Douglas let out a low chuckle, his gaze pinned to her delicate profile on the screen. His lips curled into a thoroughly entertained smile. "Looks like you've exposed yourself, Serena."
That silhouette. That gaze.
It was a perfect match for the woman in the silver mask who had stolen his billion- dollar chip. There was no denying it now.
"Ah! Oh my God! She's flying! She's actually flying!"
"Is this the legendary cliffside dance?! How is she doing this?!"
The stadium descended into absolute pandemonium.
With a heavy thud, the pink supercar stuck the landing on the other side of the canyon. The tires gripped the asphalt, and she continued tearing down the track.
That single jump had left Hurricane eating her dust. She was now holding an insurmountable lead. The race was effectively over.
Anna slammed on her brakes, staring at the distant pink taillights. Her bloodshot eyes swam with toxic jealousy and sheer terror.
She couldn't lose. She refused to lose to Serena! She would rather die than be humiliated by some country bumpkin.
The last thread of Anna's sanity snapped. Gripping the wheel, she floored the gas and violently veered off the main track, tearing down the emergency service road.
The service road was strictly for ambulances and rescue teams. Using it was the ultimate taboo in racing. Even in a lawless Death Track match, the unspoken rule was that you kept the fight on the asphalt.
But Anna no longer cared. She bypassed the entire section, intending to ambush Serena at the exit of the third curve.
"Go to hell, Serena!"
Anna laughed hysterically, driving her car like a battering ram as she merged back onto the track, aiming straight for the side of Serena's car.
The third curve was sharp and treacherous. Anna was driving like a maniac, completely ignoring her own
at top
at
safety. Serena was mov now
speed T-bone collision right now would send her instantly flying off the cliff.
"She's crazy! That's blatant cheating!"
"Six against one was already disgusting, but using the service road? That's a
disgrace to the sport!"
"Anna is the shame of racing! She doesn't belong on a track!"
"Shame of racing! Shame of racing!"
The crowd chanted in outrage. They loved the thrill of danger, but this was a cowardly honorless move. If everyone used the service roads, the sport meant nothing.
But Anna couldn't hear their
screams. Her mind was entirely
consumed by the image of Serena plummeting to her death with
bloodshot eyes, she locked onto the pink car.
Through the window, she caught a glimpse of Serena's face.
Serena was smiling.
It wasn't a smile of fear. It was a look of profound, mocking pity—like a predator watching a clown throw a tantrum.
Anna's heart lurched. Serena wasn't supposed to look like that. She was supposed to be screaming, crying, and begging for mercy.