The silence hung thick between Dante and Rico, a heavy tension settling in the air. Dante could hear his own heartbeat, a steady rhythm pulsing through his veins as he tried to process what Rico had just said.
"They're coming for you," Rico repeated, his tone firm but not unkind. "You've been on borrowed time ever since you started racing."
Dante narrowed his eyes. "I thought I was careful."
Rico let out a short, humorless laugh. "Careful doesn't cut it with these people, kid. You're a walking target. The moment you stepped into that underground scene, they started closing in on you."
Dante's mind raced, a thousand questions swirling in his head. Who was 'they'? How did Rico know about all of this? And more importantly—what did Rico really want from him?
"Who sent you?" Dante asked, his voice tight.
Rico shrugged, leaning against the rusted frame of an old train car. "No one. I'm just giving you a heads-up. You've got enemies, Dante. More than you realize. And if you don't get ahead of them, you'll never see them coming."
Dante clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. He'd been careful—he had to be. But if what Rico was saying was true, he'd let his guard down. And now, the people he'd been running from all these years were closer than ever.
"What do you know?" Dante pressed. "Who's coming for me?"
Rico straightened, pushing off the train car and taking a few steps closer. "The same people who made you what you are. You think they forgot about you? You're their biggest investment, kid. And they don't just let investments walk away."
Dante's stomach churned. He knew exactly who Rico was talking about—the facility, the experiments, the cold, clinical hands that had shaped him into something not quite human. He'd escaped years ago, but the nightmares had never stopped. And now, it seemed, neither had they.
"They've been watching," Rico continued. "Waiting for the right moment. And you, running those races, flashing your speed around like it's nothing—you made it easy for them."
Dante shook his head, taking a step back. "You don't know anything about what I've been through."
Rico's expression softened for a moment, but it was fleeting. "Maybe I don't. But I know this—if you don't start playing smarter, you're going to get caught. And when that happens, it's not just your life on the line. It's everyone you care about. Including your sister."
The mention of Emily hit Dante like a punch to the gut. His breath caught in his throat, and his pulse quickened. He had spent years protecting her, keeping her away from the truth. She didn't know about the facility, about what had happened to him. And he had promised himself she never would.
But Rico's words hung heavy in the air—It's everyone you care about. The weight of that truth settled in his chest like a stone.
"I'm not letting them touch her," Dante said, his voice low and dangerous.
Rico nodded. "Then you need to be smart about this. You need to make a plan."
"What plan?" Dante asked, frustration creeping into his voice. "I can't go up against them. You don't know what they're capable of."
"I don't," Rico admitted. "But I know people who do. People who've been in the same place as you. People who've escaped, just like you did."
Dante's eyes narrowed. "There are more of us?"
Rico's smile was tight. "More than you think. And they're not going to sit around waiting to be hunted down."
For a moment, hope flickered in Dante's chest. He wasn't alone. There were others—people who had been through the same nightmare, who knew what it was like to live in constant fear. Maybe, just maybe, there was a way to fight back.
"What do you want from me, Rico?" Dante asked, his voice guarded. "Why are you telling me this?"
Rico's eyes hardened. "Because I need your help, Dante. This fight—it's bigger than just you. Bigger than all of us. The people who made you? They're not done. They've got plans, and they're not going to stop until they get what they want. If we don't stop them, more people are going to end up like you. Or worse."
Dante felt the weight of Rico's words settle over him like a dark cloud. The idea of more people being subjected to the same horrors he had endured—it made his blood run cold. He couldn't let that happen. He wouldn't.
But joining Rico in this fight meant exposing himself. It meant using his abilities, putting himself on the radar of the very people he had spent years trying to escape.
"I don't know if I can do this," Dante said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.
Rico stepped forward, his expression intense. "You don't have a choice, kid. You're already in this, whether you like it or not. The only question is—are you going to fight, or are you going to let them win?"
The words echoed in Dante's mind long after Rico left the train yard.
That night, Dante lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the weight of the decision pressing down on him like a physical force. His instincts screamed at him to run, to disappear, to protect Emily by any means necessary. But a part of him—the part that had been hiding for so long—knew that running wasn't going to be enough anymore.
If Rico was right, the people who had created him weren't going to stop. They would find him, eventually. And when they did, they would come for Emily too.
He couldn't let that happen.
Dante clenched his fists, his mind racing. He couldn't fight them alone. But maybe, with Rico's help—with the help of the others like him—he stood a chance.
As sleep finally pulled him under, one thought lingered in his mind: he had to do whatever it took to keep Emily safe. Even if it meant stepping into the very world he had been running from.
The next morning, Dante woke early, his body aching with exhaustion. He hadn't slept well—not that he ever did these days. But today, there was a new weight on his shoulders, a new sense of urgency that he couldn't shake.
He dressed quickly, throwing on his usual hoodie and sneakers, and headed downstairs. Emily was already in the kitchen, eating cereal and scrolling through her phone.
"Morning," she said without looking up.
"Morning," Dante mumbled, grabbing a piece of toast from the counter. He wasn't hungry, but he needed something to keep his hands busy.
"You okay?" Emily asked, glancing up at him with a raised eyebrow. "You look... off."
Dante forced a smile. "Yeah, just tired. Didn't sleep much."
She didn't press him, and for that, he was grateful. The less she knew, the better.
As he grabbed his backpack and headed for the door, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Dante pulled it out, his heart skipping a beat when he saw the message.
Rico: Meet me at the track after school. We need to talk.
Dante's grip tightened around the phone. The decision had already been made.