Urban’s motorcycle dropped out from beneath her as she fell one floor, then two, then she lost count.

How much of the landing would she feel? Hopefully she’d die instantly.

I don’t want to die.

She would never get a chance to do so many things. Her life had been too short. Why is life so unfair?

Suddenly, something hit her side hard, knocking the wind out of her. She rocketed toward a window, bracing herself for the impact.

With a crack and then a crash, glass shattered, exploding dozens of glistening shards around her. But Urban felt no pain as she tumbled onto a concrete floor. As she rolled to a stop, something solid pressed up against her chest. With her system offline, her night vision was out, and she couldn’t see in the blackness engulfing her.

Someone let go of her waist and feathers brushed across her skin.

A flare sparked to life and bathed the darkness in red light.

Urban gasped. A masked Flyer stood cloaked in shadows, staring at her.

She was in too much shock to say anything as the Flyer picked glass out of his wings.

He inclined his head. “You should be more careful.” His voice was grim and higher pitched than she would have expected for his size.

Without another word, he leaped out the nearest window and vanished.

Urban stared after him in stunned silence until the flare began to sizzle and pop, and she realized she’d better leave before it went out and she was plunged back into darkness. Wiggling her toes and fingers, she found them all to be in working order and breathed a sigh of relief. Shakily, she pushed herself into a standing position.

The flare popped again, and this time, went out.

In the darkness, Urban groped her way for an exit. She bumped into something smooth. After finding the handle, she let herself out.

In the hallway, cold, musty air and cobwebs greeted her. In the distance, she heard a commotion.

She tried to remember which building she’d crashed into. She was pretty sure it was the same one she was supposed to land on. She found the elevator and pressed the top floor. As she drew nearer to the roof, the upheaval grew louder.

With a ding, the elevator opened to total mayhem.

The Artisan’s motorcycle was still pumping bass and vibrating the roof. Barely audible above it were screams, angry yelling, and crying. People ran about in total confusion, others stood in huddled corners silently talking.

“Where is she?” the announcer yelled at some Flyers. “She can’t just disappear into thin air. If her motorcycle is down there, she has to be too.”

One of the students noticed her. His eyes widened. “There she is!”

Several people looked where he was pointing. The music stopped. Everyone turned and ran toward Urban. One person outran all the others.

Lillian didn’t loosen her grip for some time. When she finally did, she had tears streaking down her face. She said nothing, just kept squeezing Urban’s hand as if to assure herself her sister really was alive.

“I thought I’d failed,” she whispered numbly.

What on earth does that mean? Before Urban could ask, Coral was beside her. “You alright?”

Urban nodded weakly.

“What happened?” someone asked.

“Yeah! Where did you go?”

A million questions followed.

“Let’s get you home.” Lillian didn’t seem angry at all. Urban wasn’t sure what she had expected upon returning, but an “I told you so” wouldn’t have been a surprise.

“Wait a second!” a voice boomed. “We still haven’t announced the race results.” The announcer stared at her.

Urban faced the announcer as the crowd fell silent.

“And the loser is . . . Lee Urban!”

Urban stood dumbstruck.

“Ridiculous,” Lillian snapped.

“This is street racing.” The announcer shrugged. “Bike or no bike, she came in last. That makes her the loser.”

Lillian pushed her way to the announcer and stood centimeters from him, stretching every bit of her one-point-seven meters. Even then, she only came to the Super’s chest.

“She almost died.” Lillian’s voice was ice, her eyes hard as obsidian. It was a tone Urban hadn’t ever heard her sister use before.

Even the Super seemed taken aback by her intensity but quickly recovered. “It’s the rules.”

“Rules are made to be broken,” Lillian argued, glancing around for support. “Isn’t that what street racing is all about?”

A couple whoops and a stray clap from the crowd.

“Listen, if she wasn’t planning on taking the risk, she shouldn’t have raced,” the Super retorted. “Tell you what, I’ll let her delay fulfilling her truth-or-dare, seeing as she’s had a rough night.” There were several boos at this. “That’s the best I can offer.”

Lillian’s face drained white.

“Truth or dare? Choose!” the announcer bellowed.

“Choose! Choose! Choose!” the crowd chanted.

The Super held up his hand for silence. “What will it be?

Urban swallowed. “Dare.”

“I was hoping you’d pick that.” An abominable grin crossed the Super’s face. “Your dare will take place at a time and place of our choosing. For now, you are free to go.”

Not knowing was worse. “When will I be notified?”

“You won’t.” Came the smug reply.

“But then how will I know where to go or what to do?”

The Super laughed. “Oh, you’ll know.”

The group began to disperse. Urban was one of the first to leave. She didn’t want to stick around and see Olive’s gloating eyes or face Lillian’s “told-you-so’s” or endure Coral’s questions.

But before she could escape, Lillian cornered her. “What happened out there?”

“You tell me,” Urban hissed.

Lillian’s brow furrowed.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t rat me out to our parents.” Urban attempted to move by her, but Lillian blocked her.

“What are you talking about? I didn’t tell anyone except Trig.”

“Then who accessed SCA and locked me out as I was going up that ramp?”

“Is that what happened?” Lillian gasped. “Mom told me the last time she accessed SCA was yesterday.”

I’ve been hacked. Again.

Urban started off, and this time Lillian let her pass.

How do I keep getting hacked? It’s like someone has my root password or something. But that’s impossible.

Her mind was still whirring as she reached ground level and found her motorcycle, or what remained of it. Her heart sank. There wasn’t so much as a stray part worth salvaging.

Her most prized possession was strewn in pieces across the overgrown street. A knot twisted in her stomach as she picked up a fragment of it. This could have been me.

She sank down onto the deteriorating sidewalk in a hidden alley to avoid everyone while she waited for a rental to be air dropped. She checked the price of the rental and sighed. I’m definitely not going to make it through the end of the semester with enough crypto points now.

She filtered through her list of friends, checking off anyone whom she could ask to borrow from. But the thought of it brought her so much shame. The only people she felt she could even ask were Everest and Lillian. But Everest barely had enough for himself and his own family. And Lillian . . . I can’t exactly ask her after what just happened.

It grew still and silent as the last of the crowd went their way.

So much for racing. So much for staying out of trouble. Mother and Father are going to kill me if they find out I totaled my motorcycle.

Once on her rental, she sped out of the ghost city, the familiar green triangle followed close behind. Frustration overwhelmed her. I can’t even escape my own bodyguard. I can’t get freedom in any part of my life. If I had a high sosh, I wouldn’t have had to risk my life at all.

At the thought, she checked her sosh and saw her near death and disappearance had helped her pull it up to 65. Not bad, except she was out of crypto and wasn’t planning on risking her life again.

Maybe working out with Brooke isn’t such a bad idea after all.