Night in Smallville – After the Race
The sound of engines had already faded into the distance. The smell of burnt rubber still lingered in the air. Most people had left, but Dante remained.
He looked at Ivan, his fists clenched. His face was serious—very serious.
"You guaranteed me that Pete would obey."
Dante swallowed hard. Ivan's gaze was burning.
"He was supposed to lose. I... I talked to him! The idiot changed his mind at the last minute!"
THUD.
Ivan grabbed Dante by the collar of his jacket, pulling him close.
"Your plan was solid? Is that what you're telling me? You made me lose money, Dante."
Dante tried to break free. His breathing quickened.
"I don't control Pete! He wanted to play the hero! This isn't my fault!"
Ivan tightened his grip. The silence between them was suffocating.
"I don't like losing. Not money, not respect. And because of you, I lost both."
Dante was sweating. The words caught in his throat.
Ivan let go of his collar with a shove. Dante stumbled back, taking a deep breath.
VRUUUM.
A car's headlights illuminated them. Ivan opened the passenger door, motioning for Dante to get in.
"Get in."
Dante hesitated.
"What? Where to?"
Ivan's smile was brief, humorless.
"To your shop. We need to talk."
Dante looked around. The parking lot was nearly empty. There was nowhere to run.
"Shit..."
He got into the car.
The door slammed shut with a dry THUMP.
VRUUUUM!
The car sped off, disappearing into the darkness of the road.
___
Dante's Workshop
The fluorescent light flickered, casting irregular shadows on the oil-stained floor. The air smelled of grease and burnt metal.
Ivan entered first. Dante followed hesitantly.
Ivan stopped beside the tool bench, picking up a wrench. He turned it slowly between his fingers.
"You made me look like an idiot, Dante."
Dante stood still. His heart pounded.
"Look, Ivan... I can make up for it. I can—"
Ivan hurled the wrench against the wall.
CLANG!
Dante jumped back, eyes wide.
"No excuses."
Silence swallowed the workshop. Only the flickering light remained.
Ivan walked slowly toward Dante. With each step, the air grew heavier.
"You know what happens when someone makes me lose money?"
Dante tried to hide the tremor in his hands.
"I... I can get the money back!"
Ivan stopped. His shadow stretched across the floor, distorted by the dim light.
"The money?"
He let out a low, humorless chuckle.
"This isn't about money anymore, Dante. It's about respect."
Dante swallowed hard. Sweat dripped down his forehead.
"Ivan, wait. We can handle this another way."
Ivan pulled a revolver from inside his coat.
CLACK.
Dante froze.
"I gave you my trust."
Ivan raised the gun, aiming at Dante's leg.
"You made me lose. Made me look like a fool."
Dante raised his hands, chest rising and falling rapidly.
"I had no choice! Pete… he changed his mind!"
Ivan tilted his head slightly, as if analyzing an insect trapped in a web.
"So now it's Pete's fault?"
Dante opened his mouth to respond, but the shot came first.
BANG!
The bullet tore through his leg.
"AAAAAHHHH!"
Dante collapsed to the floor, clutching his bleeding thigh. His scream echoed through the empty workshop.
THUD.
Ivan lowered the gun, watching him writhe in pain.
"Funny. Now it looks like you really don't have a choice."
Dante pressed his hands against the wound, his entire body trembling.
"Please… Ivan… I can fix this…"
Ivan calmly holstered the revolver, as if finishing a routine task.
"You already had your chance."
He walked to an old cabinet in the corner. Opened the rusted door and grabbed a gasoline can.
Dante's eyes widened.
"No… no… wait…"
GLUB.
The sharp smell filled the air as Ivan poured the liquid across the floor. It spread quickly, soaking old rags and wooden planks.
Dante tried to crawl back, but the pain in his leg was unbearable.
"What are you doing?!?"
Ivan tipped the can, emptying the rest over the tool bench. Then, he pulled a lighter from his pocket.
CLICK.
The flame flickered at the tip of the cold metal.
"Restoring my honor."
Dante shook his head frantically.
"No! You don't have to do this! Please!"
Ivan tossed the lighter to the floor.
FOOOSH!
The fire spread within seconds. Flames rose fast, licking the walls and equipment.
Dante screamed, trying to drag himself away, but the pain kept him locked in place.
Ivan took one last look at the scene.
"You had your chance."
He turned and walked out of the burning workshop without looking back.
The heat intensified. Smoke thickened the air. Dante coughed, eyes watering.
'This can't be happening… this can't be happening…'
The flames grew. The ceiling began to crack.
CRACK.
The structure groaned. The fire consumed everything.
Dante shut his eyes.
Fear was suffocating. But inside him, something burned even hotter.
Resentment.
Ivan disappeared into the darkness of the night.
The workshop was doomed.
So was Dante.
___
Pete's House – In Front of the Garage
VRUUUM.
The engine shut off smoothly. Sheriff Ethan Miller's car came to a stop in front of Pete's house. The night fell silent, with only the wind rustling the dry leaves on the sidewalk.
Pete took a deep breath, his hands still trembling in his lap. His body was exhausted, but his mind remained on high alert.
"So, tell me something, Pete."
The sheriff turned slightly in the driver's seat, resting an arm on the steering wheel. His steady gaze analyzed the young man beside him.
"Do you think it's worth it?"
Pete blinked, confused.
"Worth what?"
The sheriff sighed, leaning back.
"All of this. The illegal races. The risks. The dirty game."
Pete looked away. His thoughts spun like an engine revving out of control.
'Is it worth it? What if I hadn't won? What if they had run me off the road? What if…'
"I like to race."
The sheriff tilted his head.
"Liking to race is one thing. Liking to gamble your life behind the wheel for a bunch of criminals is another."
Silence weighed between them. The air felt colder than before.
"You're a good kid, Pete. But you're surrounding yourself with the wrong people."
Pete pressed his lips together.
"What if I'm already in too deep?"
The sheriff's expression darkened.
"Are you telling me you owe someone?"
Pete quickly shook his head.
"No. But I challenged the wrong people. Dante and Ivan won't let this slide."
The sheriff was silent for a moment. His eyes hardened.
"So now people are after you?"
Pete swallowed hard.
"Probably."
Ethan massaged his temple.
"Great."
He turned fully to Pete, his voice dropping to a more serious tone.
"Listen to me carefully. I'm giving you a chance. One chance to get out of this while you still can."
Pete felt his heart race.
"I…"
"No 'buts.' Either you walk away now, or you'll end up like all the others who thought they could play this game without consequences."
Pete lowered his head.
'I knew this was coming. But I didn't expect it to be this fast.'
The sheriff placed a firm hand on Pete's shoulder.
"You have a choice, kid. And I hope you make the right one."
Silence stretched between them. The wind blew against them, as if fate itself was waiting for an answer.
Pete lifted his head, his eyes determined.
"I… I'll think about it."
The sheriff raised an eyebrow.
"Better than nothing."
Pete let out a breath, feeling slightly relieved.
"Thanks, Sheriff. Really. I needed to hear that."
Ethan gave his shoulder a light pat before grabbing the car keys.
"If you ever need anything, call me. But make sure it's before you get yourself into more trouble, got it?"
Pete chuckled slightly, nodding.
"Got it."
The sheriff opened the car door, getting ready to leave.
"Good night, Pete."
Pete offered a small smile.
"Good night, Sheriff."
He stepped back, about to enter his house, when—
💥 BOOOOOM!! 💥
The night sky lit up in red and orange. A distant explosion shattered the silence.
Pete spun on his heels.
"What the hell was that?!"
The sheriff narrowed his eyes, locking onto the rising fireball in the distance.
Pete felt a chill creep up his spine. He recognized that place.
"Dante's workshop…"
Ethan slowly closed his car door.
"Stay here, Pete."
The engine roared as he turned the key in the ignition. The car lurched forward, tires screeching against the pavement. Pete took a step forward, his heartbeat racing.
The car's headlights illuminated the road ahead as thick black smoke rose on the horizon. Ethan kept his gaze locked straight ahead, his jaw tight.
Then, something changed.
His fingers gripped the steering wheel tighter. The once-steady eyes gleamed for a brief moment. His chest expanded, and the air around him seemed to vibrate.
WHOOSH!
In the blink of an eye, Ethan was gone.
In the driver's seat, now sat Clark.
To read 7 chapters ahead, go to
pat reon.com/22Mirko22