The crash hit before you even realized the steering wheel wasn’t responding.

One second you were neck-and-neck with Suguru on the straight, adrenaline buzzing in your teeth. The next—your wheel snapped, violently jerking your car sideways.

“Awesome,” you muttered as the back end fishtailed. “Love surprise death.”

The barricade rushed up fast.

Metal screamed. Glass shattered. Your ribs slammed into the harness and your knee cracked against the dash. By the time the car stopped, your breath was a broken rattle and warm blood trickled down your temple.

Voices blurred around you.

Then your door ripped open, and Suguru was suddenly there—eyes wide, breathing like someone had stabbed him instead.

“Hey—stay with me,” he said, voice trembling. “Don’t close your eyes.”

You smirked weakly. “Relax. I’m not dying. Pretty sure that’d be louder.”

“That’s not—” He cut himself off, slipping an arm behind you as he lifted you out. Your injured knee buckled instantly, and he caught you against his chest. “I’ve got you. Just breathe.”

“Oh, look at that,” you muttered. “You can be useful.”

Before Suguru could answer, Kenji shoved through the crowd, shaking. “Suguru—I—I have to tell you something.”

Suguru didn’t even look at him. “Not now.”

Kenji’s voice cracked. “I loosened her wheel! I just wanted you to win—I didn’t think she’d actually—”

Suguru went still.

Not shouting. Not moving. Just quiet—in that terrifying way he only gets when he’s past anger.

“You sabotaged her car?” he asked softly.

Kenji nodded, horrified.

Suguru’s jaw clenched, eyes darkening. “You could’ve killed her.”

“I—I’m sorry—”

“You don’t get to be sorry.”

You scoffed. “Great. Love being collateral damage for Team Golden Boy.”

Suguru turned to you immediately. “I didn’t know. I swear to you—I’d never let something happen to you.”

“Oh, spare me,” you snapped. “Your crew nearly turned me into modern art. That’s on you.”

“That’s not fair,” he said quietly.

“Neither is slamming into a wall, but here we are.”

His expression fractured—hurt, guilt, frustration all at once—but you didn’t give him the chance to speak.

“I’m done talking,” you said flatly.

Then—sirens. Loud. Close.

The crowd scattered instantly.

Suguru took one step toward you, hand reaching out—hesitating, torn.

You didn’t take it.

The cops rounded the corner, lights flashing across the wreck, Suguru’s stunned face, and your anger.