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Certain of his lead, Alex cast a quick glance over his shoulder, convinced that Brenna and the male competitor had lagged at least twenty meters behind. With three laps still to go, he was sure they had no chance of catching up.
Grinning smugly, he lifted his hand once more, flipping Brenna and the man off without even bothering to look. But as he rode a little farther, curiosity got the better of him, and he glanced back again-only for his smirk to vanish instantly. Brenna was closing in.
Panic jolted through him. He had been watching her closely and hadn’t seen her use her whip once. How was she closing in so fast? Sensing he was losing his lead, he dropped the theatrics and whipped his horse again, desperate to widen the gap between him and Brenna.
Brenna, meanwhile, had pulled ahead of the male competitor beside her, now only eight meters from Alex. Seeing this, Alex was frustrated.
Damn it!
Why couldn’t he shake her off?
Brenna’s pace remained steady, completely unhurried, as if she had barely begun racing.
By the fourth lap, the field had stretched out, the weaker competitors fading into the background. Alex still held the lead and had even lapped the last rider.
Just then, Brenna’s eyes sharpened with icy resolve. For the first time in the race, she lifted her whip and gave a single, decisive strike. Her horse, responding instantly, surged forward with unrestrained power. Its hooves thundered against the track, kicking up dust, shrinking the distance between her and Alex at an alarming rate.
Brenna leaned into the motion, flattening herself against her horse’s back, synchronizing her rhythm with its strides, moving as one.
The male competitor behind her did the same, whipping his horse and adjusting his posture. Fueled by the pain of the whip, his horse also picked up speed.
The wind roared in Brenna’s ears. Within half a lap, she had reached Alex’s side, matching his pace. Then, as if savoring the moment, she turned her head toward him and smirked. With one swift motion, she flipped him off.
With another sharp crack of her whip, Brenna urged her horse forward once more, and within seconds, she surged past Alex, widening the gap by over two meters.
Alex’s face twisted in rage. His grip tightened around the reins. Then, he pressed a hidden button on his ring. A half-inch spike slid out. He stabbed it into his horse’s back.
Blood seeped through the horse’s white coat, a glaring red streak staining its mane.
The agonized horse, startled by the sudden pain, lunged forward toward the finish line.
But Brenna’s horse was no ordinary steed. No matter how much Alex whipped his, it refused to maintain the pace. Instead of accelerating, it started to slow down.
Behind Alex, the male competitor seized his chance and surged forward, overtaking Alex effortlessly.
Without hesitation, he flipped Alex off as he sped ahead.
Alex’s panic skyrocketed. He couldn’t even get second place now. He pounded his fists against his horse’s back, demanding more speed. More blood spilled down the horse’s flanks, the trails starkly visible. Without warning, the horse veered sideways, kicking out violently with its hind legs and throwing Alex off.
The horse, as if exacting revenge, raised its front hooves and then brought them crashing down-aimed directly at Alex’s chest.
Alex’s face drained of color. Terrified, he scrambled to roll away. But he wasn’t fast enough to avoid the hit completely, and one of the horse’s hooves came down on his right leg.
“Ah!” he screamed in pain, his face contorted in agony. Sweat beaded on his forehead as pain rendered him motionless.
His right leg was broken by the hit.
From the stands, the crowd erupted into cheers.
Brenna crossed the finish line, her victory indisputable.
The white horse seemed dissatisfied with a single act of retribution. After stomping on Alex once, it reared up again, hooves suspended in the air before crashing down with brutal force-this time, directly onto Alex’s pelvis.
A stunned silence settled over the arena. Every spectator held their breath, eyes locked on Alex, almost rooting for the horse to dole out further punishment.
Though no one could say for sure what had provoked the horse’s sudden aggression, few were inclined to feel sorry for Alex.
Given where the hooves had landed, it was safe to assume Alex wouldn’t be competing for at least two years-possibly never again if his injury was severe enough.
The crowd was pleased with that.
“Ah!” Alex’s scream ripped through the air, a sharp, guttural cry of pain. His legs, his abdomen-every inch of his lower body felt as though it had been shattered beneath the crushing weight. Yet, rather than sympathy, the audience erupted in loud cheers. Event staff and medics rushed toward Alex. Some worked to restrain the still-agitated horse, while others tended to him.
Meanwhile, the man who had won second place approached the referee, his expression grim. He gestured toward Alex’s right middle finger and mimicked his earlier act of hitting the horse.
The referee didn’t hesitate and declared, “Alex Espinoza is disqualified for using cruel and underhanded tactics in the race. Due to repeated violations of international competition regulations, along with unsportsmanlike behavior and personal attacks, he is permanently banned from entering this country!”
“Congratulations!” As Ethan approached Brenna, his eyes landed on her, still wearing her sleek riding gear. The confidence radiating from her made her the most captivating presence in the arena.
Rosie trailed after him, her jealousy barely concealed. She glanced at Alex, now being carried away, and her expression darkened. She thought Alex was so useless; he couldn’t even defeat someone like Brenna.
She had placed her bets on him winning, yet he had failed miserably.
Wearing a cold expression, she strode toward Brenna, convinced that Brenna’s victory was nothing more than sheer luck. In her mind, Brenna had only won because she had
She spoke with a faint smile. To those a bit farther away, it might have looked like she was offering congratulations.
“What’s there to be so happy about? It’s just a local horse race, not some world championship. You’re acting like it’s the greatest accomplishment of your life, Brenna. Honestly, it’s embarrassing.”
Brenna met her gaze with calm indifference. “You’re right. Compared to my other awards, this one doesn’t really count for much. Horse riding is just a hobby for me, and I can win some prize money along the way.”
“You!” Rosie seethed, her face twisting with anger.
She had trained tirelessly for over a month, pouring effort into the race, only to fail before even reaching the finals.
Yet, Brenna had made it sound like it was so easy to win. What kind of ridiculous statement was that?