Phantom Racer Novels & Stories

“This is a fucking Droptail, Lucas, what do you mean it's for me? This? This is… for me? It's literally one of the little few made. What–what the fuck?!” His eyes crinkled in amusement. “You don’t like it?” She laughed shakily. “Like it? Lucas, this is…” She trailed off, circling slowly, her palm gliding over the flawless hood as if it might vanish if she wasn’t gentle enough. Her gaze snagged on the Spirit of Ecstasy emblem, catching sunlight like a diamond. “You bought me a Phantom. Not just a Royce—Droptail . Do you know how insane this is? How much this fucking cost?”

It was a death trap disguised as a racecourse. ………….. Two seasons ago “Go home kid, this is no place for whinny little Mama's boys” the racing referee spat at the frail-looking rider beside him. The rider had soft features, with tiny arms like twigs_ resembling a Willow tree standing in a storm. But his eyes were different _ those honeyed eyes were filled with an undeterred will. “Hey, Romano who is this lad” The voice was filled with a hint of cockiness and laced pride. The voice belonged to no other than Venom_ the undefeated star of the track.

Balanced I guess. The announcer’s voice cut through the roars with a mic. “Two laps, winner takes the stack! The hottest players of the Velocity Kings, and the Phantom Blades are playing. Zayne versus Jeremy—oh, you all better pray.” “Go, Z!” Stacy shouted. I could hear other noises too, rooting for Jeremy and Zayne. I felt too conscious and it wasn’t even me on the motorcycle. The roar that followed shook my ribcage. People surged forward, waving cash, shouting odds. Carol grabbed my wrist, and for a moment, it grounded me. My chest felt too small to hold my lungs.

Boom—! The three high-performance machines crossed the final gantry line in an absolute explosion of sound. Chloe’s Ferrari and Kingsley's custom Warship vehicle systematically suppressed the sensors at what evaluated as the exact same identical microsecond—while up ahead at the absolute vanguard of the pack, First Dawn’s bumper cleared the wire a mere 0.2 seconds faster to retain her crown.

I had to find something I could do to make money that I could be discrete enough to accomplish without drawing the attention of the massive amount of people I managed to successfully piss off by means of killing the under-lord, Christian. That led to my current livelihood of being an assassin. I started out with nothing more than the knife that killed my mother, Christian’s belt and sheath, and my rags cut, sewed, and repurposed into a disguise to hide my hair and face. I was sloppy in the beginning, and it was a wonder I’d never been caught. As the years passed, I became the most efficient, deadly, mysterious, and untraceable assassin. I entered unseen, killed in silence, and vanished witho

Every morning they lined up at the starting line and raced against each other. Elena made the engine sounds. Ethan giggled. The fastest of them all was a car named Blaze, red as fire, with golden wheels. Then there was Silver, smooth and cool. There was Turbo, always spinning his tyres before the flag had even dropped. And then there was Pip. Pip was small. His paint was a faded yellow, chipped at the edges from one too many corners. His engine made bad sounds. He was slower than the rest, and they made sure he knew it.

Jobs were scarce when your last name was Chen and everyone in Coldwater knew your father died owing money to half the town. The straightaway opened up before me, and I twisted the throttle. The speedometer climbed at eighty, ninety, one hundred. My competitor, a rider on a Yamaha R1 who went by "Razor," was half a bike length behind. I could feel his frustration radiating through the night air. He'd been winning these underground races for six months straight until Ghost Rider appeared three months ago. He had no idea Ghost Rider was a woman. None of them did. That was the point.

Too many things pointed to a single identity, yet divided into two different persons. Though I am relieved to finally prove that Damon wasn’t my phantom, yet it didn’t make everything easier either. I am now torn between the two of them. My phantom cradled me in his lap as my panic was about to surge. My heart pumping blood so fast that it felt like my veins were about to explode. I even struggled to breathe, choking with air. But then he held me so tenderly in his arms, rocking me slowly, crooning against my ear. Somehow it eased my nerves and helped me relax. I don’t know how he made that happen. Usually, it was he who triggered my anxiety.

My eyes followed her movements like a hawk, ready to fly the moment she brought that flag down. The race track was some kind of very dangerous road with sharp bends and ugly surprises, and like any illegal race, there was no fucking way to monitor whatever the racers do once they speed out of here. There were no rules. There were no limitations. No one cared if you live or die, or blow up to bits with your race car. No one gave a fuck if you attach a rocket to your car engine, or crack your fucking skull trying to maneuver a hard bend. All they wanted was to see one racer return to the scrutiny of their gazes, and they had their winner.

He pulled it off, throwing it over his shoulder and wiping the sweat away from his eyebrows with his finger as those jade spheres glared at him. "Let's go. I know a place that would help you to think," Luca said. Hunter wanted to argue but he knew Luca was the only one to handle him right now. "Let me shower first," He said. "I'll wait for you in the car," Luca said. "Bring my Mustang baby out," Hunter said as Luca smirked while walking out. "You'll get us killed at this speed," Luca said with a poker face staring at the road. They were zooming past the other cars at such speed that if they were to crash they would die on the spot and Mustang Baby would be called nothing but trash.