Survival (Yandere Boys X Female Reader)

TWELVE: The Race

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The trumpets blared, slicing through the murmur of the crowd, signaling the start of the race. You could feel the pulse of excitement from the throng of assassins, each poised for victory. Your hand tightened around the reins, and with a deep breath, you urged your horse forward. The ground thundered beneath you as the herd of horses surged like a wave, each assassin a drop in the ocean of ambition and skill.

You were doing great, your horse responding to your every command with the precision of a well-trained partner. The wind whipped through your hair, and for a moment, you felt free—free from the weight of expectations, free from the worries of your friends back in Las Ventas.

"Look at you go!" Felix shouted from somewhere to your left, his voice carrying over the din. "Like a shadow on the wind!"

You couldn't help but smile, even as you kept your focus razor-sharp. The finish line was far from sight, a mere blur on the horizon, but every second brought it closer.

That's when disaster struck.

Out of nowhere, Mitch, a girl whose envy had festered into hatred, made her move. With a calculated jerk of her reins, she sent her horse barreling towards yours. You had only a split second to react, but it wasn't enough. Her horse's shoulder slammed into yours, and the world tilted dangerously.

You fought to maintain control, but Mitch's interference had done its job. Your horse, spooked and confused, stumbled, and you felt yourself being thrown from the saddle. The ground rushed up to meet you, and you hit the dirt with a jarring impact that knocked the breath from your lungs.

As you struggled to rise, you saw your horse, wild-eyed and panicked, galloping away. The race continued around you, a blur of motion and sound, but you were no longer a part of it. You were grounded, quite literally, and the bitter taste of defeat was sharp on your tongue.

"You'll pay for this," you hissed under your breath, knowing Mitch was already far ahead, likely smirking at her handiwork.

But this was not the end. No, this was merely a setback. As you pushed yourself to your feet, your mind was already racing, plotting your next move. The tournament was far from over, and if there was one thing you were good at, it was turning the tables when least expected.

~~~

As you lay there amidst the churned earth, the race a distant echo, you felt a shadow fall over you. It was Raine, the white-haired half of the Ivory twins, his pale locks a stark contrast against the vibrant green of the racecourse. His presence was like a calm amidst the storm, his usually quiet demeanor taking on a comforting quality.

"Are you hurt?" Raine's voice was soft, almost lost in the cacophony of the race, but it was the most soothing sound you could have heard in that moment.

You tried to push yourself up, pride warring with pain. "I'll manage," you said, though your voice lacked its usual conviction.

Raine extended a hand, hesitancy in his eyes. You knew of his introverted nature, and the effort it took for him to reach out to you spoke volumes. You took his hand, and with a gentle strength, he helped you to your feet and then onto his horse.

"You need to finish the race," he said, his gaze lingering on you longer than necessary. "I'll stay here; Raisean will find your horse."