That is All I Ask For: Chapter 22: Where the Past Doesn't Win
The Zero Eclipse team arrived at
the final track just as the sun began to vanish behind the heavy banks of storm
clouds.
Crowds roared in the stadium,
voices a tidal wave of anticipation. Giant banners fluttered against the gusty
wind—some bearing Rai's face with "Shield of Zero Eclipse" stamped
across them, others with Micah's name in sharp, aggressive typography. One
simply read: We Rebuild. We Rise.
Rai stepped out of the hauler,
eyes sweeping the stadium. He could hear them cheering his name. His name. The
rookie who once doubted if he belonged anywhere at all.
Daniel clapped him on the
shoulder as he passed. Meredith tossed him a fresh comm earpiece. Micah gave
him a nod—firm, steady, no words needed.
Rai exhaled.
Inside the garage, Dante stared
at the car as mechanics finished the final checks. The black-and-silver beast
gleamed under the lights, accented by the new wristbands each team member wore.
His own felt tight around his
wrist, grounding.
Micah stood near the rear of the
garage, silently adjusting his gloves.
Dante approached.
"You ready?"
Micah didn't look away from the
car. "Always."
There was more he wanted to say.
But there wasn't time.
The storm was already on the
horizon.
The countdown to green felt
longer than any race he'd ever faced. His fingers tightened around the wheel.
He could hear Meredith's voice faintly in his ear.
"Telemetry looks clean.
Watch your right flank in sector two. They'll try something early."
Rai inhaled. Focused.
The light turned green.
Tires screamed.
He launched forward.
Zero Eclipse's formation was
tight—Dante in front, Daniel flanking the outer line, Micah bringing up the
rear as anchor. Rai held position just ahead of Micah, his car positioned as
both offense and bait. Vortex circled close behind—sharp, fast, ruthless. Their
lead driver, Vayne, tailed them with unsettling precision.
For the first few laps, things
remained tense but contained. Every second was a tactical war. And still, Rai
felt the shield behind him—Micah, calculated and unflinching, watching
everything.
Because Micah was behind him. And
that meant he was safe.
From the cockpit, Dante stayed
focused but couldn't help glancing in the side mirror. He could see the
movement behind him—Micah tailing like a silent storm, guarding the team from
the back, letting nothing through.
Micah could have pushed forward.
He had the engine to dominate. But he stayed behind. Because that's who he was
now.
He doesn't race to be seen. He
races to make sure we reach the end.
There was something unspeakably
beautiful in it.
Micah's hands on the wheel.
Micah's restraint. Micah, choosing them over glory.
Dante's heart ached with
something deeper than pride.
Please stay safe.
It was sector three, the mountain
bend. The one Meredith had warned Rai about.
Micah felt it before he saw it.
Rai was being boxed.
Two Vortex cars had moved up on
either side. The leader dropped speed subtly, forcing Rai to adjust his
trajectory. It was a setup. The same kind they used that day.
Memory cracked through him.
Julian's voice: "Micah,
they're crowding me... I don't have space."
The sound of metal. Sparks. The
smell of burning fuel.
Adam's voice, colder than the
wreckage: "You let him die because you hesitated."
Micah gripped the wheel. Not
again.
He punched the throttle, broke
from anchor formation, and slingshot past Daniel and Dante with blinding speed.
One Vortex driver clipped his
rear fender. He didn't care.
He forced open the formation,
slicing between the wall and Vayne's left flank. Rai swerved free.
"You didn't have to do
that!" Rai shouted over the comms.
Micah: "Family doesn't watch
each other crash."
In the crowd, some fans had
already risen to their feet, recognizing the maneuver. They'd seen the old
footage. They knew what Micah had just undone.
Rai saw it all in his mirrors.
The way Micah moved. The way he risked it all without a blink.
And suddenly, all those rumors
Rai had heard about him didn't matter. All that pain Micah carried wasn't
weight.
It was fuel.
Micah wasn't just his teammate.
He was a legend.
Rai whispered to himself, a smile
flickering despite the tension:
"You're incredible,
Micah."
He accelerated to fall in behind
him—not to be protected anymore, but to protect him back.
Dante watched the move unfold,
disbelief and awe tightening in his chest.
Micah had gone from guardian to
weapon. Not for glory. Not for recognition. Just to make sure Rai wasn't hurt
the way Julian had been.
He saw Micah break rank. Saw the
glint of resolve in every turn.
And in that moment, Dante loved
him more than he ever had.
Not because he was perfect.
But because even in his
brokenness, Micah chose them.
He chose love over fear.
The last lap.
Micah surged ahead.
The crowd erupted. The final
sector was chaos—Vortex scrambling to retaliate, but Zero Eclipse had found
their rhythm.
Rai fell in behind Micah. Dante
and Daniel flanked them with perfect timing.
The finish line screamed closer.
Micah crossed it first.
Rai followed.
Then Dante. Then Daniel.
A one-second spread.
A perfect finish.
The stadium shook with thunderous
cheers. Cameras flashed. Announcers screamed.
"Zero Eclipse has done it! A
clean sweep in the final seconds! Micah Blade takes the win—but this... this
was a team triumph!"
Inside the car, Micah finally let
himself breathe.
His fingers rested over the
steering wheel, where he wrote the message for himself and for the team.
What we rebuild, they can't burn.
He glanced into the mirror—saw
Rai's grin, and Dante's quiet nod.
Not just teammates.
Family.
Later, as the celebrations roared
around them, Dante found Rai near the pit wall, unwrapping his gloves, cheeks
flushed with adrenaline and joy. The lights of the arena still pulsed above
them, but the crowd’s noise had started to melt into the background hum of
celebration and camera flashes.
Dante leaned against the wall
beside him, arms crossed.
“You said once,” He began, voice
low, “that Micah was the reason you ever started driving.”
Rai looked up, surprised by the
sudden question.
Dante’s eyes remained steady.
“Why?”
Rai was quiet for a beat. Then he
turned fully toward him, expression softening.
“It was Berlin. Back-alley
circuit, seven years ago.” Rai said. “My brother, Kio, was racing in a street
heat that went sideways. Someone tried to box him in—dirty move. If Micah
hadn’t cut in and forced a gap, they would’ve crashed him head-on into the barrier.”
He exhaled, eyes drifting to the
track they’d just conquered.
“Kio walked away with a few
bruises and a new hero. I was in the crowd. Watched the whole thing. No flash,
no celebration. Micah didn’t even stop. Just disappeared after making sure my
brother lived.” He smiled faintly. “That was the day I knew I wanted to drive.”
Dante felt something shift in his
chest. The pieces falling into place. All the quiet ways Micah had changed
lives without anyone knowing.
Without asking for anything in
return.
“Why didn’t you ever tell him?”
Dante asked.
Rai gave a lopsided shrug. “He
wouldn’t want me to. It’s not why he does things.”
There was a pause between them,
thick with unspoken things.
Then Dante followed Rai’s
gaze—searching the celebration.
No sign of Micah.
Just noise, banners, fans
flooding the front rows.
Rai frowned. “Where did he—”
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