Smack. Reine's palm stung from the force it connected with Max's cheek. She rose from her seat with the momentum, but he grabbed her wrist before standing to face her.

"I did it for you, you have to understand that. I just wasn't expecting you to take off for England," he said.

She struggled in vain to escape his grip. "I'm sorry for ruining your plans by not jumping into your arms as soon as you killed my boyfriend."

"No! You've got it all wrong. But I promise you that - no matter what it takes - I'm going to make this right. You're going to have the future you deserve - the one you should have had if I hadn't interfered - with the man you love."

The frantic beats of Reine's heart rang in her ears. All she wanted was to get back to Morgan and the car, but Max was blocking her way. An increasing number of motorcycles passed on the track below them, and she had to yell over the noise. "Make it right? How can you make it right? He's dead, Max! But there you go again, thinking you can pull some strings, make some calls, or do whatever you do and then everything will be fixed. Don't forget that's how we ended up here to begin with. You're not perfect, Max. You don't have all the answers. You can't make everything right just by wishing it so."

Without letting go of her hand, he sat back down. "I owe you this, Reine. Give me another chance," he begged.

She shook her head, but returned after him to the cold, plastic seat. The moment of rebellion had passed and the numbness was returning to both her body and mind. She sighed. "A chance for what? To screw my life up even more? Absolutely not."

"You don't think people can change?" He raised an inquisitive brow.

"Of course I believe people can change. I'm just not entirely convinced that it's always for the better," she said.

Max smirked. "How can I get any worse?"

"You're really not making your case," Reine said with increasing exasperation. Max's candor was slowly wearing down her resolve, and she stifled a nervous giggle. "But what I don't understand is why you thought telling me all this would make things better. Because it doesn't Max. Sometimes ignorance is bliss, especially when someone you care about may have done something really, really bad."

He squeezed her hand before lifting it to his lips. After kissing it gently, he let go and stood up. "You haven't been listening to what I'm saying. And I'm telling you all this now because as soon as we leave here, I'm driving straight down to Bruges. I'm going to turn myself in to the Council like I should have weeks ago and finally end this."

No matter how misguided in his actions he may have been, Reine couldn't lose Max, as well. "No! They'll take away your immortality for sure," she said, rising from her seat after him.

"They won't do that." He put his hands on her shoulders.

She looked into his eyes. "How do you know?"

"Because I can do something that they haven't been able to accomplish in three centuries." Max leaned closer and whispered in her ear, "I can take Wescott down."

"Why?" she asked, pushing him away. "To expand your territory? To solve your personal vendetta?"

Instead of answering, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded newspaper. Opening it, he held up the front page and pointed to the headline in the lower right corner.

"Oh my God." Reine covered her mouth with her hand as she read the words: Lord Wescott Awarded Rails Contract after Recent Tragedy Uncovers Security Flaws.

"This is just a small example of what he's capable of. Among other things, he has billions riding on who comes out on top in Afghanistan, and let's just say he's not betting on Old Blighty. So I'm really not the only one who'd benefit from Wescott losing his status." He offered her his hand. "Come. It's about time I showed you something."

Overwhelmed with emotion and weary of further surprises, Reine hesitated.

"Please," Max added. "I didn't have you stop at this racetrack just because it was on your route back to London. I wanted you to come specifically here for a reason."

She sighed and followed him up to the top of the stands. They now had an almost complete view of the whole track from the starting grid and the first chicane to the twisting pattern that was previously hidden behind the pits.

"The session just ended, so they should be all coming in after this lap." Max indicated toward the large light board flashing 00:00:11 and counting down the final seconds. "See that group over there?" He pointed toward the middle of the course. "Watch the two riders in front."

Reine focused on the lead motorcycles that were quickly breaking away from the rest of the pack. What was previously a battle among a handful of bikes was now reduced to a duel between just the two: one black and one red.

She had no idea about technical details, but Reine could clearly hear the difference in the machines' acceleration as they shifted gears to maneuver the sharp bends. Although they made the feat seem effortless, Reine held her breath when the riders leaned so far into a turn that the tail pipes sparked from touching the asphalt.

"I thought you said this wasn't a race," she said, turning to Max, who - by the smile on his face - was clearly enjoying the performance.

"There's always room for friendly rivalries. Or testing each other's limits," he responded without taking his eyes off the action.

Reine shook her head. Even after having lived more than half a millennium, Max still had the typical "boys with toys" attitude. If she hadn't been so furious with him, she would have questioned why he didn't join in on the fun.

The bikes were now only a few turns away from the finish, and the leader changed with each corner. Approaching the final hairpin, the black bike was ahead until the other started overtaking on the outside line. With their elbows almost touching, both riders visibly struggled to keep control as their handlebars shook and their back wheels skidded across the pavement. For a brief moment, the battle could have gone either way, until the black bike ran out of pavement. In the end, the red motorcycle emerged victorious as the other skidded onto the grass.

Watching the disappointed rider hit his gas tank in frustration sent a strange tingle up Reine's spine.

"You feel it, don't you?" Max returned his attention to her.

She looked up at him. "Feel what?"

Instead of answering, he pointed down to the red bike leaving the racetrack.

Slowing as it entered pit lane, the rider pulled the motorcycle into garage number eight and stopped just a few feet inside. Swinging his long leg over the seat, he dismounted before reaching for a metal stand and placing it behind the rear wheel. After letting go of the machine, he removed his leather gloves and threw them on a nearby table.

He remained near the pit's entrance, fiddling with the helmet's chinstrap. The wait for him to remove it seemed to last forever, and the anticipation was making Reine's knees go weak. When he finally lifted the helmet to reveal a mop of tousled, blonde hair, she drew in a sharp breath and exhaled in a whisper. "You said he was dead."

"Oh, no. I was very careful never to use that word," Max protested before Reine disappeared from his side. "Wait, where are you going?" He ran down the steps after her.

"I have to talk to him." Reine leaned over the rails that blocked her from falling ten feet to the track below. "Gabe!" she yelled, but an engine revving drowned out her voice and allowed Max catch up.

"You shouldn't do that, Reine," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

Shrugging it off, she lifted her chin defiantly. "Why not? Gabe's alive! I have to let him know I'm here."

Max nodded toward the pits again. Following his gaze, Reine saw the motorcycle that had run off the track also pull into garage eight. Without getting off, its rider just braced the machines with his legs and pulled off his helmet, revealing a cascade of long, black hair underneath.

"That's . . .." The woman's name stuck in Reine's throat and her mouth fell agape.

"Jameela Singh, yes," Max finished for her.

Hearing the name out loud clicked something in Reine's subconscious. "Wescott mentioned a Millie at his party. He told her to stay away."

"Yes, he did." Max concurred without elaborating on what else he knew about the relationship.

"Well, I don't care about her. I still need to talk to him." She balled her fists as Gabe and Jameela laughed just a few hundred feet away.

Max reached for his phone and began dialing.

"You've had his number this entire time?" Reine's eyes widened as he handed her the device, but the sound of ringing quickly put a lump in her throat. She was suddenly very aware that she didn't know what to say.

The rings continued as Gabe walked toward the corner before rummaging through a backpack. Finding his phone, he finally answered. "Hello?"

Reine cleared her throat. "Uhm. Gabe?"

"Yes. Who's this?" His voice made her heartbeat accelerate.

She momentarily closed her eyes and took a deep breath before speaking. "It's me, Reine."

There was a brief silence from the other end. "I'm sorry, who?

"Reine. Reine Baldwin," she stammered, fighting back tears as his face failed to register any emotion.

Even from across the road, it was clear he was furrowing his brows. "Do I know you Miss Baldwin?" he asked politely.

Reine couldn't answer, nor could she continue looking at him. After spinning around, her vision blurred and the phone fell out of her hand. She was unconscious even before her body crumpled to the ground.