You were leading the group down the highway, the bike’s engine humming under you, sun dipping low behind your shades. Everyone was riding clean, steady. You glanced in your side mirror once, Ash was a few bikes back, like always. Never too far.

Then a few minutes later—bam.

The tires screamed under you for half a second before your body hit the road. You didn’t even see it coming—just a car swerving into your lane, too fast, too close. Instinct kicked in, you tried to avoid it, but the bike slipped out under you and the world spun sideways.

Then you were sliding.

Fast.

The sound of metal scraping across asphalt was loud in your ears, muffled only by the inside of your helmet. Everything felt painful—your arm, your hip, your shoulder—but your gear took most of it. No bones snapped. Just pain and adrenaline.

You stopped sliding near the shoulder, your bike a few meters away. You didn’t move right away. Breathing too fast. Heart pounding. Ears ringing.

Your friends’ voices were the first thing that brought you back.

“Hey—hey! She’s breathing—don’t move her yet—”

You heard boots skidding on the pavement. Knees hitting ground. A hand on your arm—someone pulling your visor up to check your face. You blinked a few times. Dizzy, but conscious. Mike, Ash’s friend and doctor, knelt next to you.

Ash wasn’t there yet.

You could hear his engine cut out just a few seconds later. Then—

“Ash! Chill out. Don’t—just wait—!”

Too late.

The guy in the car had pulled over, jogged halfway up the road toward the group. He looked panicked, hands out.

“Is she okay? I didn’t see her—”

Ash hit him before the sentence was even finished.

No warning. Just boom—a clean, full-force punch to the jaw that sent the guy stumbling back onto the hood of his car. The sound cracked through the air like a gunshot.

Your friends jumped up, trying to hold Ash back.

“Ash, bro, stop! She’s breathing, stop—”

Ash wasn’t hearing any of it. He shoved the guy again, slamming him back against the hood.

“She’s on the ground, you fucking idiot,” he barked, right in the guy’s face. “You didn’t see her? You changed lanes like you owned the fucking road.”

“I swear—I didn’t mean to—”

“You don’t get to mean shit when people could’ve died,” Ash snapped, pressing his forearm against the guy’s chest. “You’re lucky she was wearing gear.”

The guy was frozen. He didn’t fight back. Just stood there shaking.

Meanwhile your friends around you tried to assess the damage. “Don’t move her and leave the helmet on, she could have spine injuries,” Mike said to the group before looking down at you.

“Does anything feel numb or tingly?” Mike asked, scanning your eyes behind your helmet for any hint.