CHAPTER SIX.:.Part Two: The Race
The sound that began it all wasn't loud.
It wasn't ceremonial.
It didn't feel important.
It was just a sharp crack—metal striking metal—thin and sudden, slicing clean through the air.
And in that instant, everything that had been waiting finally moved.
For a fraction of a second, the world stalled.
Engines vibrated beneath idle pressure.
Tires pressed into the road like coiled muscles.
Breath caught in throats—students, teachers, even the sky itself seemed to pause.
Noel Madison didn't look at the crowd.
He didn't look at Alex.
He looked straight ahead.
The road stretched forward like a promise he never made.
His hands rested on the steering wheel—not tense, not loose.
Familiar.
The Ferrari beneath him hummed softly, controlled, refined, as though it didn't need to prove its strength.
Beside him, Alexander Wilson's car growled.
It was louder.
Sharper.
Hungry.
The sound alone demanded attention.
A BMW M8 Competition (Coupe, Convertible, Gran Coupe): Features a 4.4L twin-turbo V8 with 617 hp, achieving 0-60 mph in ~3.0s.
Alex thrived on that. He boasted with the roar
Noel ignored it.
The Race started.
The Gun echoed.
Both cars exploded forward.
The force slammed Noel back into his seat, but he didn't flinch.
First gear—clean. No wasted motion. No panic.
Just motion unfolding exactly as it should.
The noise from the crowd vanished instantly.
Not because it stopped.
Because it no longer mattered.
Second gear.
Third.
Wind screamed past the windows.
The world blurred at the edges, colors stretching into streaks of asphalt and sky.
Noel didn't rush.
He never did.
Alexander Wilson.
Alex floored it.
Harder than he should have.
The car surged violently, roaring like a beast unchained.
The sound thrilled him—students gasped, phones tilted, streams gping on ,mouths opened.
This was what he lived for.
Look at me.
He stole a glance sideways.
Noel was already moving—smooth, precise, infuriatingly calm.
No grin.
No tension.
No fear.
Alex's jaw tightened.
He thinks he's better than me.
Third gear screamed in protest as Alex pushed early, too early, adrenaline flooding his bloodstream.
His heart pounded—not with excitement, but with something sharper.
Desperation.
The Course
The route wasn't meant to be kind.
The road curved sharply after the first stretch, dipping where old pavement cracked beneath years of neglect.
Dust kicked up near abandoned construction zones.
The surface shifted unpredictably—perfect for mistakes.
Alex attacked the first turn aggressively.
Tires screeched.
The car skidded.
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd.
Alex corrected just in time, pulse hammering violently in his ears.
He laughed once—breathless, forced.
Still got it.
But when he checked his mirror—
Noel was closer.
Noel.
He saw the mistake before it happened.
He always did.
Alex drove like the world was watching.
Noel drove like the road was listening.
He eased into the curve, letting gravity work for him instead of against him.
The Ferrari hugged the bend effortlessly, tires gripping with quiet confidence.
He didn't chase.
He waited.
The pain crept in slowly—his ribs tightening, bruises whispering reminders of what his body had already endured.
His wrist throbbed faintly, swelling hidden beneath fabric.
He welcomed it.
Pain grounded him.
Pain meant now.
Memory gripping his hands
For a split second, the road dissolved.
A scream.
A gunshot echoing louder than engines ever could.
His mother's hands shoving him away.
The weightlessness of falling.
Noel's breath hitched.
His grip tightened.
Not here.
Not now.
The Ferrari surged forward as he pushed past the memory.
Mid-Race Alex was still taking the lead.
They tore through the center stretch side by side now.
Phones flashed like distant stars.
The crowd had gone eerily quiet—no cheers, no chants.
Just the sound of engines tearing through air and the sharp whistle of speed.
Alex glanced over.
Their eyes met briefly.
Alex's were burning.
Noel's were unreadable.
That infuriated Alex more than losing ever could.
He pushed harder.
The car protested.
Alexander's pov
Why wasn't he pulling away?
He had the better build.
The louder engine.
The reputation.
This was supposed to be his moment.
This is my school.
Alex shoved the thought down and accelerated harder, ignoring the subtle loss of control, the warning tremor beneath his tires.
He couldn't lose.
Not to Noel.
Not now.
The final stretch revealed itself—wide, merciless, stretching ahead like judgment.
One hundred meters.
Everything they had left would be spent here.
Noel inhaled slowly.
Then he went all in.
The Ferrari responded instantly, acceleration smooth and devastating.
The distance closed inch by inch until they were perfectly aligned—side by side, mirrors nearly touching.
Wind roared so loudly it drowned thought.
The world narrowed to breath and motion.
Noel edged forward.
Just barely.
Enough.
Alex saw it.
Felt it.
The moment Noel pulled ahead—even by a fraction—something inside Alex snapped.
This wasn't supposed to happen.
Not again.
A flicker of calculation passed through him, sharp and ugly.
Then—He turned.
Metal shrieked.
The sound was violent, unnatural, final.
Alex's car clipped Noel's rear side with brutal precision.
The Ferrari spun.
Time fractured.
Noel's body slammed sideways as the wheel tore against his hands.
The world tilted violently, sky and ground trading places in a blur of white noise and shattered glass.
Pain detonated through his ribs.
Control was foreign to him at that point
The car slammed into the barrier.
Metal crumpled.
The sound echoed far beyond the road.
Silence
For a heartbeat—
Nothing.
Smoke curled upward.
Debris littered the asphalt.
The crowd screamed all at once.
Queensley gasped.
Alex crossed the line alone.
The timer blinked.
Uncertain.
The announcement came flat and hollow:
"Winner… Alexander Wilson."
No one cheered.
Alex slowed, chest heaving.
Something felt wrong.
He looked back.
The Ferrari sat mangled, twisted at an unnatural angle.
For a terrifying moment—
Noel didn't move.
Queensley's scream cut through the silence.
Mediiic!!!!!
Then—
The door creaked open.
Noel stepped out slowly.
Blood traced a thin line down his temple.
His breathing was uneven, shallow, but he was standing.
Every movement cost him something.
The crowd stared.
Phones trembled.
Alex exited his car.
Victory weighed heavy in his hands.
Their eyes met across the ruined road.
Noel didn't accuse him.
Didn't speak.
His silence was worse.
This wasn't over.
This was only the beginning.
End of Chapter Six –