Eight Days Until the Cross of Vengeance is Found.

  The roar of an engine shattered the morning silence of the schoolyard. A motorcycle, bck as a raven's wing, slowed down smoothly, and its rider, expertly pcing a foot on the asphalt, killed the engine.

  As if on cue, the students turned to look—some with admiration, others with envy, and a few with a touch of fear.

  Johnny Bze was used to the awed stares, but deep inside, he despised the spectacle.

  To them, he was perfect. Fwless. The golden boy seemingly destined for success: captain of the boxing team, straight-A student, leader of the disciplinary committee. Friendly, cold-blooded, collected. A future military doctor. Even his appearance—tall frame, confident posture, piercing gaze—only reinforced that image. A guy without weaknesses.

  But in reality…

  Johnny smirked faintly as he took off his helmet. They weren’t seeing a person—they were seeing a carefully crafted image.

  He hadn’t spent a decade training just to show off in front of high schoolers. He was preparing for war. That didn’t require trophies or medals. Johnny would have gdly trained in secret, avoiding unnecessary attention, but he was Barton Bze’s son.

  His father was the city’s hero. People loved him for his stunts and spectacur arrests. Johnny was proud of him too… but sometimes, living in his shadow felt harder than working under the scorching sun.

  The city was obsessed with his father’s constant motorcycle tricks. His YouTube videos racked up millions of views, and after the story about saving the UN chairman, Hollywood wanted to make a movie about him. Most likely, Barton would py himself.

  That kind of fame didn’t surprise Johnny—his father had always been knee-deep in show business.

  "Yo, Johnny!" A group of students with a smartphone snapped him out of his thoughts. "Check this out!"

  Johnny watched the fresh video on his father’s channel with a stone-cold expression. He’d already seen it ten times. In the clip, Barton weaved through traffic on his bike before stopping a purse snatcher.

  Spectacur and cool, just like the comments said.

  His father had a knack for being in the right pce at the right time. And while Johnny never doubted Barton’s skills on a motorcycle, his conveniently timed appearances were… suspicious. No doubt his mom’s magic was involved.

  "Can you do that?" One of the students gnced from Johnny to his motorcycle.

  Johnny barely suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Even his sleek bck bike was something he bought just because people expected the son of Barton Bze to ride one.

  He wanted to yell at these idiots. Who the hell would start drifting in a schoolyard? Instead, he forced himself to stay calm.

  "My bike’s not for stunts," he expined as politely as possible.

  "Oh, come on, you’re a Bze! At least do a p!"

  Johnny clenched his jaw. They really thought he was obligated to be like his father.

  "If you want stunts, watch YouTube," he nodded at the screen. "I’m heading inside."

  The students weren’t offended. Too bad. They followed him to the main building, bombarding him with more questions about his dad.

  Things had only gotten worse since high school started. Someone in the mayor’s office had mentioned that Barton was being considered for police commissioner. It would boost the department’s reputation, increase public trust, and all that political talk.

  Well, if an actor could be the president of the United States, a stuntman could become commissioner.

  The problem was that the family of a future commissioner was always under scrutiny. Any misstep from Johnny would instantly stain his father’s reputation.

  Every movement, every answer in css, every victory in the ring—it was all part of a carefully maintained image. He couldn’t afford to be anything else. He couldn’t let Barton down. He couldn’t be the reason the headlines read:

  "Son of Future Police Commissioner Caught in Schoolyard Brawl."

  No. He couldn’t let that happen.

  So, he became the golden boy—though he never truly saw himself that way.

  ///

  Johnny was in the school gym, warming up before css. A nasty burning sensation spread through his bones, as if they had been set on fire from the inside.

  A wretched pain, incomparable to anything else. Only someone carrying the Ghost Rider's curse could understand it.

  Over the years, he had learned to ignore the pain by throwing himself into something completely. Physical exercise, for example. Johnny kept doing pull-ups on the bar until the pain subsided.

  [The fire is rising,] he thought. [Any day now, I need to let it out if I don’t want to burn alive.]

  “Hey, Johnny!” A bright voice rang out, cutting through the noise of the gym.

  He tensed internally but remained outwardly calm.

  “Hey, Roxy.”

  She walked closer, her golden ponytails bouncing in rhythm with her cheerleading uniform. Her eyes sparkled as always, and a warm smile pyed on her lips.

  Roxanne Simpson, or just Roxy to her friends.

  She was the daughter of Craig Simpson—a stuntman, Naomi and Bart’s mentor, and the man who, in the grim canon, was supposed to adopt Johnny and ter die of cancer.

  Johnny had changed the script.

  He had been eight at the time. After stumbling upon an oncology textbook in the library, he connected the symptoms and, ignoring the adults’ ughter, insisted that Uncle Craig get checked. The diagnosis was confirmed, but the tumor was still operable. Craig was saved.

  That was the good news.

  The bad news: after that incident, his mom became obsessed with the idea that Johnny should become a doctor. His dad, seeing his son’s talent in martial arts, added that he should definitely be a military doctor.

  Johnny had no intention of becoming either a soldier or, even worse, a doctor. But he was too tired to argue with his parents.

  Roxy, thanks to the close friendship between their families, learned about his “lifelong dream” and spread it all over school. Now even the teachers praised Johnny for his career choice.

  Honestly, Roxy was a good person. Aside from that little “dream” incident, Johnny had nothing but good memories with her. She had been at all his birthdays, just as he had been at hers. Their shared summer at a kids’ camp was one of his fondest childhood memories.

  Roxy was his best—and only—friend. And she wouldn’t mind making it something more.

  That was a problem, but not in the way most people would think.

  She was beautiful—she had even modeled for a magazine once. Athletic—she had earned her position as the cheerleading captain through honest hard work at the gym. And, most importantly, she was fun to be around.

  Johnny would have liked to return her feelings, but his parents…

  A year ago, Craig and Barton decided that their kids should get married—immediately. Craig was getting old, had started a family te, and was afraid he wouldn’t live to see grandchildren. Barton wanted to repay the mentor who had taught him everything he knew.

  If Johnny asked Roxy out just once, their parents would arrange an engagement. This wouldn’t be like summer camp—no kissing without commitments.

  Johnny wasn’t ready for Craig and Barton’s high expectations just yet.

  Surprisingly, his mom took Johnny’s side. She agreed that he needed to focus on his studies right now, not on marriage and kids. God bless her.

  Barton and Craig backed off for now, but Roxy hadn’t. Every day, she tried to push their friendship into something more. Pretending to be a bookworm was getting harder.

  “How about saving me from total failure?” she asked, tilting her head.

  “With what exactly?” He already knew the answer but asked anyway.

  “Biology! More specifically, anatomy.” She took a step forward, closing the distance. “We could study together after css, or I’m totally failing this test.”

  “We’ll do our homework together,” he said with a slight smile. “Like when we were kids.”

  “Exactly!” She jumped excitedly. “We’ll grab some soda and chips and build a pillow fort! I’m dropping by tonight!”

  Johnny felt the fire crackling in his bones. Years of training allowed him to keep his face straight. It was a painful sign that he wasn’t in the right condition to have guests today.

  "Not today. Let’s do it on the weekend instead," Johnny tried to keep his voice steady. "I’m busy these days."

  "What, not even a little time for me?" She crossed her arms. "Let me guess: training to be an astronaut? Or maybe a ninja? What are you so busy with?"

  "Training," he answered calmly, then grabbed the pull-up bar without hurry.

  It was rude, but there was no other choice. The fire had already begun burning at the back of his skull. He needed a distraction—Roxy’s chatter wasn’t helping.

  She gave him a strange look, turned around, and ran off to her friends without saying goodbye.

  Johnny continued his sets in silence until the fire in his bones finally died down.

  [Another reason why I can’t afford a serious retionship right now. If I don’t get this curse under control, I could burn Roxy alive.]