Chapter 10: Tangled Bonds

Monday morning slammed into the track with a vengeance, the desert wind howling like it had something to prove. Tessa rolled in at 6:50 AM, her pickup rattling over the gravel, her head a mess of half-formed thoughts. The weekend had left her raw—Julian's words, his nearness, the keychain still in her pocket like a talisman she couldn't ditch. She'd spent Sunday pacing her apartment, then riding her old backup bike through backroads 'til midnight, trying to outrun the pull she felt. It hadn't worked.The pit was alive when she arrived—mechanics clanging tools, riders shouting over engines, a frenetic edge to it all. Her ZX-10R sat under the canopy, gleaming and untouched, Pete hovering nearby like a guard dog. Julian was there too, in his black jacket, talking to Marcus with a tension in his shoulders she hadn't seen before. He spotted her, his green eyes cutting through the chaos, and nodded—a small gesture, but it hit her like a spark."Morning," he said as she approached, his voice steady but tight. "Ready to push?""Always," she replied, dropping her bag. She pulled on her gloves, avoiding his gaze. "What's the play?""Race sims," he said, grabbing his clipboard. "Full field—ten riders, twenty laps. Real conditions. Sponsors want data, and I want you sharp."She smirked, strapping on her helmet. "Sharp's my default.""Good," he shot back, a faint grin breaking through. "Prove it."The track was a battlefield. Ten bikes roared to life, Tessa in the middle, her green ZX-10R a streak among the pack. The start was chaos—tires squealing, engines snarling, riders jostling for position. She gunned it, weaving through the fray, her instincts kicking in hard. Julian's voice crackled in her earpiece: "Hold your line, Kane. Let 'em burn out." She did, settling into third, then second, her focus a blade cutting through the noise.By lap five, she took the lead, hitting 1:41 on the straightaway, the pack fading behind her. The wind tore at her, the bike vibrating under her hands, and she leaned into it—every turn, every shift, a dance she'd mastered. She crossed the finish at 1:40, two seconds ahead of the next rider, and rolled into the pit with her heart pounding, adrenaline singing in her veins.Julian was there, stopwatch in hand, his grin wider than usual. "1:40 flat," he said, voice alive. "You smoked 'em.""Damn right," she replied, yanking off her helmet. Her hair spilled out, damp with sweat, and she caught him staring—not at her time, at her. It threw her, and she covered it with a smirk. "Told you I'm sharp.""Sharper than I thought," he said, stepping closer. "You're ready for this, Tessa. More than ready."Her name again—low, deliberate—and it hit her like a punch. She swallowed, nodding. "Good. Let's keep it that way."The morning stretched into a blur of runs and tweaks. Tessa stayed in the lead, her times consistent, the pack no match. Julian watched from the pit, barking orders through the radio, his presence a steady hum she couldn't shake. By noon, the other riders peeled off—exhausted, outclassed—and it was just her, pushing solo laps, the track hers alone.She pulled in at 1:00, legs shaky but triumphant, and Julian handed her a water. Their fingers brushed, and she didn't pull away this time. "You're relentless," he said, voice softer now, the pit quiet around them."Gotta be," she replied, chugging the water. "No room for soft."He tilted his head, studying her. "You're not soft. But you're not stone either."She froze, caught by the weight in his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?""Means I see you," he said, low and sure. "The fight, the fire—all of it. You don't have to hide it."Her chest tightened, a crack forming she couldn't patch. "I don't hide," she lied, but her voice wavered, betraying her.He stepped closer, close enough she could feel his heat. "You do. But you don't have to with me."The air locked, their breaths syncing, and she didn't move—couldn't. His hand lifted, hovering near her arm, then dropped. "Tessa—" he started, but a shout cut him off."Voss!" Marcus barreled over, his face red. "We've got a problem—big one."Julian turned, tension snapping back into his frame. "What now?"Marcus thrust a phone at him, a video playing—grainy security footage from the pit, timestamped last night. A figure in a hoodie, face obscured, slipped under the canopy, tools glinting in their hand. They knelt by Tessa's bike, then vanished into the dark. "Found it this morning," Marcus said, voice tight. "Checked the bike—fuel line's nicked. Not enough to spot 'til it's too late."Tessa's stomach dropped, anger flaring hot. "Again? Who the hell—""Elliot," Julian growled, handing the phone back. "Or someone he's got on the inside. This isn't random."Marcus nodded. "Security's on it—cameras upped, crew locked out 'til we vet 'em. But this is bad, Julian. Sponsors hear this, they're gone.""They won't," Julian said, his tone like steel. He turned to Tessa. "You're still riding. We're not letting this stop us."She clenched her fists, the keychain digging into her palm through her pocket. "Damn right I'm riding. They want me out, they'll have to drag me off."He nodded, a fierce glint in his eyes. "That's my girl."The words slipped out, unguarded, and they both froze. Her pulse spiked, his face flushing faintly, but neither backed off. Marcus coughed, breaking it. "I'll, uh, handle the crew," he muttered, and bolted.The afternoon was a war zone. Julian doubled security—guards at every entrance, cameras sweeping the pit—while Tessa ran more laps, defiance in every turn. Her bike held, Pete swearing the nick was patched, but the threat lingered, a shadow she couldn't outrun. She hit 1:40 again, then 1:39, pushing past fear, past doubt, past the crack Julian had opened in her armor.They wrapped at dusk, the track empty, the wind howling. Tessa lingered by her bike, wiping it down, her mind churning—sabotage, Julian, the way he'd called her his girl. It rattled her, how much she didn't hate it.He found her there, jacket off, sleeves rolled up. "You okay?" he asked, voice low."Fine," she said, not looking up. "Pissed, but fine."He leaned against the bike, close but not touching. "We'll find 'em. I promise."She nodded, then met his eyes. "Why'd you say it?""Say what?" he asked, but he knew."My girl," she said, voice steady but sharp. "What's that about?"He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "Slipped out. Meant it, though. Not like—hell, not ownership. Just… you're in this with me. Deep."Her throat tightened, his honesty a blade she couldn't dodge. "Yeah, well, you're in it with me too," she admitted, low and rough. "Deeper than I planned."He smiled, small but real. "Good. I'd hate to be alone in that."She smirked, masking the warmth flooding her chest. "You're not."They stood there, the gap closing without moving, a bond tangling tighter than either expected.That night, Tessa hit Milo's shop, spilling it all—the sabotage, the video, Julian's words. Milo listened, tinkering with a headlight, then set it down. "He's got your back, Tess. More than that, sounds like.""Shut up," she muttered, but her face heated. "It's complicated.""Always is," he said, smirking. "Just don't crash over it."She left with a laugh, but the weight stayed—Julian, the threat, the race. She was in deep, and there was no pulling out.Julian stayed at the track, reviewing the footage frame by frame. The figure was a ghost—no face, no clues—but he'd find them. Tessa was his line now, his fight, and he'd burn it all down before letting her fall. My girl. He'd meant it, and it scared him—how fast she'd become his center, how much he'd risk for her.Tessa slept with the keychain in her hand, dreams of racing and Julian's voice pulling her through. She woke at dawn, resolved—she'd ride, she'd win, and she'd figure out what this was, one lap at a time.