The air is thick with the smell of gasoline and exhaust, mingling with the dust kicked up by hundreds of bikes.
The crowd is packed tight along the starting line, their voices rising in a deafening roar of excitement.
Headlights cut through the darkness like knives, illuminating the faces of riders and spectators alike.
I’m standing at the edge of the chaos, my hands gripping the handlebars of La Venganza.
My heart is pounding in my chest, but my hands are steady.
My breathing is calm.
I’m ready.
The Ruta de la Alpujarra.
The deadliest illegal race in Andalusia.
Two hundred kilometers of mountain roads, sheer cliffs, and tight hairpin turns.
One wrong move, and you’re dead.
I’ve been training for weeks.
I’ve pushed myself harder than I ever have before.
I’ve sacrificed sleep, food, everything.
All for this moment.
This is my chance to prove myself.
To show everyone what I’m made of.
To show him.
I scan the crowd, my eyes searching the sea of faces.
And then I see it.
A black and gold Harley, gleaming under the harsh lights.
El Rayo.
The Lightning.
I know that bike.
I know it better than I know my own reflection.
My breath catches in my throat.
My heart slams against my ribs.
He’s here.
Leo is here.
I watch as he dismounts, his tall frame cutting through the crowd like a blade.
He’s wearing black leather, his jet-black hair tousled by the wind.
His amber eyes are scanning the crowd, searching for something.
Searching for someone.
Searching for me.
I feel a surge of anger rise in my chest.
Hot and fierce and consuming.
He came all this way to find me?
After everything he did?
After everything he didn’t do?
I think about the night I left.
The party.
The laughter.
The way he watched me break and said nothing.
I think about the way he let me walk away.
The way he never fought for me.
The way he never even tried to stop me.
He doesn’t get to do this, I think.
He doesn’t get to show up here like he cares.
Like he ever cared.
I feel my jaw tighten.
My hands clench around the handlebars.
But then I see him more clearly.
He looks different.
Thinner.
Paler.
There’s a scar on his ribs, visible through his torn shirt.
A long, jagged scar that looks recent.
I feel something twist in my chest.
Something I don’t want to feel.
What happened to him?
I push the thought away.
I don’t care.
I don’t care what happened to him.
He’s nothing to me.
He’s always been nothing to me.
I think about all the times he tormented me.
All the times he pushed me away.
All the times he made me feel small and invisible.
And I think about all the times I wanted him to see me.
To really see me.
But he never did.
He never would.
I’m not the same girl who left Granada.
I’m not the broken, desperate girl who cried herself to sleep every night.
I’m Vengeance in Metal.
I’m a fighter.
I’m a survivor.
And I’m going to beat him.
I feel the anger burn inside me, hot and fierce.
It’s not just about winning the race.
It’s about proving to him, to myself, to everyone, that I’m not the girl he left behind.
I’m so much more.
Sergio appears at my side, his warm hazel eyes filled with concern.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice low.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” I force a smile.
“I’m fine.
I’m ready.” He studies me for a moment, his eyes searching.
Then he nods slowly.
“Good.
Because you’ve got this.
I know you do.” I feel a surge of gratitude.
Sergio has been good to me.
He’s believed in me when no one else did.
He’s given me a home, a purpose, a chance to rebuild my life.
I can’t let him down.
“I’m going to win,” I say, my voice steady.
“I’m going to win for you.
For me.
For everyone who ever doubted me.” He smiles, warm and genuine.
“That’s my girl.” I turn back to the starting line.
Leo is on his bike now, his amber eyes fixed on the track ahead.
He looks focused.
Determined.
He hasn’t seen me yet.
He doesn’t know I’m here.
But he will.
Soon enough, he will.
I think about the moment I beat him.
The look on his face when he realizes he lost.
The taste of victory, sharp and sweet on my tongue.
I want to see him broken the way he broke me.
I want to watch him crumble the way I crumbled.
I want revenge.
I look at the road ahead.
The mountains loom in the distance, dark and silent and unforgiving.
The track is treacherous, filled with dangers at every turn.
But I’m not afraid.
I’ve never been afraid.
I’m ready to ride like a demon.
The starter raises his flag.
The crowd falls silent.
The engines roar to life, a chorus of thunder that shakes the ground beneath me.
I grip the handlebars tighter.
My body tenses, ready to explode.
I think about my mother.
About her voice: “Feel that?
That’s freedom.
Never let anyone take it from you.” I feel the tears prick at my eyes.
I blink them away.
This is for you, Mami, I think.
This is for everything I’ve lost.
This is for everyone who ever doubted me.
This is for revenge.
The flag drops.
And we’re off.