Chapter 2 SEBASTIAN

I should be overseas right now.

Two months. That's all it was supposed to be, somewhere loud and stupid where no one cared what my last name was or what I was supposed to represent. Instead, I'm here, trapped in this privileged prison.

I had already made the plans after graduation, told them where I would be and who I'd be with. It wasn't even a discussion. They just shut it down like they always do, like my life is something they get to approve piece by piece.

I let out a quiet, humorless laugh. Dragging me back here for the summer, away from everything that actually feels like mine, just to remind me exactly where I stand? It wouldn't be the first time. But it is the first time they are doing it after I turned eighteen.

I'm not staying here tonight. Not with them coming back and pretending this is some kind of reunion.

I'm in the living room when they walk in before I can leave. My mother first, composed as always. My father follows, still on a call before his attention settles on me. My little sister, Evie, just walks past, headphones in her ears, and heads straight upstairs.

"Sebastian," my mother says. "You are here."

"Clearly."

She studies me for a second. "And yet you didn't think to inform us?"

"You knew I was coming this week. I didn't think it mattered." I walk past them. "I'm going out."

My mother's gaze sharpens slightly. "We haven't seen you in months," she says. "The least you could do is spend your first evening at home with us."

"Is that what this is?" I almost laugh. "Home?"

My father steps in before she can respond.

"That's enough. We don't need this right now."

"No, actually, it's not," I say a little harshly. "You dragged me back here against my wish. The least you can do is not pretend this is about spending time together. You just want to control me."

"Sebastian--" My mother watches me for a long second. "Why is it so difficult for you to simply exist in this space without conflict?" she asks.

"Because this space doesn't exist without it."

I don't wait for a response. I grab my keys and walk out before they can stop me.

The further I drive from the estate, the easier it is to breathe. Streetlights blur past, the roads opening up as the city gives way to the old industrial district.

The abandoned stretch of asphalt is alive with engines and headlights cutting through the night. People crowd the sidewalks, and music blasts from a system nearby, competing with loud conversations.

Someone whistles the second my Aston Martin rolls in. "Yoh! Whitlock finally decided to show."

I kill the engine and step out. One of the racers pats my shoulder as I join them. "We thought your parents grounded you."

"They tried. I'm just not easy to tame."

That earns a laugh. "Attaboy!"

I glance toward the line of cars already waiting. Most of them are familiar. I have raced nearly everyone here at least once. The starter, Alaina, steps forward, looking at me with a flirty smile.

"You in, hotstuff?"

"When am I not?" I wink, opening my car again.

The driver on my right lowers his window long enough to smirk. "Get ready to lose, Whitlock."

I don't even look at him. "Keep dreaming."

I start the engine and the familiar rumble settles my nerves. Out here, nobody cares about anything else but racing. Either you are good enough or you are not. That's it.

Alaina raises her arm and engines roar around us. I rest my hand on the gear stick. The second her arm drops, I take off. The tires fight for grip before catching.

The car beside me stays close through the first turn, but it doesn't last. I know these tracks too well. By the last stretch, I have already pulled ahead. I cross the finish line first even though it feels like ages since I last raced.

When I climb out, someone claps me on the back. "Damn, Whitlock! That was epic."

I barely hear them since I'm too busy catching my breath. The adrenaline always hits after the race. For a few minutes, everything else disappears, cast only in a blaze of my own glory.

"There he is," the voice cuts through my internal celebration. "Man of the hour."

I turn. Hayden Cornell walks toward me, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket.

He is the kind of person who knows exactly where to stand to be seen. For a while, people treated him like the guy who ran this scene, the first name that came up when cars lined these streets. That used to be true. Now he looks at me like I have started taking that from him.

I sigh quietly. "What do you want?"

He shrugs. "I just came to congratulate you."

"And you expect me to believe that?"

A few people nearby glance over, sensing the tension that has been growing between us over the last several encounters.

"I've been wondering something." He looks at my car, then back at me. "Do you actually think you are good or have people just been letting you win because of who your family is?"

I let out a short laugh. "Is that supposed to bother me?"

"It should." He steps closer. "Without the Whitlock name, nobody would even know who you are."

"My driving says otherwise."

He smiles. "Does it? Or does daddy's money just buy faster cars?"

"Careful. You are beginning to sound jealous."

"Jealous?" he scoffs and looks around at everyone watching us. "I would be embarrassed if I needed my family's name to stay relevant."

I take one step toward him. "Careful, Cornell."

"Or what? You will run to your daddy's lawyers?" He laughs then twists his face with disgust. "Pathetic."

I exhale hard, my jaw flexing. "You done?"

He shakes his head, "Not even close." He inches closer, now breathing in my face, his dark eyes burrowing into my skin. "Are you really a real man... or all tantrums of a spoiled little brat?"

"Say that again."

"Hit a nerve?" he pushes.

There is a pause, a full beat where I could walk away but I don't. Instead, I shove him hard enough that he stumbles back. For half a second, everything goes still. Then, he shoves me back.

"Is that all you can do?" he challenges. "Trying to mask the beast underneath that shiny Whitlock emblem?"

I swing at him without thinking. The punch lands clean across his jaw, snapping his head to the side. The impact jars up my arm, painful and satisfying all at once. He recovers fast.

His fist connects with my ribs before I can fully reset, knocking the air out of me just enough to make me step back.

"Yeah," he spits. "That's about right. Come at me golden boy!"

I go for him again. This time it's messier.

Punches landing everywhere, shoving, someone trying to get between us and immediately getting pushed aside. I don't even register the hits over the surge of adrenaline.

Voices rise around us. "Hey-- hey, break it up!"

He swings again. I catch it badly, his knuckles clipping my cheek. I barely process it before I'm driving forward, slamming into him hard enough to knock us both off balance. We hit something... a car, wall, I don't know.

Someone grabs my arm. "Sebastian, stop—"

I rip free and throw another punch. I'm not sure where it lands this time. Next thing I know, someone grabs me from behind, wrenching my arms back before I can react.

"Enough!"

"Let me go!" I struggle on instinct, twisting hard trying to break free, but the grip tightens, forcing my arms higher until it hurts.

"Stop fighting or this is going to get more painful for you."

Everything crashes in at once. The sound of people scattering, commands in the air, and then, blue lights flashing around me.

Shit. I'm being arrested.

★★★

I expect it to be quick. That's how it always goes when your last name is Whitlock. So I wait.

At first, it doesn't even feel like time is passing. I sit back in the cell, watching people coming in and leaving, names being called, doors opening and closing. No one calls my name. My foot starts tapping before I even notice it.

My eyes flick to the door every time it opens. Nothing. I push up from the bench and call out to the officer in charge.

"Hey. How long is this supposed to take?"

No response. He doesn't even look up.

"I've been here longer than half the people you have already let go," I say. That earns me a brief glance. "I called my parents. They should have sent someone by now."

"Sit tight, Whitlock," he says. "Seems like your parents have more important things to do than cleaning up your mess tonight."