The atmosphere at Aurelian Academy changed on Friday nights. The teachers left, the gates were locked, and the "Underground Club" took over the massive rear parking lot. This was the territory of the Silver Serpents, a rival school known for street racing and raw power.
"Aurelian is getting soft," the leader of the Serpents, a guy named Zephyr with a scar across his brow, laughed. "I heard your 'King' Jaxon almost got crushed by a gate. Maybe you all need to move to a nursing home?"
Jaxon stood at the front of the Class S crowd, his jaw tight. Beside him, Chloe was clinging to his arm, looking pale.
"We don't race thugs, Zephyr," Jaxon said coldly.
"Then hand over the 'Golden Key' to the Inter-School Pavilion," Zephyr countered, revving his modified Kawasaki Ninja. "Or race me. One lap around the Serpent's Tail—the mountain pass. If you lose, Class S loses its prestige."
Jaxon looked at his sleek Lamborghini. He was a good driver, but the Serpent's Tail was a death trap of hairpin turns. He knew he was being baited.
"I'll do it," a quiet, steady voice rang out.
The crowd parted. Yuna Vane walked forward, still in her oversized hoodie, her hands shoved in her pockets.
"Yuna, get back!" Jaxon hissed, grabbing her shoulder. "This isn't a math equation. You'll get killed."
Yuna looked at Jaxon's hand on her shoulder, then up at his eyes. For a split second, the "nerd" mask slipped, and he saw a flicker of something ancient and dangerous. "I don't like losing things that belong to my school, Jaxon. Even a school as annoying as this one."
Zephyr roared with laughter. "The scholarship girl wants to race? On what? A bicycle?"
Yuna ignored him and walked toward a dusty, tarp-covered bike in the corner of the garage—a bike no one had touched in years. She ripped the tarp off. It was a Ducati Panigale V4 R, matte black and stripped of all unnecessary weight.
"That's the 'Ghost Bike,'" someone whispered. "Nobody has been able to start that engine since the pro racer vanished three years ago."
Yuna hopped on. She didn't use a key. She pulled a small device from her pocket, plugged it into the bike's port, and typed three lines of code.
VROOM.
The engine didn't just start; it screamed. The sound was like a predator waking up from a long sleep.
"Three minutes," Yuna said, snapping a black helmet shut over her face. "That's how long it will take me to finish the circuit. Start the clock."