One of the race organizers—a thick-necked asshole with bravado dripping from every step—pushed through the crowd, his expression twisted into something like forced confidence. He stopped just short of Kane, squaring his shoulders in an attempt to hold his ground.
“This isn’t your territory.” He lifted his chin defiantly. “You’ve got no claim here.”
Kane didn’t blink, just stared at him with a calm, deadly intensity that could strip paint off walls. “You’re mistaken. Everything around here is Redline Kings’ territory. You were borrowing it without permission. Time to pay up and get the fuck outta here.”
The man sneered, but it was all show. Sweat already beaded along his forehead, betraying his fear. “We’re not going anywhere.”
Kane tilted his head slightly, his eyes never leaving the man’s face. “I disagree.”
I stepped forward, nodding toward Racer and Fury, signaling them to start rounding up key players. “You boys had a good run skimming off our territory, but that shit ends tonight.”
Racer moved through the crowd, grabbing two men by the collars and shoving them toward the waiting SUVs. Fury followed suit, dragging another organizer from the group with methodical efficiency. The crowd shrank back, murmurs of fear rippling sharply among them as they watched, helpless and unwilling to challenge our authority.
“You can’t do this!” the man in front of Kane spat angrily. “We have powerful backing?—”
“We know,” I cut in, stepping forward until I stood shoulder to shoulder with Kane, my voice dropping to a darker edge. “Your corporate sponsors aren’t gonna save you this time. They’re about to find out they fucked with the wrong crew.”
His expression shifted from defiance to uncertainty, his eyes flickering briefly toward the men being loaded into the SUVs, their struggles futile against Racer’s deadly hold.
“Clear out,” Kane barked to the rest of the crowd. Chaos erupted as drivers, spectators, and anyone else sane enough to get their asses far from the action, scattered immediately, shouting and fleeing into the darkness.
When the space was clear of innocent bystanders and all that was left belonged to the crew running these shit races, Kane glanced toward Nitro and gave a small nod. His grin widened as he flipped the detonator once more between his fingers, his eyes bright with anticipation. “Say goodbye to your toys, boys.”
An explosion ripped through the night air seconds later, barrels of fuel and stacks of tires igniting in rapid succession. Flames erupted skyward, heat rolling fiercely across the gravel, illuminating the stunned, terrified faces of everyone still present.
As Nitro stepped back, a satisfied smirk curved his mouth. Anyone remaining went running while the equipment and makeshift structures went up in smoke. Then it was only Redline Kings, unmoving, watching the destruction unfold as the firelight flickered sharply across our faces.
Edge chuckled dryly, glancing around the blazing scene with satisfaction. “Seems their little racing venture just went up in flames.”
Kane exhaled and tossed his brother a droll frown. “Callie get off on your lame humor? Or you reserve that shit just for us?”
“I’m fucking hilarious,” Edge retorted.
“Fucking psycho is more like it,” Rev muttered.
Edge just shrugged and flashed him that movie-star smile that fooled people into thinking he was relatively harmless. Until he was carving out little pieces of you with his favorite blade.
Drift was already sitting astride his bike and gunned the engine. “We fucking done here?”
“You got someone waiting up on your pussy-whipped ass?” Rev smirked.
Drift cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes. “Bet your ass I do. Jealous?”
Rev didn’t respond, just cranked up his engine and put on his helmet.
“Roll out,” Kane ordered.
As we turned our bikes back toward Crossbend, the SUVs following close behind with our unwilling guests, my mind was already locked on the next step. It was time to finish this.
We hauled the bastards back to The Pit. The second we rolled in, I saw Gauge, Century, and Blitz already waiting for us by the entrance, their faces stony and unreadable in the harsh security lighting. They didn’t speak as we unloaded the men, who stumbled and swore as Racer and Nitro roughly shoved them toward the back entrance.
We moved quietly through the dim, concrete stairwell that led down into the hidden underbelly of The Pit. The air grew colder the deeper we went, each echoing footstep punctuating the heavy silence. Two levels down, where even the faintest sounds from the outside world vanished entirely, was our destination. The containment cells—rooms built from reinforced concrete and industrial-grade steel, each designed to keep secrets and screams buried beneath layers of impenetrable isolation.
These cells weren’t places to stash prisoners; they were carefully constructed cages where information was forciblyextracted. Where enemies sometimes went to vanish, and Redline justice was delivered without witnesses.
Once down there, Nitro shoved the captured men into separate cells, the reinforced steel doors slamming shut with a sound that echoed off cold concrete walls. They looked nervous, their eyes darting anxiously around as the realization of their new surroundings sank in. No signals or communication, and no fucking way out.
Kane stood nearby, his presence filling the room with absolute authority. Edge stood beside him with an expression of calm menace, twirling his knife slowly between his fingers as if deciding exactly which joint to remove first.