Dante... racing? That was new. He never did stuff like that. That was Damiano's thing. Speed, risk, freedom. Not Dante. But something inside me wanted to see what he was up to.
I didn't want to go, but Elena pushed so hard that I finally gave in.
The next morning, we were at the track. A private circuit on the outskirts, the kind of place the families used for bets that never touched a ledger. Black sedans lined the gravel lot, tinted windows up. Men in good suits stood in clusters, smoking, watching the cars being wheeled out. Elena ditched me to find Dante, and I wandered the paddock until I spotted his cousin Rocco talking to him near one of the garages.
"Seriously? You'll get yourself killed!" Rocco snapped, shaking his head. He cracked the knuckle of his right thumb. "I don't get why you're doing all this just to stay close to Elena."
Dante's voice was calm. Too calm. "It's the only way. I don't even know how to drive this car. Tampering with the brakes is all I could do."
My blood froze.