Chapter 5 - The Shadow on the Track
The morning air at Westbridge High was crisp and clean as the track team finished their final relay drills. Seventeen-year-old Ethan Carter jogged off the red synthetic rubber, wiping sweat from his forehead with a white towel, feeling a quiet sense of satisfaction. He had aced his first-period calculus quiz, and his graphic design scholarship portfolio was nearly complete.
As he walked toward the metal bleachers to grab his backpack, a sleek, matte-black Cadillac Escalade with tinted windows bumped across the grassy perimeter of the athletic field, stopping thirty feet from the benches.
Ethan frowned. Visitors weren't permitted to drive onto the field during class hours.
The rear door swung open, and Marcus Vance stepped out, wearing his sharp charcoal overcoat, his sunglasses reflecting the morning sun. Two massive men in dark suits stepped out behind him, spreading out to block the exits.
Ethan stood his ground, his defensive instincts flaring. "Can I help you? Track practice is closed. You need to talk to the front office."
Marcus stopped ten feet away, flashing an oily, artificial smile. "Ethan Carter. You're a hard kid to track down. Working late at the diner, running track in the morning... you've got quite a work ethic. Your mother must be very proud."
Ethan’s stomach tightened. "Who are you? How do you know my name?"
"Let's just say I'm an old friend of your family," Marcus replied smoothly. "I represent some very powerful people in this city—people who take a deep, personal interest in the Carter family lineage. Your great-uncle Jack wants to bring you into the family business. He wants to give you millions. But there's a catch."
Marcus tossed a thick manila envelope onto the aluminum bleacher bench. It slid across the metal and stopped near Ethan’s gym bag.
"Inside that envelope," Marcus said, his voice dropping into a razor-sharp whisper, "is the complete history of why your family has been living in poverty for twenty years. If you take Jack's money, you sign away your clean name. And if you refuse... well, let's just say your mother's medical treatments might suddenly become entirely unaffordable."
Before Ethan could process the terrifying threat, the sharp screech of tires echoed from the access road behind the bleachers.
May you like
A massive, matte-black Harley-Davidson chopper came screaming around the corner, jumping the curb and tearing across the grass toward the track field at terrifying speed.
At the helm was Jack Carter. His leather cut was whipping in the wind, his grizzled gray beard flying back, his cold, dead eyes locked entirely onto Marcus Vance with the terrifying, murderous fury of a wounded grizzly bear.
