The night was alive.
Engines roared like beasts in the dark, tires screeched against asphalt, and the air smelled of gasoline, smoke, and adrenaline. Neon lights cut through the shadows, painting the hidden lot on the edge of town in pulsing colors.
This wasn't Ridgewood High. This wasn't Friday night football. This was Lila's world.
She tugged her helmet down, leather jacket clinging to her frame, braid tucked tight against her neck. To the crowd, she wasn't Lila Hart—the coach's daughter, the junior who caught perfect passes, the girl caught between her overprotective brother and the obsessed quarterback.
Out here, she was Black Angel.
The undefeated street racer no one dared to challenge.
Her bike purred beneath her, sleek black with red stripes, customized to be as fast and deadly as she was.
"Ready to smoke 'em, Black Angel?" one of the racers taunted, revving his engine beside her.
Lila just smirked beneath her helmet. "Hope you said goodbye to your pride."
The flag dropped.
And she flew.
Wind whipped past her, the world blurring into streaks of color. She leaned into the curves, every movement precise, fearless. The crowd screamed as she cut the lead within seconds, weaving through opponents like they were standing still.
By the time she crossed the finish line, the others were eating her dust. Again.
Cheers erupted. Money changed hands. "Black Angel!" they shouted. "Queen of the streets!"
Lila lifted her helmet just enough to smirk, letting the adrenaline buzz through her veins. For a moment, she wasn't trapped between brothers and quarterbacks, whispers and cafeteria drama. She was free.
But what she didn't know—what she couldn't know—was that someone else had found their way into her world tonight.
Ethan Cole leaned against his car at the edge of the crowd, his dark eyes locked on her like a hunter watching prey.
He'd come out here with Lukas and Zane, just looking for kicks. A race, a distraction, something to blow off steam. He hadn't expected her.
Lila Hart.
Helmet off now, sweat-damp hair clinging to her face, smirk sharp enough to cut glass. She moved through the crowd like she belonged to no one and nothing. Untouchable.
And Ethan… couldn't look away.
"She's insane," Lukas muttered beside him. "No way that's little Hart. No way."
But Ethan knew. He always knew.
"That's her," he said, voice low, certain.
And in that moment, his obsession deepened into something darker. Something hungrier.
She wasn't just the stubborn junior who fought him at practice, who glared at him in class. She wasn't just his teammate's little sister.
She was a secret. A storm. A queen in her own right.
And Ethan Cole didn't share.
A slow smirk spread across his face as he watched her swing a leg over her bike again, ready for another race.
"She thinks she can hide this from me," he murmured. "Cute."
His eyes burned with the promise.
"Lila Hart, you're mine. On the field, in the hallways, and here. You just don't know it yet."