The smell of oil and gasoline fills the air, mixing with the sound of engines revving and tools clanking.
It’s been two months and two weeks since I arrived in Málaga.
Two months and two weeks since I started rebuilding my life from scratch.
And now, everything is about to change.
I’m standing in front of my bike, running my hand over the sleek curves of the frame.
La Venganza.
My masterpiece.
I built her from scrap, piece by piece, turning broken metal into something beautiful and fierce.
She’s silver with a gold flame licking up the tank, her engine purring like a wild animal waiting to be unleashed.
I call her The Revenge.
Because that’s what she is.
That’s what this is.
I think about everything I’ve been through.
The betrayal.
The pain.
The nights I spent sleeping on the streets, shivering in the cold, wondering if I would ever find my way back.
But I did find my way.
I found Sergio.
I found this garage.
I found my purpose.
And now, I’m going to prove myself.
I hear footsteps behind me and turn to see Sergio walking toward me.
His hazel eyes are warm and curious, his sun-lightened brown hair slightly messy.
He’s wearing his usual leather jacket and jeans, his hands shoved into his pockets.
“You ready for tonight?” he asks, leaning against the workbench.
I nod, my jaw set with determination.
“I’ve been ready my whole life.” He smiles, but there’s something in his eyes.
Concern, maybe.
Or worry.
“Alexander is good,” he says.
“He’s been racing for years.
He’s not going to go easy on you.” I meet his gaze, my eyes steady and fierce.
“I don’t want him to go easy on me.
I want to beat him fair and square.
I want to prove that I belong here.
That I was born to race.” Sergio studies me for a moment, his expression unreadable.
Then he nods slowly.
“I believe you,” he says.
“I’ve seen what you can do.
You’ve got fire in you, Aitana.
More than most people I know.” I feel a small smile tug at my lips.
“Fire isn’t enough.
I need to win.” “You will,” he says.
“I know you will.” He reaches out and touches my shoulder, his fingers warm and reassuring.
I feel the comfort of his presence, the safety of his touch.
But it’s not enough.
It’s never enough.
I push the thought away and turn back to my bike.
“I need to make a few final adjustments,” I say.
“I’ll see you at the track.” He nods, his eyes lingering on me for a moment longer.
Then he turns and walks away.
I watch him go, and I feel the weight of everything pressing down on me.
I can’t fail.
Not now.
Not ever.
— The underground racing track is alive with energy.
The roar of engines echoes off the concrete walls, and the crowd is packed tight, their voices rising in a frenzy of excitement.
The air smells like exhaust and sweat and adrenaline.
I’m standing at the starting line, straddling La Venganza.
My heart is pounding in my chest, but my hands are steady on the handlebars.
Beside me is Alexander.
He’s tall and lean, with dark hair and cold eyes.
He’s been racing for years.
He’s won more races than I can count.
He’s Sergio’s best rider, and he’s not happy about being challenged by a girl.
He looks at me, his lip curling into a sneer.
“You sure you want to do this, princess?” he asks, his voice dripping with condescension.
“This isn’t a game.
People get hurt out here.” I meet his gaze, my eyes steady and fierce.
“I know what I’m doing.” He laughs, cold and cruel.
“You think because you built a pretty bike, you can compete with the big boys?
You’ve got a lot to learn.” “Maybe I do,” I say, my voice calm and steady.
“But I’ll learn by beating you.” His eyes narrow.
“You’re going to regret that.” “No,” I say, a small smile playing on my lips.
“You will.” The crowd is chanting now, their voices rising like a wave.
The starter raises his flag, and the engines roar to life.
I grip the handlebars tighter, my body tense and ready.
I think about everything I’ve been through.
The pain.
The betrayal.
The nights I spent crying myself to sleep.
I think about my mother.
About her voice: “Feel that?
That’s freedom.
Never let anyone take it from you.” I think about Leo.
About the way he watched me break and did nothing.
I feel the anger rise inside me, hot and fierce.
This is for me, I think.
This is for everything I’ve lost.
This is for everyone who ever doubted me.
This is for revenge.
The flag drops.
We’re off.
— The race is brutal.
The track twists and turns, the asphalt slick with oil and dust.
The other riders are fast and aggressive, pushing their bikes to the limit.
But I’m faster.
I’m hungrier.
I weave through the pack, my body leaning into every curve, my hands steady on the handlebars.
La Venganza roars beneath me, her engine singing like a battle cry.
Alexander is in the lead, but I’m gaining on him.
I can see him glancing back at me, his eyes wide with surprise.
He didn’t expect this.
He didn’t expect me.
I push harder, leaning into the final turn.
The world blurs around me, and for a moment, I feel like I’m flying.
And then I’m past him.
I’m in the lead.
I’m crossing the finish line.
The crowd erupts.
The roar of their voices is deafening, filling the night air with a wave of sound.
I pull off my helmet, my heart pounding, my chest heaving.
Sweat drips down my face, and I’m grinning like a madwoman.
I won.
I actually won.
Alexander pulls up beside me, his face pale with shock.
“I don’t believe it,” he mutters, shaking his head.
I meet his gaze, my smile sharp and fierce.
“Believe it.
I was born to race.” He stares at me for a moment.
Then he nods slowly.
“Fine.
You’ve got skills, princess.
I’ll give you that.” I feel the grin spread across my face.
It’s not just skills.
It’s everything.
Everything I’ve been through.
Everything I’ve lost.
Everything I’ve fought for.
The crowd is still cheering, their voices rising in a chant.
“Vengeance in Metal!
Vengeance in Metal!” I feel the tears prick at my eyes.
I don’t wipe them away.
I let them fall.
Because for the first time in a long time, I feel alive.
Sergio appears at my side, his face beaming with pride.
He pulls me into a tight hug, his arms strong and warm.
“I knew you could do it,” he says, his voice filled with emotion.
“I knew it.” I pull back and look at him.
“Thank you, Sergio,” I say.
“For everything.
For believing in me.
For giving me a chance.” He smiles, his eyes soft and warm.
“You didn’t need a chance.
You just needed someone to see what you could do.” I feel the weight of his words settle in my chest.
Someone to see me.
I’ve been searching for that my whole life.
And maybe, just maybe, I’ve found it.
But as I look at Sergio’s face, I feel something else.
Something I can’t name.
Something that aches.
I push it away and focus on the crowd, on the victory, on the moment.
I am Vengeance in Metal.
And I will never be broken again.