get the rush I had been chasing after.
And now, I’m fucking enraged.