Chapter 27. Crownless Ride (1)

The Ridge smoldered behind them.

Smoke lie low over the broken stretch like a bruise, winding through the frames of dead floodlights and twisted rigs. Headlamps blinked out one by one, dimming to coals and then to nothing. Metal ticked as it cooled. Somewhere in the canyon something slid, clattered, and kept falling until the sound went thin and the dark swallowed it whole.

The Wolves were broken.

Some had already run—thin engine notes fading like a lie told to the night. Others crouched where the dust turned to paste under their knees, hands red, eyes hollowed to pits. Rivals hung on the edges with their bikes idling, laughter sharp, faces half-ghosted by smoke. They didn’t rush in. Not yet. Not after watching a crown turn to cinders.

Axel stood at the far strip of asphalt with his helmet hanging from his fingers and breath pulling hard in and out. The line of dried blood along his jaw made his mouth look crueler than his eyes could keep up with. His hands t