The echoes of the crowd still bounced off the steel walls of the freight yard, but all Kaito could hear was the blood pounding in his ears.
Mari.
Standing at the edge of the track, her hands clutched around her phone, rain slicking her uniform blazer. She had seen everything—his helmet, his gloves, his car sliding sideways through smoke and neon. No more lies. No more hiding.
He ripped off his helmet and started toward her, but the crowd parted differently than expected. Reika appeared at his side, all fire and smug confidence, and hooked a finger into his sleeve.
"Congratulations, Phantom Redline," she purred. "Another victory. Another step closer to being mine."
Kaito stiffened.
Mari's eyes flicked to Reika's hand… and for the first time in years, he saw anger in her gaze.
"You…" Mari's voice trembled. "You've been racing. Lying to me. Risking your life while I—while I thought you were just… editing videos in your room."
Kaito stepped forward. "Mari, I—"
"Don't," she snapped. Her voice was too sharp for her small frame, echoing over the lot. "You promised. You said you'd call me first if you were in trouble. And all this time… I was the last to know."
The crowd murmured. Reika raised an eyebrow, smirking at the tension. "Guess the little sister found out. Cute. But maybe you should be thanking him for protecting you. Not throwing a tantrum."
Mari's fists clenched. Her eyes burned with unshed tears. "Who are you to him, anyway?"
Reika stepped closer to Mari, their faces inches apart. "Someone who understands his world. His speed. His heartbeat when the tires scream. Do you?"
The freight yard fell into silence. Even the engines idling nearby seemed to hold their breath.
Kaito moved between them, voice low and urgent. "Enough. Both of you. This isn't the place."
Before anyone could speak again, Z3N's voice cut through the tension: "Final exhibition battle tonight! Overseas challenger!"
A roar of engines signaled the arrival of a black Ferrari F8 Tributo, its headlights slicing the night. It rolled into the circle like a predator surveying prey.
The driver stepped out. A woman. Tall, sharp-featured, blonde hair braided down her back, leather racing suit gleaming under the neon.
"I am Celeste Veyron," she said in lightly accented Japanese. "I've come to claim Crimson Night. Who will face me?"
The crowd erupted.
Kaito felt the weight of Mari's gaze, the heat of Reika's proximity, and the silent challenge in Celeste's words.
He grabbed his helmet.
"I will."
Mari took a step back, whispering to herself. "He's really going to race again… after all this."
Reika glanced at her and smirked. "Watch closely. You'll see why he can't stop. And why you'll never catch him… unless you decide how far you're willing to go."
The LFA rolled to the start line. The Ferrari lined up beside it, engine snarling like an apex predator. Neon reflections danced across the wet asphalt.
Z3N raised his hand. "Three… two… one… GO!"
Tires screamed. The LFA and Ferrari vanished into the night, taillights like twin comets racing toward destiny.
Behind them, Mari and Reika stood side by side, hearts pounding for the same man.
To be continued…