True Ribs, Floating Ribs

(EDITED)(Note to readers: Some chapters ahead may not be in line with the new edits.)

"The surge of attacks on big businesses, especially those affiliated with the Drachmann pack, have been slowly pulling out of deals with conglomerates and companies, in fear this is another attempt at other species' uprising against 'lycan oligarchy'..."

"Whoever is attacking these businesses have some serious witness control, I mean, there's no fingerprint record, no blood record, no hair record, no CCTV, no eye witnesses, it's very scary. Everything is completely off the charts. Most people think they're buying off police, but that's just scarier..."

"...out of control, I think whatever this is, it's making Drachmanns panic, and they should, they've held all this power over us for too long, and I don't like it, I think they need to take a step aside and quit cutting out everyone's legs just to make themselves feel taller..."

"People are placing suspicions on the ethics of these companies after a statement was made by an ex-employee who claimed there were 'darker foundations' to their business, especially big names like Janchi and RIYU. A conspiracy has begun regarding the two..."

"...times are changing, it's just how it is, there's a shift that's gonna happen, I don't know what shift, but there will be one. Everyone thinks everyone is going crazy, but I think it's for a reason..."

'A Wolf in Corporate Clothing—Olympic Silver Winner, Elias Yun, Makes Statement On RIYU's Involvement With Recent Attacks'

'RIYU's CEO, Byungho Yun, Fails To Appear At Another Opening Event; Rumors of Illness Spread'

'The Fallen King—Everything You Need To Know About Drachmanns' Crumbling Plutocracy'

'The S-Class: Tensions Between Lycan Packs and Their Ranking Rises Amidst NCAA and Economic Controversy—Is The Ranking of Classes Honest or Outdated?"

'Why Lycan Ranking Needs To Change NOW'

'Three Stirling Dead At NYC 'Class Abolition' Protest—Pack Outrage Soars'

'Terri Howards's Take on The Class System—A Socioeconomic Breakdown'

'Damning Or Daring? High Schoolers Stage Protests At Schools' Admin Offices To Relinquish Lycan Classes On Their Transcripts'

____________________

If you thought all that death and blood and threatening and family trauma was enough to quell the indelible flaws of a growing young adult male's brain enough to thread some rationale in there, you'd be wrong.

"What's that on your neck?" Wynter said.

The drive back from the theater was worse than you can imagine. "I fell."

"You all need walkers or something?" Rosalie said. "What the hell did you fall on in the hour we left you two alone?"

"It's a dangerous plaza," I said, yanking my collar up.

Kenzo looked at me through the mirror. I scowled back. He hummed.

Meredith stared. She said, "That...it is."

I looked at no one for the rest of the ride.

Being tracked wasn't helpful either.

"Jesus Christ Almighty," I gasped, after having crashed into a water fountain upon finding Kane waiting outside the door of my physics class. "What the fuck?"

Nia raised a brow. "Has he become your personal bodyguard?"

"No," I snapped as Kane said, "Sure."

"I don't need a bodyguard," I said.

Kane pointed at his eye to remind me of my own, which was still trying to heal from Mercy's unforgiving strike. I said, "You damn me."

"Come on," he said. "We've got history."

"Why's that a semester-long class again?" I muttered.

Nia turned a suspicious look on me. "Thought you said your weekend wasn't eventful after the Corvidae vandalism."

"It wasn't."

"What's on your neck? Did you fall on someone?"

Kane's shoulders were shaking ahead. It took me moment to realize he was laughing. I had to breathe.

"I'll fall on you," I snapped at her. "And stop texting me, how'd you get my number anyway?"

"Good to know people in high places," Nia said, and smiled at Kane.

Practice went as it always had, and I knew better than to remain bitter over my benching forever—at least obviously so. I had some distractions to help pass time.

Kane pushed my back against the lockers, his teeth knocking against mine. I pushed my fingers into his hair. The cuts on our lips would never heal at this rate if they kept getting nearly split right back open with all the kissing.

"Corvus is waiting," I muttered.

"You can tell me to stop," he said against my throat.

"Whatever happened to priorities?"

"Like yours on the track? With disobeying your coach?" His hands pushed against the thin fabric of my undershirt.

"Touché," I muttered, and shoved his shoulders until his back was against the other side of the lockers.

Among others.

"Don't tell me that's your history homework," Kane said as he walked towards the kitchen. Two AM beeped silently on the clock.

I shrugged from my place on the counter. "No one gives a shit about the Victorian era but Dickinson fans and Bridgerton whores."

"Language." Kane grabbed two cups for water. When he leaned down and rested his elbows on the counter, his gray shirt fell off his shoulders, and revealed a mile of a skin for the whole world to see. "And you're supposed to type that," he said.

I dropped my gaze. "No computer, and the lab is too far," I lied.

"You're a college student with no computer." I shrugged. Kane shook his head. "Unbelievable."

"I'm a fast writer," I replied.

"I have an old computer from my freshman year," he said. "You can have it. I've been looking to give it away."

"Don't need it."

"Your professors will thank me."

"I won't, so keep it. Stop giving me stuff."

"I'll leave it in your room."

"Does anything I say to you register in your head?"

"Yes," he said. "I just don't care."

"Michin sunbae."

"What'd you say?"

"Michin sunbae, now fight me." I raised my pen in challenge. Kane rolled his eyes.

"Quit calling me that," he said, disappearing back into his room, but I swore I could see a smile on his face.

Coach hadn't given into my puppy eyes during practice, only shaking her head when I asked about the upcoming matches. "Tough love, kid. It's just tough love," she'd said.

"This is feeling more like tough cruelty. Very tough cruelty."

"Consider it an opportunity to see your seniors in action. You can learn a lot from them."

"That feels backhanded."

"That's subjective. Now go away and let me focus."

Word had gotten around about both the Corvidae's vandalism and Harrison's outburst in the Talon, leaving me subject to all of Avaldi's curious eyes as if it were open season. Several strangers had been brash enough to approach me with questions, and others were angry enough to do so with threats. More than enough hadn't let up about the bruises.

It had gotten so inhibiting that I eventually gave in and resorted to Kane. I cornered him in the bathroom one morning, where I hoped he was too sleep-deprived to ask.

"You know to cover this?" I asked, gesturing at my face.

Kane paused, then said, "Get on the counter."

He withdrew the same jars and bottles and brushes from his drawers.  I said, "How do you do a schoolwide announcement of asking people to mind their own fucking business?"

Kane raised a brow. "My classes are near yours on Mondays and Wednesdays, and Kenzo is near you on Tuesdays and Fridays," he said. "We'll walk with you."

"That's not what I asked."

"Your schoolwide announcement idea will likely go over worse."

"It's all right, Kane."

"We'll walk with you," he said. "Now stay still."

When I glanced in the mirror after he finished, I muttered, "I don't like how good you are at this."

Kane returned the bottles and brushes to their rightful place and said, "Me neither."

I had no words for that, so I hung my head, and counted my weeks down.

Kane sat beside me at dinner, because he always sat beside me during dinner, because God was a man of punishment. I said so, too.

"God is punishing me," I said.

Kane handed me a plate of fries. "Want some?"

He set the plate between us. I let my hand rest on my leg. He let his hand rest on his leg. Corvus struck up conversation, discussing anything from shitty professors to the next Yellow Diamond match tomorrow. We were to drive all the way up to Santa Barbara, a three hour ride through the horrific reminders that California was indeed, still a desert, and would be for the majority of its central body. Oh. The lycanism of it all.

Kane's hand brushed mine. He inched his fingers under mine. I choked on a fry.

"Yeesh, kid, you okay?" Zahir said.

"You...asshole," I gasped, scrambling for my water.

He moved my water. I gawked.

"We're versing the Gauchos tomorrow," Kane said.

Zahir leaned back in the booth. "I hear 'night off'. For once."

"Don't be rude," Meredith chastised.

Diego waved that off and shook his head. "Come on, they're barely competition. I'm surprised they made it to D1," he admitted. He gave me a sympathetic look. "We'll miss you, cobayo. At least you get to watch us crush the vaqueros."

"They're Gauchos," Zahir said.

"They'll be losers when we're done."

"How kind," Meredith sighed.

Rosalie glanced at Kane. "Avez-vous vérifié les nouvelles?" she said.

Kane and I both stiffened. He shot a look at me, then to Rosalie. He cleared his throat. "No. Why?"

"Things are doing badly with the Drachmanns," she replied. "Your family hasn't called you?"

He scoffed. "Have they ever?"

"Not even Sunhee?"

"She's got her own stuff, and there's never not something going on with Drachmanns."

The Drachmanns being back in the news meant two things to me only: shut my mouth, and re-dye my roots. I hurried to cut the conversation off before it could get into Janchi or RIYU.

"Who's Sunhee?" I asked Kane.

His fork paused above his chicken salad. "Cousin," he said.

Kane's less-than-linear connection to his family, needless to say, left far too many gaps for questioning as to just what his relationship was with the Wangs—why he was a golden but without the name, and why he had no legal or even implicit ties to them other than their single  claim in his freshman year. For as long as I'd been in Corvus, he'd mentioned them so scarcely, I often forgot they were part of his life at all.

"Is she here?" I asked.

He shook his head. "No."

"You don't talk much about your family."

Kane paused. "I guess not."

I took that as and I don't plan to. I said, "Want a fry?"

Kane eased at that. He snagged one to pop into his mouth, just as his phone buzzed in his pocket. He wrangled it out, then pushed it towards me. "Read that."

I frowned. I read off the message and reported, "Edwards wants a team meeting at the Corvidae."

"I thought we didn't leave for another hour," Rosalie said.

"I still have to pack," Kane muttered and gestured for them to move so he could get out, leaving his salad uneaten. "Come on. It must be important if she's willing to call us in at this hour."

Corvus exchanged glances and made their way out of the booth. I tipped my head back and sighed.

"Until we meet again," I told the fries, and tossed the last of them in the waste bin.

We met Coach at the Corvidae, our bags at our sides, the streetlights burning up the ground beneath our feet.

"What gives, Coach?" Diego said. "I was mid-chow on my lasagna!"

"Never say 'mid-chow' again," Wynter sneered.

"Defend me," Diego ordered Zahir.

Zahir glanced at Coach with a frown. "What's wrong?"

Coach pursed her lips. She pushed her hat back and folded her hands. My gut twisted. "I got the dates wrong," she said. "We face the Gauchos next week."

"Then who's this week?" he asked.

Her pause was long and heavy. "Pepperdine. The Waves."

The response was immediate.

"Oh, hell no," Rosalie said, "Hell. No."

"You're kidding," Zahir breathed.

"We are not versing the Waves, we've never even faced them in normal matches, let alone the Diamond Prix. Who the hell authorized that?" Rosalie snarled.

"No way," Meredith murmured. "No thank you."

"You're kidding," Zahir said. "You're really kidding, Coach."

"What the hell is happening?" Wynter snapped. "What's wrong with the Waves?"

"Everything," Corvus snapped.

"Like what?" Zoe said.

Coach held up her hands. "Enough, all of you. I'm sorry I didn't check it properly and I'm only giving you the warning now. But—"

"But nothing." Rosalie shook her head. "We're not going."

"But," Coach continued, eyeing her, "I'm not going to make the call. I'm leaving this up to your captain." She looked to Kane, who had gone deathly still.

The response didn't get better.

"What?" they yelled.

Rosalie shook her head. "You can't leave it up to him!"

"I have to say, that's a terrible idea," Zahir said. "This should be a majority vote thing. I vote no."

"I vote no times two," Diego added. "You can't let him decide, that's setting us all up for failure. He'll never say no to a match."

Hands shot up around the circle, but I, Zoe, Wynter, Kane, and Kenzo remained still. Meredith gaped at Kenzo.

"Kenzo," she breathed. "You can't be serious."

Kenzo shrugged. "Not my choice."

Rosalie clapped her hands together. "You cannot let us race this match, Coach. Not him, at least."

I shook my head. "Wait, why?"

"Adults are speaking." She held up a hand at me. "We're not racing this."

Kenzo cocked a brow. "Why don't you trust him?"

"I don't trust him," Rosalie said, like her 'him' pertained to someone else.

Kane clenched his jaw tight, the muscles tensing. Coach shook her head, and the face she turned on him was almost pained. "I'm sorry," she said earnestly. "It's my fault for springing it on you now."

Rosalie sent him a look he didn't acknowledge. Kane remained very still, his black eyes opaque against the night, against Corvus's watchful gaze. He looked pale, overcast with something darker than the streetlight could handle.

"Let's go," he said.

Diego tossed his hands up. "Oy vey."

"You don't have to," Meredith urged. "No one's going to blame you for backing out."

"Pepperdine is not a difficult opponent," he replied. "Corvus has never forfeited a game before. And this is Yellow Diamond. There's no justification for us backing out."

"I can think of plenty right now," Rosalie muttered.

Coach said, "Then, we're going. We leave tomorrow morning."

Zahir sighed. "This can't end well."

"The best way this can end is if you all win," Coach said. "So go home, get some rest, we leave in the morning."

Rosalie grasped her arm. "Coach, I'm serious—"

"So am I." Kane gave her a sharp look, and she let go of Edwards. "It's more important we race right now than anything. If we forfeit a match, in the middle of the Diamond Prix, the press will rip us to pieces," he said. "We're going. Head back, we'll get some rest."

Coach gave him a nod. Kane turned to leave, Corvus following after, but not before Rosalie whispered something to Edwards that had her shaking her head with nothing but a heavy sigh in response to.

"Is anyone gonna give us context?" Wynter asked, hurrying to catch up to Kane. "What's wrong with the Waves?"

We headed inside the Talon, through the wing and up to our rooms. Kane swiped his key into the unit. His face was hard and cold as bone.

Meredith tugged his arm. "Please, King," she tried. "The banquet was enough. The track will kill you."

Rosalie gritted her teeth. "Kane."

"Stop," he said. He closed his eyes. "I know what I'm doing."

"You've said that before."

"We don't have a choice," he said. "I know what I'm doing."

He pushed open the door. Zahir, Kenzo, and Diego followed after, leaving the rest of us at the threshold. Rosalie shook her head, and stomped away to the girls' unit, taking them with her. Zoe gestured at her phone to me, then, shut the door in their wake, leaving me alone at the crossroad.

I shook my head. "What the hell just happened?" I murmured.

Zahir headed for the kitchen. He opened the fridge to grab a Tupperware of leftovers. Diego was propped against the counter beside Kenzo, and Kane had already retreated to his own room by the time I was shutting the front door behind me. The air was static with an untouchable discomfort, a secret in its translucent bones.

I approached the counter. "Who's him?" I asked. They blinked dumbly. "Who was Rosalie talking about?"

Diego glanced at Zahir. "You tell him," he muttered. "You're calmer about it."

Zahir tossed the leftovers into the microwave and withdrew four forks to distribute between us. I didn't have more of an appetite than I did questions, though. When he noticed I was still staring at him, he acquiesced.

"We've got some bad blood with the Waves," he explained.

Ramos's confession came back in creeping shadows. I said, "Why?"

King came here with some bad roots. He had this friend group that wasn't so great for him, you know? I guess they introduced him to some guy, and the two went out for a while."

I stiffened. Someone close to him; if Ramos knew about it, it must have been something worth noting. "So, an ex," I said. "That's the drama?"

"Bad ex," Zahir corrected. "And the drama isn't that they dated, it's that the guy was a fucking psychopath. The shit he did to King..." He shook his head. "Even we don't know all of it."

Kane was such a paranoid and dogmatic personality it was difficult for me to imagine anyone screwing him over without his conscious consent. But between this and Ramos's confession, I had half a mind to wonder whether Kane had grown into that personality, or chosen it.

"How?" I asked.

Diego couldn't keep quiet any longer. He stabbed his forkful of eggplant at me. "By being a manipulative cabrón who fucked him over to Hell and back, that's what." Diego made a more intentional stabbing motion with his fork. "And the bastard walks around carefree for it! We ought to bring a knife on that damn track."

Zahir elbowed him. I considered my words.

"Did he make Kane fight?" I asked.

They all stared at me, startled. Diego said, "Who told you that?"

"Heard some things," I replied. "Just what the hell happened to Kane in freshman year?"

Diego was about to answer, but Kenzo shook his head at him. Zahir turned an apologetic look on me.

"Nothing good," he admitted. "I couldn't tell you—even we don't know much about it. You could try to talk to him."

Kenzo glanced to me. "Talk to him," he vouched in stern Japanese.

I frowned. "Would he even tell me?" I replied.

Kenzo gave me a look like I was being stupid on purpose. He tossed his fork in the sink. "Bed," he announced, and headed for his room.

Diego narrowed his eyes between us and I returned to the stir fry. He leaned in for me. "Listen, cobayo," he said carefully. "I don't know much about King's history, or yours, for that matter—" He sent me a look I readily ignored. "—but he seems to listen to you. Whatever happened between him and that guy, it wasn't just a bad ex."

"If he won't even tell you, what makes you think he'll be honest with me?" I said.

Diego raised a brow. "Trackee, I guess," he said after a beat.

He retreated to his room, Zahir going with him.

I pursed my lips. I headed around for the bottom drawer above the cabinet and yanked it open. I sifted through its contents before procuring a lighter and a brand new pack of unopened Lucky Strikes.

I headed for my room.

I knocked on Kane's glass door with the lighter. The balcony was cool with warm night, the concrete instilled with sunlight. His blackout curtains gave me no sense of the room's insides, so I kept knocking to the beat of the city sounds and moonlit wind.

Eventually, the curtains slid away and the glass door yanked itself open. Kane faced me with a slightly murderous look.

"What?" he snapped.

I raised the cigarettes in silent answer. Kane looked between it and me for several seconds. I sighed. "It's cold out here, man."

Kane rolled his eyes, but pushed his curtain aside to slip out. He wore an Avaldi University shirt a size too big, the wind fluttering through the thin cotton of his blue shorts. Inky cracks split his skin on his exposed shoulder.

I leaned against the railing and plucked out a cigarette. I tossed him the box. He snagged it and its respective lighter. Avaldi bounced about itself below us, the city blooming with fractalized parties of giggle juice teens, street-savvy girl gangs, lonely conmen, pro-broker isolationists, pricy clubbers, scrappy dancers of the midnight kitchen stages, off-key pop stars of the morning shower stadiums, and collegian nobodies with uncut aspirations and unborn dreams. The true ribs of the thoracic cavity of uptown LA.

Kane came to settle beside me. The smoke curled around his face, caressing his cheekbones before fleeing into the air. He was a haunting blue, watercolor moonlight and charcoal shadows. Against myself, in vain, I didn't want to look away.

Finally, he said, "What do you want?"

"Oh, good," I murmured, prying my gaze back onto the city. "It helps when you talk."

"What?"

"I got a question."

He took a beat. "Okay."

I had a few options of what to ask him, half of which were immediate danger zones and others that might be safer but not by much. I didn't entirely know the gritty details of what was going on between us, and frankly, I didn't I want to. But I had a feeling there was something Corvus was holding behind their backs, and even if I couldn't know what, I at least wanted to know why.

"Why do you own all that makeup?" I asked.

Kane plucked the cigarette from his lips to let it hang between his silver fingers. "Why does it matter?"

"Fighting record, tracked in freshman year," I said. His head snapped to me. "Is it for that?"

"How did you—"

"The press isn't shy about getting into dirty details, I guess," I lied. "Is this a reformation arc?"

Kane's gaze darkened. "I thought you had one question."

"You can choose."

"I don't appreciate snooping."

"Sorry."

"Are you? How'd you know I was tracked?"

"Why were you tracked?" When he remained stubbornly silent, I sighed. "You don't have to answer."

Kane massaged his temples. "I had an attitude issue," he said. "Coach said that, at least. I got into a lot of fights." He turned his head away from me. "I was another person, then, I guess."

I supposed no animal fought better than a cornered one. "You're different now?" I said.

"Have to be," he replied. "There were a lot of things I did that I thought would make me someone."

"This guy, on the Waves," I said, and he stiffened. "What'd he do that has Corvus willing to withdraw from a match just to avoid him?"

Kane paused. "We go back," he said. "Corvus only knows so much."

"Do they know about the silver?"

Kane stopped with his cigarette halfway to his mouth. The black threads glowed, pulsed under moonlight. If I focused, this close to Kane, I could smell the metal from his skin through clouds of soap.

"They think it's over," he admitted.

I stared. "They don't know it's not scarring?"

"No. And it should stay that way," he said, giving me a pointed look. "Corvus has gone through enough because of me. This isn't something to talk about with them, not now."

"Then, when? You're gonna keep it from them?" I said, incredulous. "You can't seriously be considering hiding it forever."

"Corvus has lost a captain and recovered before," he replied, like an uppercut to my jaw, shattering my mandible. "My family would kill me if they ever knew."

"You could recover," I tried. "There's always the 607."

"I'd have to take a season off, at least," he scoffed, like the very idea was ridiculous.

"You're not short on money."

"It's not the money. My family wouldn't let me, there's too much risk. It's a twelve percent chance."

"You have to," I breathed. "You'll die."

Kane tapped the ashes out of the cigarette until the fell off the edge of the railing. His brows were knit, thoughts and histories gathered between them. I had everything on the line for racing, but that was because I had to. All my life, racing was my only chance at seeing another day. Racing wasn't a choice, but a chance; I had nothing else.

When Kane spoke again, it was in soft Korean, ironically casual for something so grim. "I made a lot of bad decisions, because of others, because of who I was. It cost a lot of good things I can't get back," he said. "I don't want to risk Corvus. I owe them to do what I can to make sure they'll come out all right."

"Racing isn't worth your life," I said.

"Racing is my life," he replied. "I don't have anything else."

He dropped the dead cigarette onto the balcony, letting it shrivel to nothing on the concrete. I dropped mine next to it.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I can't answer everything now."

I shook my head. "Trust me," I replied, "I'm the last person you should be sorry to."

The blue evening swallowed us in rushing waves, coming for our throats without a skyline in sight.

_________________________

The second match of Yellow Diamond was altogether silent, up until the actual match.

We stood in the locker rooms, a garishly orange and royal blue thing, that was a different arrangement than Avaldi's as it wasn't in rows, but simply one big square, everyone facing each other with nothing to hide behind but our own delusion and security.

"Hey, hey," Diego had said, holding up his hands. "I won't look if you all don't."

"Just change," Zahir said.

I had no reason to change out, so I was sentenced to helping everyone tighten straps or buckles. I wasn't irritated, though; I figured I was better sitting this match out.

"Come here," Kane snapped at me from where he sat. Everyone had already gone out to meet the girls and head for the stadium. He held out his arm, his guard half-done. "Help me with this."

"An arm-guard? Really?" I snorted. "If you wanted company, you could've asked." Although I doubted it, considering he'd been dead silent the entire ride to Pepperdine.

Kane looked unimpressed. I shrugged, binding the strap over his forearm. I cleared my throat. "You should watch your left arm. I know you figure your turning will help, but still. You already know that, I'm guessing. I don't know, heads up." I sighed. "Just fuck them up or something."

Kane blinked up at me. "Was that your attempt at a pep talk?"

I grinned. "How'd I do?"

I didn't think it'd relieve me as much as it did to see him give me a thin smile back. "Terribly." He got to his feet. He pulled on his jacket, dipped in Alpha-true purple and Corvus-true black, splattered from collar to hem with sponsors counting on every win. "But, thank you." His voice was soft, despite everything.

I waved him off and handed him his helmet. "Come on. Let's get this over with."

He hummed in agreement, and we went.

Pepperdine's stadium was one of the smallest we'd ever raced, barely breaching two miles the whole way around. It could only hold about two thousand spectators, and boasted two canopies which were stationed opposite of each other, the pit crews seated in shallow dugouts. The screen was half the size of the one in the Corvidae, and orange and blue polluted the stands, ran like blood through the seats. For the first time in the entire season, we were without an announcer, left to the teeth of the reporters' deciphering.

"All right, everyone ready?" Coach said. "Remember, this is just another match, another stepping stone to Red. Focus on the track and the bikes, that's it. Whatever emotions you've got about this, use it to win. That's all I want on your minds today: winning. Got it?"

They nodded. "Got it."

She turned to Kane. "That being said," she began, quieter, "if you feel like you need to step off that track at any point, tell me. You've got a sub for a reason." She jutted her thumb at me. "Don't hold back just because you're scared to say something. I don't need anyone freaking out over there. Okay?"

Kane said, "Okay."

"Okay. Let's go, get out there, you got three minutes to start!"

They rushed down the stairs.

I settled beside Coach, leaning over the railing to watch the track below. I spotted Ramos by the pit crew, her face pinched, but not at Corvus. Rather, at the bikes pulling up between them.

"Run this down for me?" I asked Edwards.

She narrowed her blue gaze. "It's an even match, we've got eight, they've got eight, one sub on our side and one on theirs. Defense is strong. Kim and Windsor, starboard tails, best on the team. Patel and Higgins, centerback and front port, worst on the team. Beowulf, front starboard, he's the best turner they got. Second centerback, Train, fast but has sloppy turns. O'Brian, center tail, has a shitty temper and messes up easily, so good first target. Zhang, port tail." She pointed at a racer in crisp blue and orange, splotched with sponsors, helmet shielding their face. "Their captain."

The bikes slowed to a stop. Corvus faced front. The racer parked his bike to a stand-still, and yanked off his helmet as he dismounted.

He was a broad man, shoulders wide and stance tall, hair a black mop over his head, face a severe thing of bone and thin, tan skin. He was taller than anyone on Corvus by inches, and seemed to take pride in it, as he walked through the bikes without a single glance in any of their directions.

I wasn't a genius, but I wasn't an idiot.

"Tell me about Zhang?" I said.

Coach eyed me. "Luan Zhang, fifth year senior, Class I Huang Alpha, roughly six-foot-three. Fastest kid on their team. I offered him a spot on Corvus years before."

"You...what?"

"Pepperdine offered him a full ride though, so he denied it to come here."

"How old is he?"

"Twenty three, if I'm right. He's technically almost a sixth year because he skipped a semester due to family issues."

Rosalie was the first to move. She swung off her bike and stood before Luan in a heartbeat. He smiled down at her, an award-winning grin that was better fit for presidential campaigns and poster paper, brighter than suns and sweeter than daffodils and better than goddamn sliced bread. He said something she didn't like, earning himself a glare that could've burned Hell to a crisp.

Zahir was next to try and intervene, stepping behind Rosalie. Luan held his hands up, taking a step as if to pass them. Rosalie shoved him back. Beowulf was up in a second, grabbing Rosalie's arms. It was Zahir's turn to shove him.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Coach snapped. "Knock it off, all of you!"

Beowulf paid her no mind. He pushed Zahir so hard that he knocked into Kenzo, who didn't have enough time to prepare for the impact before smashing against Wynter. Diego jumped off his bike and pushed Beowulf to the ground. Train, Kim, and Windsor bounded off their bikes, snapping at Corvus to back away. Rosalie and Wynter yelled back as Kim snagged Diego by the collar of his jacket.

A shout broke the rumble before fists could begin flying. Kane stood at the head of the fight, staring coldly at the group of racer. He said something to Corvus that had them reluctantly retreating back. The Waves stared at him with mild interest.

"What the hell is their problem?" I asked.

"Don't wanna know. Everyone, get your asses back on the bike, we're on in a minute! What'd I just say about keeping focus?"

Luan stopped in front of Kane with his hand out to him. Even from my vantage, I could see every fiber of Kane tense just being within a few feet of the man. Luan smiled brightly, leaned in to say something. Kane took a clumsy step back and said something curt, jaw tight, fingers curled at his sides, his eyes focused on Luan's outstretched hand.

The buzzer sounded for the racers to get onto the bikes. Luan raised his hand to pat Kane on the shoulder. But Kane flinched away.

My whole body went cold. I said, "You meant it when you said you'd put me on that track if Kane couldn't take it, right?"

Coach frowned at me, but said, "Yes, if I really have to. Why?"

My eyes tracked Kane as he turned around and headed back for his bike, Corvus watching him approach. Zahir reached for him, but Kane just shook his head, and yanked on his helmet.

We ought to bring a knife on that damn track.

"I just want to make sure," I said, "we're not betting on the wrong wolf."

(i wrote the last part of this chapter at 3AM so if it seems weirdly written, just know that haha. darker chapter, more serious, I suppose. ty for reading, your time is very much appreciated, and the little star gives you a humbled bow for your presence :D and ty for 400 reads! that's a lot a lot for this little ol' story, so i give u my biggest thanks and hugs)