The engines roared like wild beasts in a
cage .
A stadium flooded with lights, hearts, thundering, and thousands chanting one name ---
"Prizey ! Prizey ! Prizey !"
Among the racers , one stood out .
Not by luck, not by charm -- but by sheer power .
Midnight black jacket . Cargo pants hugging her like second skin.
Her black high-heel joggers gripped the bike like claws.
Gloved hands. Wolf tattoo coiled beneath her left ear.
Face masked . Helmet down.
She was untouched.
Unshakable.
Unstoppable.
Riding a fierce black McLaren, she surged past every other bike like a storm .
Wind howled behind her.
Rubber burned below her .
And the crowd..?
They couldn't look away .
In a split second blur---
BOOM.
The finish line shattered beneath her wheels.
The crowd erupted .
Confetti rained. Lights flashed.
And their she stood at the finish point
--- tall, proud , absolutely savage.
She pulled off her helmet..
Her jet-- black hair flowed out like a river of silk , catching the wind's rhythm.
Green eyes glinted -- deep as the wild forest .
She ran her fingers through her hair, brushed it back from her face..
Then , the mask came off.
Red lips. A tiny mole beneath the right side. That jawline -- a blade..
She didn't just win the race.
She owned it..
But instead of basking in fame , she walked past the crowd....
Past the cameras...
Straight into the arms of her best friend, Aliyah --- the only one who had stood by her when the world mocked her silence and called her weak ..
She hugged her tight , whispered:
"You were my strength when I had none.
This victory..? It's yours too."
And the whole world saw it:
Prizey didn't just ride with speed --
She rode with heart...
Now.... seen shifted towards the werewolf...
Who is in pain...
(To be continued)....