DRIVER 88 (The Death Race Saga).

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1. The Bloodstained Arena

The stadium burned with chaos. Smoke, fire, and the deafening roar of engines blended into a symphony of destruction. Jaxon weaved between twisted wrecks and bodies flung like ragdolls. The Wild Card Event was living up to its reputation.

Gunfire cracked through the air. A biker gang from Cellblock C had rigged their motorcycles with makeshift flamethrowers, setting anything in their path ablaze. An armored bus, stolen from the warden's private collection, bulldozed through racers with reckless abandon. The whole event had descended into a war zone.

Jaxon, gripping the wheel of his battered but still-functional Charger, felt his pulse quicken. His tires screeched as he made a sharp turn, dodging a car that flipped end-over-end, bursting into flames. His mind wasn't just on survival anymore—he had a bigger prize in sight.

Viper.

Jaxon knew that Viper was watching. Somewhere in this wreckage, the man was plotting his next move. But Jaxon wasn't the same desperate prisoner who had been thrown into this madness weeks ago. No, he had become something else.

A legend.

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2. The Shadow That Watches

High above the carnage, Viper stood on a steel observation platform, arms crossed over his broad chest. His calculating gaze followed Jaxon's movements with predatory focus.

"He's good," a voice beside him muttered.

Viper turned his head slightly. It was Bishop, one of the Warden's personal enforcers. A man who had won his own death races years ago and had the scars to prove it.

"He's more than good," Viper corrected. "He's adapting."

Bishop studied Jaxon's maneuvers, the way he controlled his car like an extension of himself. Most racers only reacted to threats. Jaxon anticipated them.

"You worried?" Bishop asked with a smirk.

Viper's jaw tightened. He wasn't worried. But he wasn't foolish, either. Jaxon wasn't just another desperate inmate looking for freedom—he was a man with nothing left to lose.

And men like that were the most dangerous kind.

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3. The Warden's Offer

In the warden's private office, a high-tech surveillance feed projected the carnage in real-time. The Warden leaned back in his leather chair, swirling a glass of whiskey as he watched the chaos unfold.

The door opened, and a figure stepped in.

It was Wraith.

A former champion of the Death Races. The only man who had ever won five consecutive events and lived to tell the tale.

"You called for me?" Wraith's voice was like gravel, low and deliberate.

The Warden smirked. "Jaxon Cole. He's getting too good."

Wraith arched a brow. "And?"

"I want him gone."

A slow grin spread across Wraith's scarred face. "Consider it done."

The Warden leaned forward. "Not just yet. Let's make it interesting. Announce a new event. Something brutal. Something legendary."

Wraith chuckled darkly. "You want to break him."

The Warden's eyes gleamed. "No, Wraith. I want to see if he can survive."

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4. The Kill Order

Back on the track, Jaxon swerved to avoid a cluster of landmines disguised as debris. His instincts were razor-sharp now. Every movement calculated. Every breath measured.

Then, his radio crackled to life.

"New event just got announced," a voice said. It was Nyla. She had hacked into the comms again. "They're calling it The Devil's Gambit."

Jaxon gritted his teeth. He didn't like the sound of that.

"It's a team-based event," Nyla continued. "You're going up against a squad of former champions. Viper included."

Jaxon's heart pounded.

So this was the game.

The Warden wanted him dead.

And he had just given Viper the perfect excuse to make it happen.

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5. Viper's Move

Viper stood in the briefing room, surrounded by the deadliest racers the prison had ever produced. Wraith was there. Bishop, too. These were men who had survived hell and come out even worse for it.

The rules of The Devil's Gambit were simple.

Six racers. One objective.

Eliminate Jaxon Cole.

Viper listened as the others discussed strategy, but he wasn't interested in their plans. He had his own.

Because for him, this wasn't just about winning.

This was about vengeance.

Jaxon had embarrassed him. Had made him bleed.

Now, Viper would return the favor.

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6. The Final Countdown

The next morning, the yard was electric with tension. The inmates gathered to watch as the chosen racers lined up at the starting grid.

Jaxon sat in his car, gripping the wheel. He could feel the weight of the prison's gaze on him.

Then, across the track, he locked eyes with Viper.

No words were exchanged.

None were needed.

This wasn't just another race.

This was war.

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End of Chapter 26.