Status Updates From Twisted Trails (Rogue Rider...

Ugh I loved this. Especially the rat photos before each chapter. Lovely touch. Alright so contemporary isn’t really my thing. But this was incredibly well done. U can feel the character growth from here and Alaina’s journey to wellness was incredibly well done. 4.5 stars rounded down because the middle was dragging a bit.

“Kick their asses,” he whispers, and then he kisses me so soft and certain that everything stills. Well, until⁠—
“Hey!” Luc calls out, feigning outrage. “I heard that!”
Mason snorts. “Yeah, Greer. Way to stay professional. Very motivational. Inspiring for all your athletes. You’re so not playing favorites.”

After the Great Rat Surprise of the season, we made sure they were all fixed. Spayed. Neutered. Whatever the official term is for making sure Luc never accidentally starts a rodent dynasty again.
And that honestly feels like the most responsible thing this team has ever done.
Finn grins at my laughter before he brushes his nose against mine, and the weight of everything suddenly goes quiet.

Right now, his is with Jim, who’s not only obsessed with his own little guy, but also with everyone’s. He even built them a full-on rat palace in the new team bus, complete with hammocks, tunnels, and a damn miniature ramp system.
It’s excessive but also kind of amazing.

Mine is named Phoenix, a little white and dark brown fluffball who’s currently curled into the crook of Finn’s neck, nestled right up against Quebec, his all-white rat with a superiority complex. Their mom and dad are sleeping beside them, as if Finn is just another spot for a race-day nap.
And they’re not the only ones.

Luc was very sure Bristol was a boy when he bought him for Mason’s birthday.
Spoiler alert—she is not.
Honestly, it’s on brand. I mean, this is the same man who thought I was a guy for the better part of a season.
Thanks to that little misjudgment, we’ve got rats everywhere. Everyone has one now. It’s like a plague but adorable.

He’s trying to look all confident, calm, and devastatingly hot, and it would be working, except a tiny pink nose twitches beside his ear, followed by a second, and a third, and then a fourth.
I bite my lip, hard, to keep the laugh down, because while Finn is being all heroic and steady, his hoodie is doing its best to strangle him under the combined weight of four tiny rats.

Any woman who consistently qualifies within the top three men’s elite time range can start with the men.”
Luc reaches up to hold my upper arms. “That’s no one but her.”

The guy shrugs. “Exactly.”
I turn to look at the men behind me, one by one. “Did you do that?”
“I’d love to say yes, but it was all Otis,” Mason says, clearing his throat.

My ears ring so loudly that everybody around me must hear it too. “I… what?”

“Yeah,” the younger one mutters. “That’s exactly how I reacted.”
The older one ignores him. “We’ve had internal discussions. Even if that’s what the whole male field advocates for, we can’t make a one-time exception just for you, so we’ve created a new rule.

The guy sighs. “There was a petition, signed by the entire men’s elite field.”
My stomach flips. “Okay.”
“They’re refusing to start next season if you’re not allowed to race.”
Holy shit?
“Wait. You mean, I can go back to the women’s division?”
“No,” the older official says. “They’re asking for you to stay in men’s elite.”

Finn groans. “Can we please act like adults and at least get some breakfast in you before we start beating each other up?”
Mason strolls in with Bristol perched on his shoulder. Luc gave him the rat for his birthday, and he’s just as cute as Toulouse, though not nearly as sleepy. I simply pretend that the fact that his tail is even more naked doesn’t bother me.

“Sure.” I tip my head, pulse buzzing, and lean in just a little. “Remember how I won Leogang this season? How I was faster than every man who’s ever raced that course?”
Luc barks a laugh. “Pretty unforgettable.”
“Legendary,” Mason adds from beside him.
“Cool.” I smirk. “Just wanted you all to know I did that on my period. Day one.”

“We go back to how things were before, to what people loved about us.” Luc levels him with a look, eyes gleaming. “The rivalry’s back, Pretty Boy. Raine’s out. Greer’s out. Alaina’s out. It’s just you and me.”
Holy shit.
He’s right.
It is just them now. They’re the last two standing in the race for the overall.
“That’s an amazing idea,” Dane mutters.
“Fucking brilliant,” Otis echoes.

Luc throws his arms out like it’s obvious. “Believe me, if I’m good at something, aside from looking like sex in compression pants, it’s media. Perception, building a legend.” He grins widely. “Now’s the time to rebrand and reshape the image. To put Mase’s reputation back together.”
Mason’s hand tightens around mine. “And how exactly do you want to do that?”

His lip splits with a wet crack, blood blooming as fast as the pain in my knuckles.
Fuck, that hurts.
Raine stumbles back a step, crashing into Isla, who shrieks like this was somehow her trauma. He wipes at his mouth, his eyes wide and stunned like he can’t believe someone actually dared shut him up with something as primitive as consequences.
Then his eyes darken, and something savage flickers there.
Shit.

Luc barrels toward him with the kind of anger that gets people arrested, so I throw my arm out, catching him hard in the chest.
“Back.”
Isaac smirks, but then I pull my fist back before I punch him square in the fucking mouth.
No grace. None of the form Mason tried so hard to teach me. Just bone, rage, and seven years of fury.

“Nothing.” He crouches and leans down to inspect the berm we’re standing next to.
I squint. “You never look at lines, what the hell are you—” My mouth stops working. “Wait. Are you mad at me?”
“No,” he says flatly.
“So you don’t want the team to happen after all?”
“I never said that,” he mutters, not looking at me.

I blink after him, confused and a little annoyed.
Sir. Why are you leaving me alone with a brooding Frenchman?
He’s our boyfriend. This is a group project.
I turn back to Luc, who is now full-on pouting, stormy expression still locked in place, but with the unmistakable pushed-out lower lip.
“What’s with you?” I ask, folding my arms.

I turn to see that Luc looks like someone just insulted his rat, his baguette, and his mother in one sentence.
Mason clocks the mood shift and clears his throat. “I’m gonna finish the track walk with Greer and the juniors. Might get some local intel. This is his mountain, after all.”
And then he just walks off.