Every summer, the Enduro Kildare race in the Outer Banks was the event everyone talked about, especially for the local teens. It wasn’t just about the race; it was about the thrill, the rush of adrenaline, and the chance to prove yourself.

And of course—Rafe was racing this year, just like every other year. But this time, something felt different. You couldn’t shake the worry gnawing at you, twisting your stomach into knots. You watched him gear up, his usual smirk plastered on his face as he revved the engine of his dirt bike.

It was revenge that stung his heart, burning hotter than the sun beating down on the Outer Banks. Rafe had made it clear—this wasn’t just a race for him anymore. He had told you, time and time again, that the Pogues were responsible for his father’s death, and the thought of it consumed him. That anger, that seething fury, was all he could focus on now. He didn’t just want to win—he wanted them to lose.

As the race started, the crowd erupted in cheers, but all you could do was stand there, frozen, your eyes locked on him as he tore off down the track. It felt like your heart was about to burst—out of worry, out of something you couldn’t quite name.

And just like the voices in your head had warned, everything went wrong in an instant. Right before the finish line, Rafe’s bike veered sharply into JJ’s, sending them both crashing to the ground. One moment they were neck and neck, the next, their bikes tangled in a heap, dust rising around them. Your heart sank as the crowd gasped, but you couldn’t move—frozen in the chaos of the moment.

Once the race ended and they announced Topper as the winner, you wasted no time running to Rafe, wrapping your arm around his waist. His body was tense, but he gave you a small nod.

“I’m alright,” he muttered, his voice low. But his eyes weren’t on you—they were fixed on JJ, still picking himself up from the dirt, defeated. Rafe smirked slightly, satisfaction flickering across his face. JJ had lost, just like Rafe wanted.