We were Born to Die

ers of competition. My heart pounds against my ribcage, a wild rhythm echoing the anticipation the swirls within me. I take a deep breath, the cool night air filling

deter me from my own goal. With a silent exchange of look, we acknowledge the challenge ahead, a silent pact sealed in the revving of engines. I focus my attention back to the asphal

eth, willing the machine to obey, to heed my command and propel me forward into the fray. As I wait, a surge of determination flood through my veins, drowning out the dou

the bliss of victory beckoning me forward like a siren's call. And then, finally, it begins. The signal is given, a gunshot shattering the stillness

ists and turns with precision and grace. The rush of adrenaline is intoxicating

t my helmet, a reminder of the freedom and power that came with every twist and turn of the race. As I rounded yet another corner, the roar of the crowd grew louder, their cheers pushing me forward with an adrenaline-fue

push the bike harder, urging to go faster, to outrun him and secure my victory. The finish line loomed ahead, a beacon of triumph surrounded by a se

esolve, but I refused to let him snatch victory from my grasp. Summoning every ounce of strength and determination, I pushed the bike to its limits, the engine

othing else mattered. Breathless and exhilarated, I basked in the glow of hard-earned victory, the taste of success sweeter than I could ever imagined. As I glanced ba

ow. I couldn't help but grin, knowing that my presence was adding salt to his freshly opened wound. But before I could even blink, his hand shot out, grabbing my collar with a fierce grip. Shock course

bing through my lip. Without a second thought, I swung my leg up, aiming for the most vulnerable spot I could find. My foot connected with precision, striking him sq

nct took over as I swiftly grabbed his outstretched hand, twisting it behind his back with practiced ease. The satisfyin

flew, and shouts filled the air as the two factions collided in a whirlwind of aggression. Amidst the chaos, I found myself facing off against several of Mario's men. Adre

determination driving me forward. With each opponent defeated, my confidence grew, fueled by t

lectricity. His eyes bore into mine, and I could sense trouble looming on the horizon. Before I coul

gertips a comforting presence amidst the chaos. But just as I reached for the handlebars, Mario's hand clamped around my shoulder like a vise. "You'll pay for this, bi-" he started, venom

chest, I realized they had made the split-second decision to leave me behind, knowing I could handle myself, just as we agreed. With a heavy heart, I pushed the glass of my helmet down over my eyes, shielding my identity from the

w were strangers, their faces twisted in fear and confusion as the police descended upon them like a pack

e and carefully hung my helmet on the handlebar. The clang of metal against metal seemed to punctuate the tension that hung in the air. Mr. Winston, our loyal butler, stood waiting for me, a silent sentinel in the guard foyer. His presence a

in concern. "Do they know," I enqui

onfirmed, his tone somber

d those imposing doors. My brothers Giovanni, Alessandro, and Matteo, were formidable in their own right, and when they were displeased, the

eavy with the scent of expensive cigars and aged whiskey, a familiar scent that like a ghost of indulgence past. The casino awaited beyond, a haven for my brothers when they returned home from their business

hum of conversation, the rhythmic clicking of chips, it was all so familiar, so comforting in its chaos. And ami

s. They were a formidable duo, each possessing their own strength and weaknesses, but together they were a force to be reckoned with. I met their gaze head-on, my own expression one of calm defiance. Wh