Oops, Wrong Girl to Bully Chapter 20

Angelina's POV

My usually carefree second brother now had an unusually serious expression.

I raised my eyes slightly but said nothing.

"You can't go, your injuries..." Zion looked at Leo with concern.

But Leo interrupted: "I'll be fine after resting a bit. Didn't the doctor say it's just minor injuries? It's nothing serious."

I still said nothing.

Logan, who'd come with me, spoke up instead: "Can't you find someone to race in your place? Would that work?"

Usually pretty useless, but at critical moments Logan could actually give decent suggestions. He looked at me with a bit of smugness.

I still didn't speak.

But Zion shook his head: "We can't find anyone."

"Then there's no way..." Logan could only sigh after hearing this.

Just as several people were at an impasse, no one speaking, no one with a solution—

I finally looked up and spoke:

"I'll go."

Two words. Decisive, crisp, clear and simple.

Since Leo was injured and couldn't go, and they couldn't find a replacement, then I'd have to do it myself. Racing? For me, this was a piece of cake.

They all looked at me in unison, their expressions changing dramatically.

Zion was scared enough to cry out: "Leo's sister, that's racing! Not toy cars! Are you... sure you're not joking?"

I could understand his reaction. After all, in their eyes, the original "Aria" was timid and weak, incompetent and powerless. For such a timid girl to now suggest replacing Leo in a race was indeed hard to believe.

"Leo's sister, I know you're worried about your brother, but racing isn't something you can just substitute into." Zion patiently lectured me. "Maybe reconsider?"

He even glanced at Leo. "Hey, say something! You can't really let your sister race for you, right? Sure, lots of young people race, but your sister..."

I didn't want to hear him continue. In my previous life, racing had been my greatest hobby. Those so-called champions I'd left in the dust on international racing circuits would probably laugh themselves sick if they heard someone questioning my racing skills.

I cut him off directly: "I'm not asking for your opinions. Just informing you."

I was just notifying them that I'd be replacing Leo in tonight's race, not asking for their opinions.

The three of them froze again upon hearing this.

Especially Zion—he opened his mouth, but ultimately found himself speechless.

But Leo and Logan's reactions weren't as intense as Zion's. Perhaps because they'd already experienced my capabilities.

"Let her go." After a moment of silence, Leo suddenly spoke. "Let my sister replace me in tonight's race."

He raised his head and looked at me. The usually playful him rarely spoke in such a serious tone: "But, sis, I won't allow anything to happen to you. You must protect yourself. Even if you come in last place, it's no big deal. Got it?"

Hearing my brother's words, warmth filled my chest. He truly cared about me, viewing my safety as more important than anything else.

I immediately nodded: "I will."

Of course I wouldn't have any accidents. Not only would I be fine, I'd win the championship for Leo!

Zion had wanted to say more, but in the end said nothing, just shrugged helplessly at Leo.

The Porsche growled softly as I followed Zion's directions toward the outskirts of town, heading into Redstone Pack territory. The sun was sinking low, painting the desert landscape in shades of amber and rust.

"So, uh..." Zion shifted in the passenger seat, clearly uncomfortable. "About tonight's race. It's the third round of the Wildpath Championship—the Badlands Circuit."

I kept my eyes on the road, one hand draped casually over the steering wheel. "Mm-hmm."

"Right. So, Wildpath Championship is basically the biggest racing event for North American werewolf packs. Six races throughout the year, teams from different packs competing for points. End of the season, highest points wins the overall title."

"Got it."

Zion glanced at me, probably wondering if I was actually listening. I was—I just didn't need him to know I'd done my homework on this the moment Leo mentioned it yesterday.

"The Badlands Circuit is... well, it's brutal. The track runs along cliff edges and dried riverbeds. Mix of sandy stretches and hard-packed dirt. Super technical. Super dangerous." He paused. "That's why Leo crashed during practice earlier."

I said nothing, just watched the landscape change as we drove deeper into Redstone territory. The houses grew sparser, replaced by rocky outcrops and scrub brush.

"Redstone Pack is hosting," Zion continued. "They've got a reputation for being... intense. Old-school pack mentality, you know? Very 'strength above all' kind of vibe."

"And?"

"And they invited Tyler 'Apex' Cross as a special competitor." Zion's voice dropped slightly. "He's won the Wildpath Championship three years running. In the North American werewolf racing scene, he's basically unbeatable."

I raised an eyebrow but kept my expression neutral.

"Tyler's been dominating since his early twenties. He's probably mid-thirties now, racing for Thunder Racing Team. Huge sponsors, connections to half the packs on the continent. When Tyler shows up, everyone else is basically competing for second place."

"Sounds impressive," I said flatly.

Zion shot me a look. "Aria, I'm serious. This guy is the real deal. Leo was supposed to race him tonight—it's Leo's first official Wildpath race, representing Meadow Pack. The winner gets half a million dollars. But even Leo knew he probably couldn't beat Tyler. He was hoping for top three, maybe top five if he was lucky."

I made a noncommittal sound.

"No pressure, Aria," Zion said quickly. "Seriously. Nobody expects you to beat Tyler. Hell, nobody expects you to even keep up. Just... finishing the race without wiping out would be a win, okay? Even attempting to challenge him will boost Leo's reputation in the racing scene. That's worth something."

If only you knew, I thought, suppressing a smile.

In my previous life, I'd been "Phantom"—a name whispered with equal parts awe and fear on international racing circuits. I'd left professional champions eating my dust, made grown men question their entire careers. Tyler Cross, three-time regional champion of North America's werewolf racing scene?

In my old world, he wouldn't have even qualified to warm up my tires.

"We're cutting it close," Zion muttered, checking his phone. "Race starts in forty minutes."

I pressed down slightly on the accelerator. The pit area was exactly what I expected—a semi-enclosed space reserved for racers, crew members, and race officials. The smell hit me first: motor oil, burning rubber, welding sparks. Engines roared as teams ran final tests on their vehicles.

I stepped out of the Porsche, my boots crunching on the hard-packed dirt. Zion scrambled out after me, already scanning the area nervously.

"Okay, we need to check in with Big Marc—he's the race director. Then we'll get you briefed on the track layout and—oh shit."

I followed his gaze.