The final stretch of the race was a warzone. Vehicles exploded in bursts of fire, gunfire echoed across the track, and smoke clouded the path to the finish line. Matthew was in the lead, but it wasn't without consequence—his Dodge Charger Hellcat had become the primary target.
A crazed driver suddenly locked onto him, an RPG launcher aimed directly at his vehicle.
"Shit!" Matthew swerved, narrowly dodging an explosion that rocked the track behind him. But it wasn't just one attacker—a group of mercenaries, all knowing that he had taken down nearly half the competitors, began focusing their fire on him. Bullets rained down, forcing Matthew to push his car to its limits.
But it wasn't enough. The next RPG was already fired.
And then—Logan appeared.
Without hesitation, Logan swerved his Lancer Evolution X between Matthew and the incoming rocket, the explosion blasting against his forcefield as he shielded his teammate.
"Logan, what the hell are you doing?!" Matthew yelled over the radio.
"Winning." Logan's voice was calm despite the chaos. "Now go!"
Matthew gritted his teeth, knowing that arguing now would mean death. He pressed the gas pedal to its limit, his Charger barely holding together as it tore toward the finish line.
---
With Matthew escaping ahead, Logan focused on the mercenaries surrounding him. He pulled out his SVD, firing precise shots through the windows of two approaching vehicles, sending them crashing into a fireball.
Tires screeched behind him.
A mercenary jumped from a nearby truck, landing on Logan's hood and planting a C4 explosive before jumping off. Logan's eyes widened.
"Shit."
He barely had time to react before William's G-Wagon tore onto the scene, heavy-duty rounds slamming into Logan's attackers.
"I got your back!" William shouted, taking out another two competitors.
But then—Darius Cross appeared.
William turned just in time to see Darius's Rezvani Tank pull up, the barrel of its heavy machine gun aimed directly at him.
"Not today," Darius growled, opening fire.
William was forced to dodge, unable to assist Logan as he exchanged gunfire with Darius. Logan, meanwhile, had one priority—getting the C4 off his vehicle.
He kicked the door open, moving fast. His forcefield flashed around him, absorbing another burst of gunfire. The mercenary who planted the bomb smirked from a distance, holding the detonator in his hands.
He pressed the button.
BOOM!
---
Matthew crossed the finish line first, but the moment of victory was overshadowed by what happened next.
A massive explosion erupted behind him.
Logan's Lancer Evolution X was engulfed in flames, the fireball reaching the sky as metal debris scattered across the track.
The VIP section went dead silent.
Salvador's grip tightened on his drink, his face unreadable. Logan's father stood frozen, his world shattering in an instant. Elsa, who had been watching from above, felt her breath catch in her throat.
In the military base, Captain Carter and his team watched in horror on the illegal stream.
On the track, Matthew immediately tried to turn back, his heart pounding.
"LOGAN!" He tried to jump out of his car, but William grabbed him, holding him back.
"Let me go! He's still in there!"
"Matthew, wait!" William yelled, holding him with every ounce of his Titan strength.
The fire raged on.
Nobody moved. Nobody spoke.
For a moment, everyone truly believed Logan Holt was dead.
Then—a figure emerged from the fire.
---
Logan stepped out of the flames, smoke swirling around him.
His forcefield flickered and cracked, the last remnants of its energy dissolving as he collapsed onto one knee. Midnight, his steppe eagle, perched on his shoulder, its wings slightly singed but unharmed.
His body was battered. Blood seeped through the fabric of his outfit, and his ribs were definitely broken, but he was alive.
The entire arena fell into stunned silence.
One of the mercenary competitors dropped his weapon, muttering in disbelief, "He survived that?"
The remaining racers who had mocked him before now stared with respect, knowing that this was no ordinary competitor.
Even Salvador's cold expression cracked, a smirk forming as he took a sip of his drink.
Then—Elsa moved first.
She rushed down from the VIP section, pushing past stunned security, reaching him just as he fully collapsed forward. She caught him, her arms wrapping around his injured frame.
"You reckless bastard." Her voice was both relieved and furious.
Logan smirked, his strength fading, but he still managed to whisper:
"Told you I wouldn't die."
She shook her head, holding onto him tighter as medics rushed onto the scene.
The crowd erupted into cheers.
And just like that, Logan Holt became a legend in the Death Race
As Logan lay in Elsa's arms, battered but alive, the silence of the death race arena shattered.
It started as a murmur.
Then it grew louder.
"GREY!"
One voice. Then ten. Then a hundred.
"GREY! GREY! GREY!"
The entire arena erupted, thousands of voices chanting in unison. Even those who had come to watch the race purely for the bloodshed couldn't deny what they had just witnessed—Logan Holt had defied death itself.
His name echoed through the stadium, bouncing off the metal structures and towering LED screens.
---
Up in the VIP section, Salvador took a slow sip of his drink, a smirk forming. He turned to Logan's father, George Holt, whose expression had shifted from shock to something far more dangerous—pride and cold determination.
Salvador chuckled. "Your boy's making history."
George exhaled deeply, adjusting his tie. "He always was meant for more than just being a triggerman."
Next to them, Jessica's father watched with interest, rubbing his chin. He had already respected Logan for his work ethic, but this? This was something else entirely.
---
Meanwhile, across the world, in a secure military base, Captain Carter and his team had been watching the illegal stream of the race.
One of his subordinates whistled. "Damn. That kid's built different."
Carter leaned forward, his sharp gaze locked on the footage of Logan standing in the flames before collapsing. His grip tightened around his glass.
"He's got the instincts of a soldier… and the heart of a survivor."
He shifted his attention to his own son, Matthew, who had just won the race. The captain had always been proud of Matthew's brilliance, but tonight… he saw something else. Loyalty. A willingness to die for his friends.
He exhaled slowly. "These kids are going to change the damn world."
---
Back on the track, Logan tried to push himself up, wincing at the pain in his ribs. Elsa held him firmly, her hands shaking slightly from adrenaline.
"Stay down, idiot." She glared at him, her blue eyes fierce. "You nearly got yourself killed."
Logan smirked weakly. "Not the first time."
William and Matthew finally pushed through the crowd, their faces filled with relief and frustration.
"You reckless bastard!" Matthew barked, crouching next to him. "You stole my damn win moment with your hero complex!"
Logan chuckled, coughing a little. "Yeah? You're welcome."
William crossed his arms, smirking. "It's official. You're the dumbest genius I know."
Jessica arrived just behind them, grinning. "You do realize they're already selling bootleg merch with your nickname, right?"
She pointed at the audience, where vendors were already pulling out 'GREY' T-shirts and masks, some even repainting old merch to match Logan's signature gray aesthetic.
Logan rolled his eyes, but the sight made him chuckle.
---
As the medics finally reached Logan, another figure approached—Darius Cross.
His black Rezvani Tank was parked in the background, its heavy armor barely scratched. He had taken some damage in the race, but nothing compared to what Logan had endured.
He looked down at Logan, then nodded in approval.
"You've got guts, kid."
Logan met his gaze. "I've got more than that."
Darius smirked. "I know. That's why we'll meet again." Without another word, he turned and walked off, his presence commanding respect even among the mercenaries.
---
As Logan was finally loaded onto a stretcher, Elsa never left his side, her fingers interlocked with his.
The arena kept chanting his name.
"GREY! GREY! GREY!"
Even though he had finished second, he had won something far greater than money or a title—he had earned respect, fear, and recognition.
The legend of Grey had only just begun
The roar of the crowd still echoed through the arena as Logan was carried off the track, Elsa clutching his hand tightly while medics rushed him toward the underground infirmary. His ribs screamed in pain, and every breath felt like knives stabbing into his chest, but he still managed a cocky smirk.
Matthew, William, and Jessica followed closely behind, pushing through throngs of onlookers still chanting Logan's name—"GREY! GREY! GREY!"
As they entered the dimly lit medical wing, Matthew finally snapped.
"You reckless dumbass!" he barked, stepping in front of the stretcher, his face a mix of frustration and relief. "You just HAD to take an RPG for me, huh?"
Logan chuckled, coughing slightly. "You're welcome."
William shook his head. "At this point, you might as well start charging people for near-death experiences."
Jessica leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "I'd pay for front-row seats."
Elsa shot them all a glare. "Enough. He needs rest, not your terrible sense of humor."
Logan smirked at her. "You love my humor."
She sighed, squeezing his hand tighter. "I love you, idiot."
His smirk faltered for just a second before returning. "I know."
---
Meanwhile, back in the VIP section, Salvador watched the medical screens tracking Logan's vitals. His expression was unreadable, but a small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
George Holt sat beside him, his posture rigid but composed, though his fingers tapped against his knee—a telltale sign of his internal turmoil.
Jessica's father leaned forward, arms on his knees. "Your son is something else, Holt."
George exhaled, nodding slightly. "He's always been a survivor."
Salvador chuckled, swirling his glass of whiskey. "A survivor? No." He turned to face George, his dark eyes gleaming with intrigue. "He's a conqueror."
George remained silent, his jaw tightening slightly.
Salvador's smirk widened. "Don't get in his way."
---
At the same time, in a secured military compound, Captain Carter and his elite squad were still watching the underground feed of the death race.
One of the soldiers shook his head. "That Logan kid is insane."
Another laughed. "No, he's a legend in the making."
Captain Carter, however, wasn't smiling. He leaned forward, watching as Logan was wheeled into the med bay, Elsa never leaving his side.
He turned to his men. "Run a deep background check on Salvador and his organization." His voice was calm, but his soldiers knew better—when Carter gave an order like that, it meant something was coming.
"Sir?" one of them asked.
Carter narrowed his eyes. "Logan Holt is going to shake the underworld. I need to know where he'll land when the dust settles."
---
Back in the underground infirmary, Logan was patched up, bandaged ribs wrapped tightly as he sat on the medical bed. He refused to lie down, despite Elsa's protests.
Just then, the door swung open, and Darius Cross stepped inside.
The room fell silent.
Matthew raised an eyebrow. "What do you want, Darius?"
Darius ignored him, stepping directly to Logan. He studied him for a moment before extending a handshake.
"Respect where it's due, Grey. You earned it."
Logan met his gaze, then gripped his hand firmly.
Darius smirked. "Next time, don't almost die. It's bad for business."
Logan chuckled. "No promises."
As Darius turned to leave, he paused at the doorway. "If you ever need a solid ally, look me up. You don't belong under Salvador. You belong above him."
With that, he walked out, leaving the room in heavy silence.
Matthew let out a low whistle. "So… we making friends or enemies with that guy?"
Logan exhaled. "Both."
Elsa shook her head, muttering under her breath, "I swear, you're a magnet for trouble."
Logan smirked, despite the pain. "And you love it."
She rolled her eyes but didn't argue.
---
The Beginning of Something Bigger
As Logan sat there, feeling the weight of the moment, he realized something.
This wasn't just a race.
This wasn't just about surviving another fight.
This was the moment his name had truly entered the underworld.
The legend of Grey had been carved into history.
And it was only the beginning.