That is All I Ask For: Chapter 6: Shadows and Reflections
The night after the mock race,
Dante found himself unable to sleep. His body was tired, but his mind was
racing. Something about Micah didn't add up. He was undeniably skilled. Too
skilled. Not just in the way he drove, but in how he held back.
It wasn't hesitation. It was
calculation.
He lay in bed for an hour, eyes
fixed on the ceiling, before frustration pushed him upright. The city beyond
the window was a blur of headlights and shadows, but all he could see was
Micah's face as he stepped out of the car—calm, measured, unreadable.
He pulled on a hoodie and padded
barefoot to the bookshelf in the corner of the room. There, among dusty novels
and old racing manuals, was a blue photo album—college days. He hadn't looked
at it in years. Not since they all split ways after graduation.
He sat at his dining table and
flipped the book open. Smiles, parties, greasy garage nights, beachside
hangouts. There they were: Daniel, Meredith, Juno, Silas, himself. Young,
chaotic, foolish.
And then, in a group picture
taken from the audience stands at a racing event, something caught his eye.
A boy in the back. Half-shrouded
in shadows. Slender. Dressed simply. Head slightly lowered, but his eyes—they
stared straight at the racetrack. And Dante realized with a sharp jolt...
That was Micah.
Not Micah as he knew him now. Not
the confident racer who stood tall in front of crowds. This was a quieter, more
reserved version. A shadow.
Dante blinked and flipped pages
quickly. More group photos, more background appearances. The same boy again.
Slight changes in angle, but always on the edge of the frame. Always watching.
And yet, back then, he never
noticed him.
"Micah Slade." Dante
murmured aloud, trying to place the name again. It still didn't click. Not
fully.
He scrolled through his old
college contacts and called a few people he remembered from Micah's
circle—people who hung around the business department or came to the races.
"Micah Slade?" One of
them repeated. "Oh, the quiet guy? Yeah, I think I remember him. He was
always sitting with Meredith."
Another said, "Isn't he the
one who disappeared after college? Some said he went abroad. Others said he
started a company."
The fragments weren't helpful. No
one knew the full story. Just that he had always been quiet. Smart. And never
really belonged anywhere.
But Meredith had known. She came
to the underground field that night when he and Daniel had been talking to
Astral Blade. She'd stormed in, furious, and dragged them away.
That wasn't coincidence.
She had known who Astral was.
And maybe, just maybe... she'd
known more.
He grabbed his phone and called
her.
"Dante? It's past
midnight."
"Who told you about Astral?
That night. How did you know we were there?"
A pause. Then a careful answer.
"A friend called. Said they saw someone suspicious talking to you and
Daniel."
"A friend."
"Yes."
"Was that friend
Micah?"
She didn't answer immediately.
"Meredith."
Her voice came back firm,
guarded. "Drop it, Dante. Go to sleep."
"No, don't dodge this—"
"I'm serious. Leave it
alone. You don't want to start chasing ghosts that don't want to be seen."
And then she hung up.
Dante stared at the phone.
Micah Slade.
Something in him knew that wasn't
the whole truth.
He pulled up the Eclipse Group
website again. The massive real estate and logistics firm that had backed them
since their early days. The CEO was famously reclusive. Only known by a title:
M. Blade.
He clicked through the press
releases, sponsorship mentions, and partnerships.
Zero Eclipse Racing Team—Fully
Sponsored by The Eclipse Group.
Dante ran a hand through his
hair. He'd always thought it strange that they'd landed such a big sponsor
early on. Leo handled all the paperwork, and they'd never had to meet the head.
He stared at the name again: M.
Blade.
Could it be?
He opened the photos of the
college boy again and compared them with a still image he'd captured from their
last race.
Same jawline. Same eyes. The boy
in the shadows was now the man who could rival Dante on the track.
And then the twist hit him like a
sledgehammer.
Slade. Not Blade.
Or was it a lie?
He had to know.
He pulled on a jacket, slipped
into his boots, and left his apartment.
The underground track wasn't far.
He knew the back entrance well—a habit from days when he and Daniel used to
sneak in just to observe illegal races.
Tonight, the place was quiet. The
echoes of past races still hung heavy in the air. He walked slowly past the
empty seats, toward the dark pit lanes, and then to the lot where he and Daniel
had spoken to Astral.
"Can I help you?" A
voice called from a nearby bench. A man, smoking, stood up and approached.
"I was here last week.
Someone I know brought me. I wanted to ask about someone who might come here
often."
The man looked suspicious.
"Depends on the person."
"Micah Slade."
The name didn't seem to click
with him.
Dante tried again. "Tall,
sharp features, slick driving style. Drives like he owns the road. Real quiet,
doesn't talk much."
The man's eyes narrowed.
"You mean Blade?"
Dante froze. "What?"
"Blade. They call him Blade
around here. Races every now and then. But he doesn't like people knowing who
he is."
"Do you know his full
name?"
"Micah Blade. Think he's got
ties to some big company. Never said much. Paid in cash. Drives like a
ghost."
Dante stepped back.
"Thanks." He said,
voice quiet.
He turned and walked away
quickly, the name echoing in his mind: Micah Blade.
Not Slade.
Blade.
His sponsor. The one who funded
them. The man who'd been sitting in the shadows of Dante's life since college.
And he never knew.
Everything began to take new
shape.
Micah wasn't hiding from fear.
He was hiding from recognition.
Dante stood at the edge of the
empty track. The night air was cool, but his thoughts burned.
Why lie?
Why join them?
And what was Micah really after?
He sat on the cold railing and
closed his eyes. He tried to put himself in Micah's shoes. To feel what it must
have been like—always in the shadows, watching people live the life you wanted,
unable to step into the light.
He remembered every word Micah
had ever said, every look that seemed too cautious, every pause that seemed too
heavy.
"I kept a low profile. All I
wanted was to graduate and get away from my family."
"The boss is always
abroad."
"If I mess up this car, I'll
never forgive myself."
They weren't just throwaway
comments. They were shields. Micah had been controlling his image from the
moment he stepped into the team. Never lying outright, but never telling the
whole truth.
Dante remembered how Micah
reacted to Meredith's mention of his family—calm, almost too calm.
That wasn't indifference. That
was discipline. Years of learning how to keep the truth buried beneath a
practiced smile.
Micah Blade had money. Power.
Influence. But he chose to come here. To race with them. To stay hidden.
Why?
Not from himself. But from them.
From Dante.
Micah had crafted the perfect
persona. Quiet. Reliable. Talented, but humble. Everything Dante admired in a
teammate. Everything he might let into his inner circle.
He wasn't just blending in—he was
curating himself to be the kind of man Dante would trust.
And Dante had trusted him. Was
still trying to.
But now, he saw the seams in the
mask. The quiet calculations behind the smile.
Micah didn't want to be seen as
Blade. As the man with wealth and power.
He wanted to be seen as someone
else.
Someone Dante could love.
And that made it harder to hate
the lie.
Dante, who had once been blind to
the quiet boy in the background, was now the only one trying to understand the
man who had stepped forward.
He looked up at the stars. And in
the silence, one name repeated over and over again in his mind.
Micah Blade.
And for the first time, Dante
felt the true weight of the mystery he was now caught in.
He had to uncover the truth.
Before it swallowed them all.
But for that, he would need to
get closer.
Closer than ever before.
To the man who had watched him
from the shadows for years.
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