Chapter 7

Jace:

The tide always came in around six. Didn't matter if the world was ending. Didn't matter if you were five years old cannonballing off the dock or twenty-seven carrying enough guilt to sink a boat. The tide came in anyway. I sat at the end of my dock with my feet dangling over the edge, a beer sweating beside me and my old Zippo flipping lazily between my fingers. Click. Snap. Click. Snap. The water rolled beneath the dock, carrying patches of marsh grass out toward the bay. Pelicans skimmed low across the surface, disappearing into the orange glow settling over Calusa Cove.

Sunsets hit different here. The sky didn't just change colors. It exploded. Burnt oranges melted into hot pinks before fading into lavender over the skyline. The glass towers of Eastside caught the light first, turning gold while Riverside stayed wrapped in warm shadows. Camden used to swear Riverside got cheated. "Rich folks even steal the damn sunset." I chuckled to myself. "You'd still complain."

The screen door behind me slammed shut. Mom leaned against the porch railing with two glasses of sweet tea. "I figured you were done pretending that beer tastes good."

"It doesn't."

"So why drink it?"

"It makes me feel mysterious."

She snorted. "You couldn't look mysterious if you tried."

She walked down the dock, setting one glass beside me before taking a seat. For a while… We just watched the river. No pressure. No questions. Just the sound of cicadas waking up in the trees. "You see anybody?" Her voice stayed soft.

"Reid."

She nodded. "Duke?"

"No."

"The Millers?"

"Haven't yet."

She glanced at me. "...Calla?"

There it was. I should've known she'd ask eventually. "...Yeah."

Mom looked back toward the water. "How is she?"

I swallowed. "Different."

"I imagine she would be."

"She looked..." I searched for the word. "...Tired."

Mom sighed. "You both do." Neither of us said anything after that.

Her phone buzzed. She stood. "I've gotta finish dinner."

"You don't have to feed me every night."

She smiled. "I know."

"You gonna listen?"

"No."

"Didn't think so."

She kissed the top of my head before heading back toward the house. "You know where I am if your mind gets too loud."

"It usually is."

"I know." She disappeared inside.

A minute later… My own phone buzzed. REID I answered. "You dead?"

"Last I checked."

"Good."

"Why?"

"'Cause there's a race tonight."

I leaned back on my free palm. "I'm retired."

"Bull."

"I mean it."

"You've been home for twenty-four hours."

"Exactly."

"You've mourned enough."

I laughed. "I don't think that's how mourning works."

"It is just a short drive, I think you can manage."

I could hear engines in the background. Music. People shouting. He was already there. "Where?"

"Downtown."

"Legal?"

A pause. "...Define legal."

I smiled. "You're unbelievable."

"I've heard worse."

"I'm not racing."

"I didn't ask you to."

"You literally called about a race."

"I called because you should come."

Silence stretched between us. "You've been sitting on that dock all day, haven't you?"

"...Maybe."

"I know you too well."

"Unfortunately."

"Come out."

"I'm not in the mood."

"You don't have to be."

Another pause. Then… "They're saying Drift Kings own the city now."

That got my attention. "What?"

"You heard me."

"I don't believe that."

"You'll believe it when you see it."

He lowered his voice. "Things changed while you were gone, Jace."

I looked across the river toward Eastside. "What happened?"

"You should come find out."

The line went quiet. "I'll think about it."

"No."

Reid laughed. "You'll shower. You'll put that ugly backwards hat on."

"I don't wear ugly hats."

"You'll drive that Camaro you've been hiding."

"I haven't hidden anything."

"And then you'll meet me downtown."

"...You done?"

"No."

"You buying dinner?"

"I'll buy tacos."

"You're manipulative."

"I learned from professionals."

The call disconnected. I looked at the phone for a second before slipping it into my pocket. "Damn it." He knew me too well. Twenty minutes later… Steam still clung to the bathroom mirror as I dragged a towel through my hair. Showering hadn't fixed anything. It never did. Still… I felt more human. I pulled on a fresh white T-shirt. Loose dark jeans. My worn black Converse. The silver chain rested against my chest the moment I clasped it around my neck. I'd won it when I was seventeen. Some rich kid from Eastside had bet it against his Mustang. Big mistake. I smiled at the memory. One race. One photo finish. One very angry trust fund kid. Best trophy I ever won. I grabbed my old Florida Gators ball cap off the dresser. Held it in my hands for a second. Then tossed it onto my head. Bill forward. For now. Keys. Wallet. Phone. Zippo. I caught myself checking for it twice. Old habits.

Outside, dusk settled over Riverside. Instead of walking toward the truck… I stopped. The door on the old wooden shed stood open. Inside… Hidden beneath a faded gray cover… Sat my Camaro. Slowly… I pulled the cover back. Midnight blue paint. Wide stance. Supercharged Chevrolet Camaro ZL1. The bodywork reflected the fading sunset in ribbons of orange. I'd built her with Camden. Piece by piece. Late nights. Secondhand parts. Countless arguments. He wanted more horsepower. I wanted better handling. We compromised. Like we always did. I ran my hand across the hood. "Been a while." The driver's door opened with a familiar click. The seat hugged me the second I climbed inside. Everything was exactly where I'd left it. The leather smelled faintly of gasoline and old summers. I pressed the ignition. The V8 exploded to life. Deep. Aggressive. Alive. A grin tugged at my lips before I could stop it. "There you are." The engine settled into a low rumble that vibrated through my chest. God… I'd missed this.

I backed slowly down the driveway. Mom stepped onto the porch, her arms crossed. "Thought you were retired."

I rolled down the window. "I am."

She pointed toward the Camaro. "That car says otherwise."

"It missed me."

She laughed. "Be careful."

"I always am."

She raised one eyebrow. "That might be the biggest lie you've ever told."

"...Fair."

I pulled onto River Road. The Camaro hugged every curve like she'd been waiting two years for this exact drive. Windows down. Supercharger whining softly. The river flashing beside me. Home.

Downtown Calusa Cove came alive after dark. Neon signs reflected off polished storefront windows. Restaurants spilled onto sidewalks. Music poured from rooftop bars. Luxury cars lined the streets beside beat-up project builds with more horsepower than paint. The meet filled an abandoned waterfront lot overlooking the marina. Hundreds of people. Dozens of cars. The city's heartbeat. I spotted Reid immediately, mostly because he still refused to wear a shirt. He leaned against his Nova, talking animatedly to a group of younger drivers. When he saw the Camaro… He whistled. "Damn. You cleaned her."

"I washed off the depression."

"Looks expensive."

"It wasn't."

"Emotionally?"

"...Very."

He clapped me on the shoulder. "C'mon."

We started weaving through the crowd. "So..." He nodded toward a matte gray Nissan GT-R. "That one's Kairo." Young, maybe twenty-two, at best. Covered in tattoos. Built like a linebacker.

"Fast?"

"Very."

Another car. Orange Toyota Supra. "Sisters own that one."

"They good?"

"They'll embarrass ninety percent of this city."

We kept walking. "See the blue Corvette?"

I nodded.

"Retired cop."

"...Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"He races?"

"He gambles."

"Huh."

A group of younger guys looked my way. Whispered. One recognized me. The whispers spread. Reid ignored it. "They'll get over it."

"Will they?"

"No."

"Thanks."

"But they'll get bored eventually."

We reached the center of the lot. That's when I noticed something. Every conversation. Every car. Every race sheet taped to the wall. One symbol. A black crown painted above crossed drift tires. "What is that?"

Reid's smile disappeared. "The Drift Kings."

I frowned. "They're everywhere."

"I know."

"What happened to Riverside?"

"They still race."

"The Reapers?"

"They stay mostly around the port."

I looked around again. BMWs. Supras. RX-7s. Silvia builds. Money. Lots of money. The old muscle cars had been pushed to the edges, like they were visitors in their own city.

"This..." I shook my head. "This isn't Calusa Cove."

Reid followed my gaze. "No." His voice was quiet. "It isn't." He looked toward the skyline of Eastside, where lights glittered across the water like diamonds. "They didn't just take the races." I looked at him. He met my eyes. "They took the city."