Webster felt panic, terror, and bone-deep dread crash over him all at once. Buried memories clawed their way to the surface, ready to drag him under.
A crushing weight settled on his chest. The air in the car seemed to vanish.
Just as Webster began drowning in the darkness, someone rapped on his window.
He jerked back to the present. His friend stood outside, staring at him with a puzzled expression.
"Mr. Noah, what are you doing here?" his friend asked.
Everyone in their crew knew Thunder Valley was off-limits for Webster. When they raced here, they never invited him.
But today, he'd shown up alone—and made quite the dramatic entrance.
Webster sucked in several deep breaths, trying to steady himself. His face stayed ghost-white. He pushed open the car door and stepped out. Spotting the unlit cigarette in his friend's hand, he snatched it, flicked his lighter, and took a long drag.
