Oops Wrong Girl to Bully (Angelina) by Xena Kessler novel Chapter 22

Chapter 22 *

62%

Angelina’s POV

There’s the main tent, Zion said, leading me toward a large white canopy where registration was happening. “We need to check in and get you

assigned a car

A burly man with Redstone Pack tattoos on his forearms sat at a folding ple with a clipboard. He looked up as we approached, his eyes sliding

over me with obvious disdain.

“Leo Sterling’s replacement?” His voice dripped with skepticism.

That’s right,” I said flatly.

He snorted. “This should be entertaining. Sign here. He shoved a waiver across the table.

1979)

I scanned the waiver–standard liability release, acknowledgment of potential death or serious injury, waiver of all legal claims. I signed

without hesitation.

“Your car’s the Nissan Z, lot B, space seven. Tyler’s got the Porsche.” The man’s smirk widened. “Good luck, sweetheart. You’re gonna need it.”

I didn’t bother responding. Let them underestimate me. Made things easie

Zion and I walked through the crowded pit area. Every face we passed showed the same reaction – confusion, amusement, outright mockery.

Whispers followed us like a wake.

We found the Nissan Z in lot B. It was a 2024 model, sleek lines, decent specs. Not bad for a stock vehicle. But compared to what I’d driven in

my previous life–custom–built machines worth millions, engines tuned to perfection–this was like comparing a pocket knife to a sword.

Still, a weapon was a weapon. And in the right hands, even a pocket knife could be lethal.

I walked around the car, checking the tires, testing the suspension with my hand, opening the hood to inspect the engine. Everything seemed properly maintained. That was something, at least.

“You actually know what you’re looking at? Zion asked, sounding surprise

A little, I lied.

“Five minutes to start time! someone shouted through a megaphone.

“That’s my cue.” I slid into the driver’s seat. The interior smelled of leather and air freshener. I adjusted the seat, the mirrors, tested the pedals: Muscle memory kicked in immediately. My hands knew where everything should be before my conscious mind registered it.

The PA system crackled to life. All racers to the starting line. Repeat, allcers to the starting line.

1 started the engine. It purred to smooth. Not as powerful as I’d like.

The track marshal directed me toward the starting line. As I pulled up, I saw him–Tyler. His Porsche 911 GT3 RS was a beast, midnight black with neon blue accent lines, custom rims that probably cost more than this entire Nissan. He sat in the driver’s seat, one arm draped casually over the steering wheel, confidence radiating off him like heat.

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Chapter 22

I pulled up next to him, my little Nissan looking almost cute beside his monster.

Tyler glanced over, did a double take, then rolled down his window. His fate split into a condescending grin.

He laughed, actually laughed. “What is this, bring your daughter to work day?”

I said nothing, just kept my eyes forward. Tyler continued. “What’s your nume? So I know who to send flowers to after you crash.

Still, I didn’t respond.

That seemed to annoy him. “You deaf or just stupid?”

I turned my head slowly, meeting his eyes. Let him see exactly how unimpressed I was.

“Neither. Just bored.”

N627

His smile faltered for a second. Then he forced it back, wider than before. Bored? Honey, you’re about to be terrified. This track? It’s called the

Badlands for a reason. Devil’s Drop, Reaper’s Curve, Dead Man’s Stretch–every turn’s got a body count. You sure Leo told –

“Eyes forward, I cut him off. The marshal’s starting.”

Tyler’s window rolled up with a sharp mechanical whine. The marshal walled to the center of the starting line, holding up the signal flags. The

crowd had gathered along the barriers, faces illuminated by the track lights and the glow of their phones. Drones buzzed overhead, capturing every angle. The big LED screens on either side of the track flickered to life, showing split–screen views of both cars.

I closed my eyes for just a second, let the old instincts wake up fully.

The marshal raised the first flag. Red light.

My hands tightened on the wheel.

Second flag, Red light.

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