Chapter thirteen — The Week Before

  The week moved like a countdown Alex couldn’t slow. Every day was a rehearsal, a test, a reminder of what was coming.

  The planning sessions were clinical. Alex, Knox and Vance sat with the rest of the crew — the tech kid, the vault personnel, and logistics operatives — dissecting every route, every exit, every split-second contingency.

  But the real proving ground was the test track, every other day, pushing the Audi's to their limits.

  It was on the third day of testing that the real danger hit.

  Alex was threading the Audi through a series of tight corners at full throttle, rear tires squealing softly against the asphalt, feeling the power of the car in every controlled vibration.

  He had the groove, the line, the rhythm — the car was an extension of him. And then Knox came up fast, too close, nudging Alex’s car with the tiniest brush of metal. But it was enough to unsettle the car.

  Alex’s heart slammed. The Audi jerked toward the wall at the edge of the track, the concrete looming like a predator. Instinct took over — he slammed the brakes, stomped on the ABS, twisted the wheel with precision. The car screeched and slid sideways, hugging the tarmac just inches from the unforgiving concrete. A breathless second passed, then it stabilized, engine whining.

  He slammed the car to a stop at the pit, shaking with adrenaline. Tires hissed as smoke curled from them.

  Knox stepped out, smirk tugging at his mouth like he hadn’t just nearly destroyed $500,000+ car. “Relax, Mercer. It’s just a test.”

  Alex’s head snapped up, blood hammering. “Just a test? You could’ve killed us! You could’ve ruined everything — the car, the heist, us — before it even started!”

  Knox's smirk didn’t falter. He leaned on his massive frame, arms crossed. “Careful how you talk. You throw a punch, and you’ll regret it.”

  Alex’s fists clenched until his knuckles whitened. His chest pounded with heat and fury, every instinct screaming to strike. He imagined Knox’s massive frame, the sharp muscle under his hoodie — the sheer force it would take to move him — and realized hitting him would be suicide. But the anger didn’t dissipate; it roiled like oil on fire.

  “You think I’m kidding?” Alex spat, stepping closer, voice low and dangerous. “You nearly wiped out the car — our only chance to get familiar with it! Do you even understand what that would mean for the job?”

  Know’s expression didn’t change. He didn’t flinch. “I understand perfectly. You need to learn that fear won’t help you drive. Maybe now you get it.”

  Alex took a step back, chest heaving. Rage wrestled with reason. He wanted to punch him, to make Knox feel even a fraction of the panic he’d just endured. But the man’s sheer size, his presence like a wall of muscle, kept him from acting on impulse.

  The air fell silent, the heat of the moment hanging thick. Alex’s breathing came in sharp bursts, his hands still curled into fists. He spun on his heel, walking toward the gate, letting the tension crackle behind him.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Later, back at Chloe’s garage, the storm finally broke. Alex slammed the Evo’s door, pacing. The anger leaked out in every step. Chloe looked up from the workbench, arms crossed, unimpressed by his outburst.

  “Rough day?” she asked, voice calm but sharp.

  Alex muttered, running a hand over his face. “That guy… Asshole.. he almost wiped out the car on the track. Could’ve ruined everything. The job… all of it.”

  He slammed the Evo’s bonnet with a fist, letting frustration escape in a sharp clang! The metal groaned. He hadn’t cared what broke; the force was enough to dent the old panel.

  “I… I need to get out,” he muttered, voice tight, pacing. “I need a drive. Fast.”

  “You’re taking out your anger on the car again?”

  Alex ran a hand over his face. “Better that than someone else’s face.”

  “Then I’m coming with you,” Chloe said firmly. “Don’t be an idiot.”

  Alex shook his head, then smiled faintly, realizing she wasn’t letting him go alone.

  He swaped the evo keys for the Impreza, the sleeper car that looked harmless but had more power under the hood than most realized.

  They slid into the Subaru, the night quiet around them. Alex eased the car onto the street, then pressed the accelerator. The Impreza hummed alive, not screaming, just coiling like a predator.

  Chloe noticed immediately. “Alex…” she began, but before she could finish, he’d run two red lights. Not carelessly, but in a calculated rhythm of frustration and need for speed. She blinked, unsure if he hadn’t noticed or simply didn’t care.

  The third set of lights made her tense — lucky for them, Alex finally slowed just in time. A flash of blue and red appeared in the rearview. A Dodge Charger, its headlights sharp and intimidating, pulled up beside them. The vehicle was one of those the police used to scout street racers at night.

  The officer’s window rolled down. “Evening,” the cop said, voice neutral but measured. “You two heading somewhere this late?”

  Chloe leaned forward, calm and friendly. “Just a late-night drive, officer. Needed to clear our heads.” Her tone was light, approachable, without revealing anything suspicious.

  The officer studied them for a moment, eyes flicking between Alex’s tense posture and Chloe’s steady gaze. Then he nodded and drove off. Alex exhaled, his shoulders loosening.

  Once on the freeway, Alex finally let himself breathe. He pressed down, letting the Impreza surge forward. The sleeper car took its time at first — nothing flashy — then built steadily, smoothly, climbing past legal limits without warning. The roar was quiet but precise; speed wrapped around him like a tonic.

  Chloe held on slightly, exhilarated but careful, watching as Alex’s focus melted into the thrill. This was the only thing that calmed him besides her presence: the car, the road, and the invisible line where skill met raw velocity.

  By the time they hit higher speeds, well above the limit, the world had narrowed to two lanes, one road, and the rush of control in Alex’s hands. The Impreza moved like a shadow predator — silent, sleeper, deadly precise. And for the first time that week, Alex smiled, letting the tension slide out into the night.

  After several miles of high-speed release, Alex finally slowed and pulled off toward a small cluster of street food vans at the side of the freeway. The neon glow of lights and the smell of sizzling meat filled the air.

  They ordered burgers, leaning casually against the Impreza.

  The tension of the night finally fading. Conversation drifted to the past — nights they’d shared, quiet mornings, and the silly arguments that now felt like another lifetime.

  Chloe’s eyes flicked to the keys in Alex’s hand. Without warning, she snatched them up, holding them just out of reach. “I’m driving us home,” she said, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

  Alex raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

  Chloe grinned, spinning the keys between her fingers. “Besides… I’m the better driver anyway.”

  Alex laughed despite himself, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

  She shrugged, handing him a playful wink as she slid into the driver’s seat, the Impreza seeming to hum eagerly beneath her touch. Alex watched her go, feeling a mix of admiration and exasperation, the warmth in his chest softening the tension from the week.

  Chloe took the wheel like she always did — confident, precise, and smooth. And though he knew he shouldn’t, he couldn’t help the smile tugging at his lips.

  Inside, Chloe still felt it — that quiet, unshakable love for Alex. She had to keep her distance; he risked too much, too often. But that didn’t stop her from caring, from teasing him, from sharing these small stolen moments of life and laughter. She would always hope he came back safe, always be there to patch him up, and always, quietly, still loved him.