Dante couldn't shake the feeling of unease as he walked beside Emily. The message on his phone seemed to burn a hole in his pocket, and every step felt heavier. Whoever sent it knew more than they should. Was it a warning? A threat? He wasn't sure, but it left a bad taste in his mouth.
The walk home was mostly quiet, aside from Emily chattering about her day at school. She didn't seem to notice his tension. Dante kept glancing over his shoulder, eyes darting to every car that passed, every pedestrian on the sidewalk. Paranoia had been his constant companion ever since they'd escaped the facility, but today it was louder than ever.
When they reached the front door of their small, run-down house, Emily unlocked it and stepped inside, her backpack dropping to the floor with a soft thud.
"I'm starving," she said, heading straight for the kitchen. "You want anything?"
Dante shook his head, barely hearing her. His mind was still racing, trying to piece together what the message could mean. Was Knox still after him? It had been years since their escape. Maybe he was just being paranoid. Maybe it was a prank.
He hoped it was a prank.
"I'm fine," he muttered, shutting the door behind him and bolting the lock. "I'll just head upstairs."
Emily glanced at him with a frown. "You okay?"
Dante forced a smile, the same one he always used to keep her from worrying. "Yeah, just tired. Long day."
She didn't look convinced, but she didn't push it either. That was one of the things Dante loved about his sister—she knew when to back off, when to let him deal with things on his own.
"I'll be down in a bit," Dante added, trying to sound casual as he headed upstairs to his room.
Upstairs, the small room felt like a prison. The peeling wallpaper, the chipped furniture, everything about it screamed temporary, as if they might need to pack up and run again at a moment's notice. Dante had never allowed himself to get comfortable here. This house wasn't a home. It was just a hiding place.
He pulled out his phone, his fingers hovering over the screen as he reread the message. We know who you are, Dante. You can't run forever. His stomach churned.
Whoever had sent this knew something about his past. That much was clear. But how? He hadn't used his powers in public. He hadn't done anything to attract attention.
Except… the races.
Dante's heart skipped a beat. Could it be someone from the underground? He'd been careful, sure, but the races were full of shady characters. It wouldn't be hard for someone to connect the dots, especially if they were already looking for him.
Before he could dwell on it further, his phone buzzed again. Another message.
Unknown: Meet me tomorrow night at the old train yard. You know what's at stake.
Dante's blood ran cold. This wasn't just someone messing with him. They knew. They knew about Emily. About everything.
He clenched his fist around the phone, trying to keep his breathing steady. He had no choice. Whoever this was, they had him cornered.
The next day at school passed in a blur. Dante couldn't focus on anything. His mind kept drifting back to the message, to the train yard, to what awaited him there. He didn't tell Emily. She would only worry, and he needed to handle this on his own. She was safe for now, and that was all that mattered.
By the time the final bell rang, Dante's nerves were shot. His muscles ached with the need to move, to run. But he couldn't. Not yet.
He avoided Casey and the others as he slipped out of the school building, heading for the track again. His sanctuary.
Dante's feet hit the pavement hard, faster than the day before. He let his body take over, the rhythmic pounding of his shoes against the ground drowning out the noise in his head. Every muscle screamed to push faster, to go beyond the limits of human speed. His legs blurred beneath him, the world becoming a whirlwind of colors and shapes.
But he couldn't lose control. Not here.
As the minutes passed, his breathing became ragged, and he finally slowed, coming to a stop at the edge of the track. Sweat dripped down his face, and his heart hammered in his chest, but he felt clearer. More focused.
He had to figure this out. If Knox or his people were involved, it meant they were getting closer. The thought made his skin crawl.
Dante grabbed his bag and left the track, his mind already on the night ahead. He needed to prepare for whatever was waiting for him at the train yard. And whatever it was, he couldn't afford to lose.
The old train yard was on the outskirts of town, a forgotten place that most people stayed away from. Abandoned tracks and rusted cars stretched out under the dim light of the fading sun, casting long shadows across the ground. It was the perfect place for a confrontation—no witnesses, no interruptions.
Dante arrived just as the last sliver of daylight slipped beneath the horizon. His heart raced, not from running, but from the tension coiling in his chest. He scanned the area, every sense on high alert.
There was no one there. Yet.
He wasn't sure what to expect, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he was walking into a trap. His mind flashed back to the facility, to the experiments, to the sterile white walls where he had once been a prisoner. He had escaped once, but now it felt like those walls were closing in on him again.
The silence of the train yard was deafening. Every creak of metal, every rustle of the wind sent his nerves on edge. He couldn't afford to be careless.
Suddenly, a figure stepped out from behind one of the rusted train cars. Dante's body tensed, ready for a fight, but he froze when he recognized the person walking toward him.
It was Rico "Ghost" Mendoza.
Dante's mind raced. Rico had been the one who brought him into the underground races, the one who had pushed him to use his speed for something more. But what was he doing here?
"You got the message, didn't you?" Rico's voice was calm, almost casual, as if this was just another race.
Dante narrowed his eyes. "You sent that? What's this about, Rico?"
Rico took a few steps closer, his hands shoved in his pockets. "I had to get your attention somehow. Figured this would do the trick."
Dante's fists clenched at his sides. "If this is some kind of joke—"
"It's not a joke, kid," Rico interrupted, his tone hardening. "This is serious. They're coming for you, and if you don't get ahead of it, you're done."