The Empty Girl
Remi’s POV
The engine on car number nine was dying, and nobody in the garage cared except me.
I lay on my back under the car with grease on my hands and a wrench in my mouth, listening to the sound it made when Benny turned the key. It coughed twice and then gave up. I knew that sound. It meant the fuel line was cracked again, and it meant somebody had been too lazy to fix it properly the last time.
“Carter,” Benny called from the driver’s seat. “Is it dead or not?”
I pulled the wrench out of my mouth. “It’s not dead. It’s just sick. Give me ten minutes and it will run better than it did yesterday.”
“You said that last week.”
“And last week it won the qualifier,” I said. “So stop complaining and let me work.”
He laughed, and I went back to the engine. This was the only place in the world where I felt like I belonged. Under a car, nobody could look at me the way they did everywhere else.
I was twenty-three years old, and I was the only grown member of the Silver Crescent Pack who had never shifted. I had no wolf, no claws, and no howl on the full moon. My wolf should have come when I turned sixteen, but she never did. On top of that, I was born without a sense of smell. In a world full of werewolves who could smell fear, lies, and mates from across a room, I couldn’t even smell smoke.
People had a name for girls like me. They called us empty.
My father had been the best mechanic on the Alpha Racing Circuit before he died, and the team kept me on because of him. Everyone knew that. They let me fix the cars, but nobody would ever let me drive one, because racing was for real wolves.
I tightened the last bolt and slid out from under the car. “Try it now.”
Benny turned the key. The engine roared to life, loud and strong, and a few of the guys in the garage clapped.
“Okay, okay,” Benny said, grinning at me. “You win, Carter.”
“I always win,” I told him, wiping my hands on my jeans. “I just never get a trophy for it.”
Before he could answer, the garage doors slammed open so hard that everyone jumped.
Ryder Knox walked in like he owned the place, which, to be fair, his family did. He was the Alpha heir of the Blackfang Pack, the fastest driver on the circuit, and the biggest scandal in werewolf racing. He had won three championships in four years. He had also crashed two cars, punched a sponsor, and been photographed with more women than I could count.
Tonight his shirt was torn at the collar, his lip was split, and there was lipstick on his neck.
“Where the hell is my car?” he asked the room.
Nobody answered. Everyone suddenly found something very interesting to look at on the floor.
“Your car is in pieces,” I said, because somebody had to. “You drove it into a damn wall on Friday.”
He turned and looked at me for the first time. His eyes were dark gold, the eyes of an Alpha, and most people in the garage dropped their heads when he looked at them like that. I didn’t. My wolf had never come, so his Alpha power had nothing to grab onto inside me.
“And who are you?” he asked.
“The person putting your car back together,” I said. “Remi Carter.”
Something changed in his face when I said my name. “Carter. You’re the old man’s daughter. The one without a wolf.”
“Wow,” I said. “You must be a genius.”
A few of the guys made choking sounds. Benny looked like he wanted to disappear under car number nine.
Ryder didn’t get angry. He just smiled, slow and lazy, like none of this mattered to him at all. That was the thing everyone said about Ryder Knox. Nothing mattered to him, not winning, not losing, not the women, and not the rules.
“How long until my car is ready?” he asked.
“Two days if you leave me alone,” I said. “A week if you keep standing there.”
He laughed, and then his phone buzzed. He looked at the screen, and for one second the smile slipped off his face.
“Everybody out,” he said. “Except her.”
The garage emptied in less than a minute. Benny gave me a look that said good luck, and then the door closed behind him, and I was alone with the most dangerous driver in the world.
“If you’re going to yell at me about the car,” I said, “I already told you it was your fault.”
“I’m not here about the car.” He held up his phone so I could see it. It was an email from the Racing Council, and I only had time to read the first line before he pulled it back. It said FINAL WARNING in big letters.
“They’re going to ban me,” Ryder said. He said it like he was talking about the weather. “One more scandal, and I’m off the circuit for a full season. My father says the only way to fix it is to show the Council I’ve changed and that I’ve settled down.”
“So settle down,” I said.
“I’m trying.” He put his phone in his pocket and looked at me in a way that made my stomach turn over. “That’s why I need a mate.”
I stared at him. “Then go find one. You’ve been with half the women in this city. I’m sure one of them would love to be your mate.”
“That’s the problem,” he said. “Every one of them would believe it was real, and it wouldn’t be.” He took a step closer. “I need someone who knows it’s fake. Someone who won’t fall in love with me. Someone who can’t smell a lie, or a bond, or anything at all.”
My face went hot. “So you want me because I’m broken.”
“I want you because you’re useful,” he said. “And I always pay for what I use.”
“I don’t want your money.”
“I know.” His gold eyes held mine. “I’ve heard you talk about racing when you think nobody is listening. You want to drive.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“Be my fake mate for one season,” Ryder Knox said. “Stand next to me in front of the cameras, smile for the Council, and make them believe I’ve found the one. And when the season is over, I’ll give you a seat in a real race car.”
