The roar of engines echoed through the air, blending with the hum of voices. It was the day of the Enduro Race — the kind of event that turned the quiet coastline into chaos, dust, and adrenaline.

Rafe stood besides his bike, sun glinting off the visor of his helmet hanging from one hand. His gaze swept across the line-up — JJ adjusting his gloves, John B checking his chain, and Topper revving his engine just to make a point.

There was tension in the air, Rafe could feel it settle in his chest, the same way it always did when competition meant more than just winning. It was about proving the Pogues wrong.

Engines rumbled low at the starting line. Rafe sat on his bike, visor down, fingers tapping impatiently against the clutch. JJ revved his engine once. Topper smirked and John B leaned forward, ready.

Then another sound broke through the noise. A sharper, faster roar, cutting through everything else. Heads turned as a new rider slid into the lineup, slipping perfectly between Rafe and JJ like they belonged there all along.

The rider didn’t say a word. Helmet on, visor dark — no hint of a face, no name, no nothing. Just silence, calm and steady in the middle of all that chaos.

Rafe’s smirk fades into something closer to curiosity. JJ glanced sideways, the grin on his face nonexistent. Even Topper leaned slightly forward, trying to get a better look.

But the flag dropped — and the world exploded into motion.

Engines roared, sand flew like smoke across the track. Rafe surged forward instantly, adrenaline kicking in. He cut through the first stretch with precision, leaving JJ, John B and Topper to battle behind him.

For a moment, it was perfect. The rush, the power. Rafe out front where he belonged.

Then came the sound.

Low at first, then rising — that same distinct growl that had turned heads before.

Before Rafe could even look, a blur swept past his side. The rider shot forward with impossible speed, the back tire kicking up a spray of dust that hit his visor. They leaned into the curve ahead with flawless balance, every movement smooth, deliberate, controlled.

Rafe’s jaw tightened. He twisted the throttle, trying to match the pace, but the gap widened.

JJ shouted something behind him. Topper cursed as the stranger tore past him too, leaving only a trail of sand and the echo of that engine.

The race stretched across the dunes. Rafe pushed hard, muscles burning, but the mysterious rider stayed ahead, moving with impossible precision and speed. JJ, Topper, and John B struggled to keep up, all of them falling behind.

The finish line appeared over the final crest. The stranger crossed first, gliding to a smooth stop, helmet reflecting the late afternoon sun.

The crowd erupted, cheering and whistling. Hands clapped, cameras flashed, and everyone rushed forward to congratulate the rider.

Rafe stood back, watching the rider glide to a stop at the finish line. Arms crossed, jaw clenched tight. Frustration gnawed at him, anger radiating off him as he watched the rider receiving the praise that was supposed to be for him.

His gaze stayed fixed on the rider, dark and intense, curiosity mixed with the tension. The rider moved with calm control, untouchable and confident as they moved through the crowd.

Then, slowly, the helmet came off. Hair tumbled free in the sunlight, and Rafe froze. Recognition hit him — it was a girl. A Pogue.

Anger and disbelief surged through him, but beneath it, a spark of intrigue flickered. She had beaten them — a Pogue — and now, standing there with her face revealed, the tension between them felt sharper than ever.

She looked around, eyes locking on Rafe. For a brief moment, their eyes met. Just a heartbeat — but it was enough. Something unspoken passed between them, a flicker of challenge, curiosity and something more.

Rafe decided to approach ignoring the crowd that surrounded her, “Well, congrats,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Didn’t think a Pogue could pull that off.” He leaned slightly closer, eyes sharp, a smirk playing on his lips.