Zara could hear the rhythmic pounding of her own heartbeat as she gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles turning white. The scent of burnt rubber and gasoline clung to the air, a phantom from her past that she couldn't escape, no matter how much she tried. The underground track, hidden in the outskirts of the city, was exactly as she remembered it—its cracked asphalt and flickering floodlights casting long, ghostly shadows. The past had come back to haunt her, and she wasn't sure if she was ready to face it.
She had sworn she wouldn't return, had promised herself that racing was a closed chapter in her life. But here she was, standing at the edge of a world she had abandoned, drawn back in by whispers of secrets buried in speed and smoke. The engine purred beneath her fingers, a low hum of temptation. The night air carried the distant cheers of spectators, the murmur of bets being placed, and the unmistakable sound of engines growling in anticipation.
"Are you sure about this?" Noor's voice cut through the hum of engines revving in the distance. She stood at Zara's side, arms crossed, her expression equal parts concern and determination. "You don't have to do this, Zara."
Zara swallowed hard. "I need answers."
She wasn't just here for the thrill, though she could feel the adrenaline beginning to seep into her veins, an old, familiar sensation. This was bigger than a race. The memory of her last competition haunted her. The moment everything went wrong, when she lost everything—the win, her reputation, and the one person she thought she could trust. Now, whispers of a shadow racer, someone who seemed to move like a ghost on the track, had reached her ears. If there was any chance of uncovering the truth behind her fall, she had to take it.
She slid into the driver's seat, her fingers running along the familiar ridges of the custom wheel. The moment she revved the engine, a new car pulled up beside her, sleek, matte black, with a driver hidden behind tinted windows. A shiver ran down her spine. Something about that car felt… off. It was the same sensation she had the night of her accident. A chill in her bones, a whisper of danger that her instincts screamed at her not to ignore.
The starter signaled, and before she could second-guess herself, she slammed her foot on the accelerator. The world blurred, neon streaks flashing past. The wind roared in her ears as she maneuvered through the tight turns, her instincts kicking in like second nature. The rush was intoxicating, her hands steady, her mind clear. For the first time in a long while, she felt like she belonged. But she wasn't alone. The shadow beside her matched her move for move, refusing to let her gain even an inch.
As they hit the final stretch, the black car veered close—too close. A move meant to intimidate. Zara clenched her jaw, keeping steady, refusing to be rattled. The crowd was a blur of color in the periphery of her vision, her focus narrowed to the track ahead. But then, something flickered in the corner of her eye—a movement from the driver's seat. A familiar gesture. A ghost from her past.
Her heart slammed against her ribs as she barely crossed the finish line. The black car didn't stop. It kept going, vanishing into the night like a phantom, disappearing into the shadows as if it had never been there at all.
Zara yanked off her helmet, breathless. Noor ran up to her, eyes wide. "Zara… did you see who it was?"
Zara shook her head, her pulse pounding. She didn't see. But she knew.
The past wasn't done with her yet.
She turned to the empty road ahead, the taillights of the mysterious car long gone. But it wasn't over. Not by a long shot.