‘...I want to die.’
The sun had barely risen, but Colby was already miles away from Pawston. His feet dragged across the pavement of the empty road, his head hanging low. He hadn’t slept all night. He couldn’t. The weight of what he’d done to Tag crushed him, replaying her devastated face over and over like a cruel loop.
He thought leaving would be easier. It wasn’t.
Colby felt like he deserved this – this seemingly endless stretch of road, this gnawing pit in his chest where his heart used to be. He deserved the sleepless nights, the ache in his legs, the dryness in his throat. But he deserved far worse, didn’t he?
‘...I deserve to die.’
His steps slowed as his thoughts darkened. He wanted the pain to stop. The idea of disappearing, of no longer existing, felt like the only way to atone for the way he’d hurt Tag. The way he’d hurt everyone unfortunate enough to ever love him.
But as much as he wanted an end, he couldn’t stop moving.
What was the point? Whatever spark had kept him going before – the drive to protect, to find some kind of purpose – it had flickered out the moment he’d broken Tag’s heart. Maybe eternal loneliness was a more fitting punishment, he thought.
The sun rose higher, casting long shadows in front of him as he trudged forward. He didn’t know where he was going. It didn’t matter. He had nothing left. No family, no home, no Tag.
Just the road ahead.
And so, he walked.
* * *
Tag lay under the blanket, her tail tucked close. She’d barely eaten, barely moved all day.
She kept replaying the night before in her mind – the way Colby had pushed her away, his words cutting deeper than any wound. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. The Colby she knew wasn’t hurtful at all; he was kind, patient, and had always believed in her every step of the way. So why then had he suddenly turned on her?
He’d trained her, encouraged her, laughed with her. There was just no way those could’ve been all a lie, she thought. And that kiss…
Tag felt heat rise to her face even now, though it quickly faded into a fresh wave of hurt. If he truly didn’t care about her, then why had he kissed her back? No matter how she looked at it, things just weren’t adding up.
Her paw tightened around the tag that hung from her neck. It felt heavier than ever now, as though it carried all the weight of her sadness. She pulled it off and stared at it, the inscription catching the dim light.
"To my #1 racer, forever driven by destiny."
The words mocked her, a fresh emotional wound surging through her chest. She hated how much she’d treasured this stupid thing just yesterday. But now, it was just a reminder of how much he’d hurt her.
Tag sat up, the blanket falling to her lap. She wanted to throw it across the room, to break something, anything.
But instead, she placed it gently on the nightstand. She wanted to hate him, but… she couldn’t. Not when she could still remember the warmth of his arms around her, the way his eyes always softened when he’d looked at her… it couldn’t’ve all been for nothing.
She flopped back down and pulled the covers over her head, silent tears soaking into her pillow. Regardless of her feelings, it didn’t change that Colby had hurt her. She felt like completely giving up. On racing, on love, on everything – it all felt so meaningless now. And yet, somewhere deep down, she knew there must’ve been more to what had happened.
But for now, she was too tired to listen to her heart.
For now, all she could do was hurt.
* * *
Downstairs, a tense silence hung in the air, broken only by the soft clatter of dishes and the occasional rustle of the newspaper. Paw sat at the kitchen table, drumming his fingers against the wood. Grandpaw Mort was by the window, sipping his coffee as he looked for any sign of a certain absent yellow Labrador.
Grandmaw Marge was mixing batter for cookies, her tail stiff with worry. Gilber kept Yip preoccupied with a stuffed toy as he tried to focus on anything other than the heavy mood.
“She hasn’t said a word,” Cheddar Biscuit muttered, breaking the silence. “Not about Colby, or the race tonight, or… anything else. She barely even touched breakfast.”
“Something bad must’ve happened,” Mort said, his voice low and gruff as he took another sip. “That boy doesn’t strike me as the type to just disappear like that.”
“Well, he did, didn’t he?!” Paw snapped, slamming his paw down on the table. “First he shows up out of nowhere, gets Tag all attached, and now… he’s gone.”
Gilber flinched at his dad’s uncharacteristic outburst. “M-maybe… he had a reason? Maybe something came up?” he offered weakly.
“A reason?” Paw growled, narrowing his eyes. “What reason could there possibly be to leave Tag like this, and possibly the most important day of her life?!”
“Yelling isn’t going to help, dear,” said Maw. “But whatever happened, we need to be here for Tag.”
Paw let out a heavy sigh, his anger deflating slightly. “I just don’t get it. He seemed so invested in her. In all of us.”
“Maybe he didn’t wanna get too close,” Mort said, his eyes still looking down the road hopefully. “There was always this… look in his eyes. Some dogs carry their hurt deep inside, and it can make them run from their problems.”
“Well, that’s no excuse,” Paw said, trying to stay calm. “If he had problems, he should’ve come to us for help. Not vanished without a trace and left us to… pick up the pieces.”
“Maybe he didn’t know how to say goodbye,” Marge said softly. “That doesn’t mean we get to hate him for it. I know you’re upset, son, but we just don’t know enough to make assumptions yet.”
“I don’t… hate him,” Paw admitted grudgingly. “But I hate seeing Tag like this.”
Spike spoke up, leaning back in his chair. “Should we… try to talk to her again?”
“No,” Maw said firmly. “I know you mean well, Spike, but she just needs time to herself right now. We can’t push her to talk before she’s ready, all we can do is… let her know we’re here.”
* * *
Scooch was munching on a slice of bacon while his mom read the newspaper and listened to the crackle of her police radio.
“Sergeant Pooch, we have a 10-54 in progress on Highway 94. Need assistance, do you copy?”
“Duty calls,” she sighed, setting the newspaper down and giving Scooch a quick kiss on the forehead before grabbing her keys. “Remember to finish your chores before you leave.”
“I will, Mom,” Scooch said. “Drive slow.”
“Always do,” Smooch replied with a reassuring smile before hurrying out the door.
* * *
Colby tilted his head back, gazing up at the peaceful blue sky. His thoughts, however, were anything but.
‘What’s wrong with me?’
The same question had been looping in his mind on repeat since last night.
Tag was so young, and he had no right to let his feelings for her grow like this. And yet, despite his best efforts, they had. Like weeds in a garden, relentless and impossible to root out.
He gritted his teeth, trying to justify why he had fallen for her despite everything telling him it was wrong. Was it her tenacity? The way she threw herself into every challenge without hesitation? Maybe it was her cuteness, or the way she’d shown him nothing but understanding and patience when he was in his darkest of places.
A voice in his mind whispered excuses, offering cracks in the walls he’d built to keep himself in check. He hadn’t meant for this to happen. He hadn’t pursued her; he hadn’t set out to feel this way. It just… happened.
But intentions didn’t matter, did they? He had let himself get too close, had let Tag fill spaces in his heart that had been empty for so long. He had foolishly let himself believe, even for a moment, that maybe he deserved someone like her. That he deserved happiness at all.
That was the real crime, wasn’t it? Thinking he could be anything more than a broken stray, clinging to the scraps of his past.
And yet… she made the first move, hadn’t she? She’d kissed him first. She wasn’t any average young girl; she was incredibly smart, and mature beyond her years.
But that didn’t make it right, Colby reminded himself. It didn’t make it okay.
But even as he walked on, riddled with shame, that memory wouldn’t leave him. The way her eyes had softened as she leaned in, the tickle of her sweet, warm breath, the way his heart had surged as her lips met his…
‘I shouldn’t love Tag…” he thought bitterly. “I shouldn’t...’
But even as he thought it, he knew it wouldn’t change the truth: he did love Tag. And that truth was one of the heaviest weights he’d ever carried.
“She’ll move on,” he whispered, almost like a prayer. “She’ll forget all about me eventually.”
He wanted to believe it. He pictured a future where Tag was happy and loved. In that vision, he wasn’t there – but that was the whole point, wasn’t it?
Still, the thought of her moving on, her smile lighting up for someone else… it cut deeper than he expected. A selfish part of him whispered that maybe he could have been that person. That he could’ve found happiness with her if he weren’t so messed up, if his past weren’t such a heavy chain around his neck. If only Tag were older.
He shook his head, brushing the thought away.
“I want her to be happy,” he murmured, his voice breaking slightly. “Even if it means I have to be the bad guy.”
* * *
After finishing his chores, Scooch headed to Tag’s house. He let himself in, hearing Maw’s muffled voice coming from the kitchen.
“All we can do is… let her know we’re here.”
After making his way upstairs, Scooch hesitated outside the bedroom door, hearing faint sounds from inside.
He gently pushed the door open and peeked in, the sight hitting him like a gut punch. Tag was curled up under her covers, her back to the door as she wept quietly.
“Colby, why… why’d you have to break my heart?” she mumbled into her pillow.
Scooch froze, his chest tightening. He had wanted this, hadn’t he? But now, seeing her like this, so broken and small, made every selfish thought he’d had feel like poison.
“Tag…” he said gently, stepping through the door.
Tag stiffened, quickly wiping her face and sitting up.
“Scooch? What’re you doing here?”
“Just came to check on you,” he said, hopping up onto the bed. He kept his tone light, though his heart ached seeing the sadness in her eyes. “But you don’t exactly seem ready to dominate the racetrack today.”
“I’m… not in the mood to race,” she admitted, her voice cracking slightly. “Maybe forever…”
Scooch hesitated, then rested a paw on her shoulder.
“Look… I don’t know what Colby said to you, but he’s a big dummy if he made you feel like this. Because you’re amazing, Tag. And anyone who doesn’t see that? They must be blind.”
Tag looked at him, her expression softening just a bit.
“Thanks, Scooch,” she said quietly. “I feel a little better now that you’re here.”
“Anytime,” he replied, giving her a small smile. “Now, come on. The Tag I know doesn’t give up on a race without a fight.”
Though her smile didn’t fully return, Tag nodded.
“Well…” she said hesitantly, “Maybe being in the garage will help.”
As Scooch took Tag’s paw and led her out of bed, he noticed the new trophy-shaped tag that Colby had given her yesterday laying on the bedside table. Deep down, he knew he’d do whatever it took to help her feel like herself again – even if it meant putting his own feelings aside.
‘Because her happiness matters more,’ he thought, secretly picking it up.
Just in case.
* * *
Smooch squinted as she spotted a familiar yellow figure trudging along the shoulder of the highway, slowing her patrol car to a crawl beside him. His head was low, and the weight of something unseen pressed heavily on his slouched shoulders.
“Hey there, Colby! What’re you doin’ all the way out here?”
Colby froze as he turned his head, his sharp green eyes meeting hers briefly before looking away. For a moment, he was debating whether to make a break for it.
“Just… walking,” he said, the faintest trace of unease visible in his posture. “What’re you doing out here?”
“Apparently, some cattle broke out of a nearby farm and a heifer started given’ birth on the highway while they were all trying to cross! Since I used to live on a farm, they’re askin’ me to go sort it out. It’s a whole mess,” Smooch said, leaning over towards him. “But more importantly, Colby, we’re miles from Pawston. You plannin’ on hoofin’ it all the way to the next county, or what?”
Colby shrugged nervously, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. “J-just needed to clear my head, that’s all.”
Smooch squinted; it didn’t take a detective to know there was more to this story.
Colby shifted uncomfortably, his tail twitching. “I’m fine, really. You don’t have to worry about me.”
“Boy, I’m a cop. Worryin’ about folks is my job,” Smooch said with a small smile. “Hop in, I’ll give you a ride back to town after I take care of this calf-delivery.”
“I-I’m good, but thanks,” Colby said quickly, holding up a paw as he took a step back.
“Colby.” Smooch frowned, her jovial demeanor giving way to something more serious. “Why’re you so nervous?”
“I’m not nervous,” Colby said, though his paw rubbed the back of his neck in a way that said otherwise. If Tag had told anyone that he’d kissed her… he could be in a world of trouble.
“Suuure,” Smooch said, drawing the word out as she watched him closely. “You’re squirmin’ like I just caught your paw in the treat jar. What’s wrong?”
Colby hesitated, his jaw tightening as he searched for the right words. He wasn’t sure what it was about her – maybe it was her gaze, or the genuine kindness in her tender, motherly voice – but it made him feel like she truly cared.
“I’m just… trying to figure some things out,” he finally said, his voice quieter now.
Smooch tilted her head, studying him for a moment. She’d seen a lot of looks in her line of work, but the one Colby wore – a mix of guilt, pain, and stubbornness – wasn’t new to her.
“So, you plannin’ on being back in time for the big race tonight?” she asked casually, as though they were discussing the weather; but in truth, she was in full interrogation mode.
Colby hesitated.
“...No. I’m not going,” he said firmly, his ears twitching slightly before he shook his head.
“Really?” Smooch asked, arching a brow. “How come? I figured you’d be in the front row, cheerin’ your favorite girl on.”
Colby’s jaw tightened, and he avoided her gaze.
“Tag… probably doesn’t want me there. She doesn’t need me, anyway. It’s… better this way.”
“Colby,” she said with a sigh as she rested her arm on the window ledge. “Let me tell you somethin’. Tag ain’t a puppy anymore, she’s her own dog. So whatever’s got you walking all the way out here, thinking she don’t need you – well, that’s between you and your conscience. But don’t go deciding for her what’s better or not.”
Colby looked at her then, his eyes conflicted, but said nothing.
“...Well, I’ll let you think on that. S’pose I better take off, then.” Smooch pulled ahead slightly, but hadn’t completely driven away yet.
“W-wait!” Colby called out abruptly, catching up to her. “Hold on a minute. What did you mean by “Tag isn’t a puppy anymore”? She’s seven.”
Smooch blinked, leaning her elbow on the car door as she gave him a puzzled look.
“What do I mean?” she repeated. “I mean, she’s not a puppy. Yeah, she’s seven, but she’s… a big girl now.”
Colby furrowed his brow. “I still don’t understand.”
Smooch paused, a flicker of realization crossing her face.
“Ohh,” she said slowly, scratching behind her ear awkwardly. “Uh… listen, I don’t know where you lived before you came to Pawston, but ‘round here – and just about everywhere, really – when someone isn’t a puppy anymore, it’s ‘cause, well… they’re a dog.”
Colby tilted his head, clearly unsatisfied. “That still doesn’t explain-”
Smooch cleared her throat, her tail giving a brief flick as she awkwardly interrupted. “What I mean is, legally and biologically, she’s at… that age… where Tag could potentially… have pups of her own, alright? We don’t exactly stay puppies for very long, y’know. Now that I think about it, Scooch’s voice is droppin’ by the day…”
“I’m sorry, say that again?” Colby blinked in disbelief. “Tag, she’s… old enough for… p-pups?!”
“Uh… yep,” Smooch confirmed shyly. “For almost a year now, actually. That’s just how biology works. Didn’t you ever learn about…?” She trailed off, her expression growing more puzzled by the second. “Wait, you mean you never noticed? I mean… you’ve been hangin’ around her a lot lately, haven’t you?”
“Notice… what?” he asked blankly, a hint of redness creeping beneath his fur.
Smooch grimaced as she tried to phrase her words carefully.
“Uh, her… scent. Y’know, pheromones? Dogs are s’pose to pick up on that kinda thing pretty easy. But if you didn’t, maybe you got a weaker sense of smell or somethin’? Might wanna get that checked out.”
“So… I’m sorry, let me get this straight…” Colby collected his thoughts, making sure there was no miscommunication. “Let’s say I, hypothetically, wanted to be “with” Tag… romantically… that’s just… okay?”
“Well, she is a bit on the younger side, no sugar-coatin’ that,” Smooch said, “but legally, yeah,ain’t nothin’ wrong with it. To be honest, I kinda thought you two might already be a thing, what with you bein’ attached at the hip from day one. And, well, I’m not tryin’ to embarrass you or nothin’, and you probably didn’t notice, but let’s just say your scent is… potent.”
Smooch swallowed as she gave him a strange glance up and down. Colby didn’t respond, his mind spinning with questions and unease.
“A-anyway.” She cleared her throat and continued after an awkward pause, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. “Maybe stop thinkin’ of Tag as some helpless little puppy who always needs protectin’. She’s a capable, bone-fide dog now, whether you like it or not. Oh- hold on, gotta take this.”
As Smooch’s police radio crackled with muffled chatter, Colby stood frozen, her words replaying in his mind like a haunting echo.
‘She’s not a puppy anymore… she’s a dog…’
He clenched his fists tightly as he recalled Tag’s words, the weight of realization sinking in.
‘I’m NOT a puppy! I’m a DOG!’
He had been blind – caught in the clash between his own perceptions and the reality of canine culture of this world. If he’d known – if he’d understood the distinction between “dog” and “puppy” wasn’t actually just a sentimental phrase, but a real, legal, and biological marker – he never would have said those cruel, horrible things. He would never have crushed her heart.
‘What have I done?’
Without another word, his legs sprang into action and he bolted back down the highway, his heart pounding in rhythm with his racing thoughts.
“H-hey!” Smooch called out, leaning out of her car. “You want a ride or not?!”
But Colby didn’t stop, his figure shrinking into the distance with every frantic stride. Smooch let out a low whistle, shaking her head.
“That is one odd dog,” she muttered, looking back at the yellow Labrador in her rear-view as she drove on. “...But he is a fine piece o’ tail though, mm-mh.”
Colby didn’t hear her. All he could think about was getting back to town. To Tag. To somehow fix the disaster he’d made before it was too late.
His desperation consumed his thoughts, every step pounding the earth harder than the last. He gritted his teeth, his breaths shallow and sharp.
‘Faster. I have to go faster.’
The world around him blurred as his pace quickened, his new canine body rediscovering a power he’d obtained so long ago. His muscles burned, but he pushed harder, his determination outpacing the pain. Suddenly, an electric charge buzzed through his veins, and he felt it – the surge.
His core ignited like a nuclear reactor. His eyes glowed bright green as sparks danced around his feet. The air around him grew charged, humming with raw energy. Then, with a crackling burst, Colby tore down the highway like a bolt of living lightning.
The asphalt beneath him cracked slightly as his speed approached Mach one. Streetlights flickered and dimmed in his wake, the surrounding particles illuminated by the eerie green glow emanating from his body.
‘I have to fix this… I have to make this right… I have to try.’
His plasma left shimmering trails in the air behind him, lighting up the road like shooting stars streaking toward town. For the first time since leaving Tag, Colby felt alive – not with joy, but with purpose.
* * *
The Pawston Pawtomotive was silent, save for the drip of water from a leaky pipe. A shadow silently slipped in through the door as the dim glow of a hanging lamp cast long, shifting shadows across the rows of tools and machinery.
The figure moved deliberately while scanning the space before zeroing in on Tag’s racecar. Reaching out, they picked up a torque wrench from the tool bench. They crouched near the car's rear axle, and with precise, practiced movements, they began working on the lug nuts, their paw turning the wrench with ease.
The stillness of the garage made every subtle noise seem deafening – the faint click of metal on metal, the soft rasp of furry fingers adjusting their grip. The figure paused only once, glancing toward the door and listening for any sign of intrusion.
Satisfied they were alone, they returned to their task, a sinister purpose guiding their every motion.
“TAG!”
The culprit froze in place with the wrench in their paw as Colby slammed the door open in the blink of an eye, his eyes glowing as a faint trace of green sparks arced all throughout his body.
Colby paused as his eyes landed on the figure standing by Tag's car.
“...You,” Colby growled. “I fucking knew it. All this time… it was… YOU.”
Sam Whippet slowly turned, still clutching a torque wrench in one paw.
“Even after what happened to Tag last time…” Colby muttered, stepping closer. His voice was steady, but his glowing green eyes showed his rising fury. Colby’s paws clenched into fists, the faint hum of plasma crackling at his fingertips. “You would still do it again?”
Sam’s smirk faltered for a split second, and Colby saw it – a flicker of guilt, quickly masked by arrogance.
“You can’t prove anything,” Sam shrugged, leaning casually against the workbench, though his tense posture gave away his unease. “I’m just inspecting her handiwork. Wouldn’t want my little protégé to have any unexpected issues on race day, now would I? You know how these things go. Besides, what does it matter? It’s not like she has a real shot at beating me.”
Colby’s blood boiled. He stepped closer, the air between them charged with tension. “She had a shot. And you… you fucking knew it, didn’t you? That’s why you sabotaged her in the first place! She could’ve died because of you, Sam! And for what, just to protect your pathetic ego?!”
Sam’s smirk returned, though it was weaker now, forced.
“Oh, spare me the lecture, Carl- Cole- ah, whatever your name is. It’s racing – it’s cutthroat. If she can’t handle a little challenge, she doesn’t belong on the track!”
Colby’s eyes flared brighter, casting a greenish glow over both of them. “Challenge is one thing. Nearly killing her is another. You’re no racer, Sam – you’re just a fucking coward.”
For the first time, Sam seemed genuinely offended. He glanced toward the door, as though calculating an escape. But before Sam could even lift a toe, Colby’s paw shot out like lightning, grabbing him by the throat and pinning him against the wall as the torque wrench clattered to the ground. Sam let out a startled choke, his paws clawing at Colby’s grip, but the searing green glow of Colby’s eyes froze him in place.
“You don’t know what I’m capable of,” Colby said grimly. A faint hum of plasma crackled at his fingertips, illuminating Sam’s panicked face. “Do you wanna find out, motherf-”
“Colby?!”
Colby and Sam turned their heads to see Tag and Scooch standing at the entrance to the garage, their eyes wide with shock.
“What are you two doing here? What’s going on?!” Tag demanded, stepping forward.
“Th-this psycho’s lost it!” Sam hissed, his voice strained under Colby’s hold. “He attacked me for no reason!”
“Oh, that’s rich. You think you can weasel your way outta this?” Colby let out a harsh laugh, releasing Sam and stepping back, his plasma dimming. As much as he wanted to annihilate Sam, he didn’t want to mentally scar Tag for life.
“What are you talking about?” Tag’s eyes darted between the two, her confusion deepening. “Somebody better start explaining!”
“I caught him sabotaging your car, Tag.” Colby jabbed a finger at Sam, his voice rising with anger. “He’s the one who tampered with your lug nuts last time, too.”
“You don’t actually believe him, do you, Tag?” Sam tidied his mustache, trying to regain his composure. “After all, I’m your wise mentor! Your lifelong hero!”
“I… I… I can’t believe you…” Tag’s fists clenched at her sides as she glared at her former mentor. Deep in her heart, she already knew the truth. “...Sam. You used to be my hero, but not anymore! You’re nothing but a… a… a fraud! Didn’t you always say there’s more to racing than winning?”
Sam lowered and shook his head with a snicker, clutching his face with both paws. His neatly combed mustache was quickly coming undone, now crooked and disheveled, matching the wild glint in his eyes. He began to laugh – an unhinged, hollow sound that echoed through the tense air of the garage.
“There’s more to racing than winning,” he spat mockingly, his voice teetering between fury and desperation. He slammed his paw onto the workbench, leaning forward as his wild eyes locked onto Tag, Colby, and Scooch. “A fraud, am I?! A coward, am I?! You think you can ruin me?! You think you know what it means to be a winner?!”
“S-sam-” Tag stuttered in shock, her voice low and cautious.
“Shut up!” Sam barked, his lips curling into a snarl. “You morons don’t get it, do you?! Winning is everything! Nobody remembers second place! Nobody cares about the losers! History belongs to the winners! And I’ve worked too hard for too long for some wet-behind-the-ears pup like you to tear it all down!”
He took a step forward, his voice growing louder with every word. “Do you know what it’s like to be worshipped?! To have everyone adore you?! They don’t just love me – they need me! I’m their hero! The golden boy! The face of racing! Without me, Pawston is nothing! Nothing!”
Colby’s energy flickered faintly at his fingertips as he growled under his breath, but Tag held up a paw to stop him.
“And you?” Sam sneered, pointing a trembling finger at Tag. “You think you’re special because you’ve got a little talent and a big mouth? You’re nothing but a novelty! A scrappy little underdog that people only cheer for because they pity you! But me? I’ve earned this! Every win, every record, every trophy – I’ve fought for it! Bled for it! And I’ve crushed anyone who dared stand in my way!”
Scooch bravely stepped forward, his hackles raised.
“Sounds like someone’s scared of a ‘scrappy little underdog’.”
“Scared? Of her?” Sam’s laugh was dry and humorless.” Don’t make me laugh, you puny little runt. She’s not worth the dirt on my tires.”
He paced back and forth, tugging at his already-askew mustache.
“I’m Sam Whippet! The fastest dog alive! The unbeatable champion! And if you think I’m gonna let some bratty little bitch ruin my perfect record, then you’re sorely mistaken!” Sam cleared his throat and stared directly at Tag, his eyes burning with a mix of rage and desperation. “So go ahead, Tag. Race me. But know this: when you lose – and you will lose – nobody will remember you. Nobody will care. They’ll forget you as quickly as they cheered for you. Because only winners matter, and I am the only winner that Pawston will ever need.”
The room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by Sam’s labored breathing. He had completely unraveled, held together only by the fragile thread of his own ego.
Colby stepped forward, his hackles raised as well.
“Your stupid record doesn’t excuse that you knowingly tried to get Tag killed, you piece of dogshit. So if you ask me, you’d better leave Pawston forever and pray you never see my fucking face again, because if I see yours… it’s on sight.”
Tag placed a paw on Colby’s arm, stopping him.
“...Just let it go, Colby.”
Her voice was calm, but her eyes burned with a mix of sadness and determination.
Colby hesitated, his gaze locked on her. After a moment, he conceded with a sigh, stepping back.
“Smart choice, Tag.” Sam smoothed his disheveled fur and sneered. “I’ll see you at the track – if you even bother showing up.”
Without another word, Sam straightened his mustache and walked out of the garage as though nothing had happened.
With the three of them now alone, Tag and Scooch stood side by side, glaring at Colby, who shifted uncomfortably under their stares. His ears drooped slightly as he glanced at Scooch.
“Can I… have a moment alone with Tag?”
Scooch scowled deeper.
“No way. After what you did, hurting her like that? If you’ve got something to say, you can say it in front of me.”
“Scooch… it’s okay.” Tag put a paw on his shoulder.
Scooch hesitated, his gaze darting between them. Finally, with a reluctant huff, he stepped outside, muttering, “I’ll be right here if you need me, Tag… I always am.”
The door swung shut, leaving Colby and Tag alone, the weight of the silence pressed down on them.
“Tag, I…” Colby took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto hers. “...I’m sorry. For everything.”
Tag simply scowled at him bitterly, arms crossed.
“I was lying, I didn’t mean a single word I said last night. You were right, I was scared. Terrified, even.”
“Do you know how much it hurt to hear you say those things?” Tag asked quietly, her voice trembling. “To hear that everything we had was just… pretend? How can I ever believe anything you say to me after that?”
Colby winced, his guilt written plainly on his face as he looked away. “I know. I messed up so badly, and I can’t expect you to ever forgive or trust me ever again. But you should know you were right… about everything. I do care about you… way more than I should.”
Tag’s ears perked slightly, but her expression remained guarded.
“What do you mean?”
Colby looked at her, his green eyes shining with sincerity. “I’ve spent most of my life running – running from my past, from my mistakes. And when I met you, you made me stop for the first time in… ages. You made me want to stop. But that scared me, because I didn’t think I deserved it. Deserved you.”
“Colby, I can’t help you get past this if you won’t let me help,” said Tag.
Colby took a deep, shuddering breath. His paws trembled as he clenched them at his sides, and he forced himself to meet Tag's gaze.
"Tag," he began, his voice uneven, "there’s something you don’t know about me. Something… big. And you deserve to know the truth now."
Tag blinked, her brow furrowing. “What is it?”
He hesitated, staring at the ground for a moment before speaking again.
"I’m not… from here. I mean, not from this world.”
Tag’s ears twitched, her expression flickering between confusion and concern. “What do you mean? Are you like… an alien or something?”
Colby sighed, his shoulders sagging. “Sort of. I wasn’t always a dog. Where I come from, I was… something else. Someone else. Back in my world, things were… different. The way people lived, the way they grew up – it wasn’t like it is here, in too many ways to count. But where I’m from, the kind of connection we have, the feelings I have… it wouldn’t be okay. It would be seen as wrong."
Tag stared at him, her mouth slightly open, as though trying to process what he was saying. "But… why? Why would it be wrong?"
“Because of our age difference,” Colby admitted. “In my world, your age, compared to mine, would mean something completely different. I didn’t realize how… differently things work in this world. I thought I was just doing the right thing by pushing you away, but… I hate myself for hurting you.”
Tag’s expression softened. “Colby… why didn’t you just tell me? Why didn’t you trust me enough to explain?”
“Because I was… scared,” he whimpered. “Scared of what you’d think of me, that is if you’d even believe me at all.”
Tag stepped even closer, her voice quiet but firm. “I could never hate you, Colby. Even after everything you said last night, I tried to, believe me, but… I just couldn’t. But you have to stop shutting me out, okay? You have to trust me completely”
Colby nodded. “I do. I just… I wanted to protect you, but all I did was hurt you. All I ever seem to do is ruin everything.”
Tag’s gaze softened, and for a moment, the tension in the room seemed to lift. “I’m not asking you to be perfect, Colby. I’m just asking you to be honest with me.”
Colby nodded again, his ears twitching slightly. “Then here’s the truth… the real truth. I came back because, despite everything telling me I shouldn't… I l-lo… adore you, Tag.”
As much as Colby wanted to say the word, his mouth betrayed him in the moment.
“I… adore you too, Colby,” she said, looking away shyly. “A-anyway, now that you’re back, I can finally show you this.”
Colby blinked as Tag gestured toward the far corner of the garage, where a tarp-covered shape sat. He’d noticed it before, but never thought much of it until now. His confusion grew as she walked over before yanking the tarp away.
Underneath was a sleek motorcycle, painted in fiery red and orange with accents of subtly glowing green lights. The design was bold yet streamlined, radiating an energy that matched Colby’s plasma-powered abilities.
“Tag… what is this?” Colby asked quietly, his jaw agape.
“It’s your birthday present,” Tag said, her tail wagging as she looked between him and the bike. “I wanted to do something special for you. Do you like it?”
“Like it?” Colby stepped closer, running a paw along the glossy finish of the bike. “Tag, this is incredible. How… how did you even…?” He paused, shaking his head in disbelief. “When did you find the time to build this?”
“Stayed up late a few nights.” She grinned sheepishly. “Okay, a lot of nights. But it was worth it.” She leaned on the handlebars, looking up at him. “You didn’t think I’d forget, did you?”
Colby’s throat tightened as he stared at her, then back at the bike. “I…” His voice faltered, and he quickly looked away, blinking back the sting in his eyes.
Tag tilted her head, her smile fading. “Hey, you okay?”
“Yeah. I just… I don’t know what to say.” Colby turned back to her, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. He then reached out and pulled her into a quick, heartfelt hug. “Thank you, Tag. For everything. This… means more than you know.”
She hugged him back, her tail wagging. “Happy birthday, Colby.”
Colby glanced at the wall clock in the garage and froze.
"Tag, what time is the registration deadline for the race?"
Tag’s tail drooped as realization hit her. "Five o’clock… Why?" Her ears pinned back. "Wait, what time is it now?"
"It’s 4:55."
"What? No, no, no!" She paced frantically. "I was so upset, I didn’t even bother registering this morning!"
"Tag, relax," Colby said, placing a paw on her shoulder. "There’s still time. You can make it."
"How?" Tag exclaimed, throwing her paws in the air. "I can’t get there in five minutes, it’s all the way on the other side of town! There’s no way, unless I take a shortcut through-" She froze, her eyes widening. "Pothole Road."
"Then you know what to do."
Tag’s gaze darted to the clock, then back to Colby.
"But what if I don’t make it? What if-"
"Tag." Colby crouched slightly, looking her in the eye with unwavering confidence. "You can do this. I’ll stay here and triple-check your car to make sure Sam didn’t mess with anything else."
Tag swallowed her nerves, then nodded. She hopped on her motor-scooter, revving it up. "Okay. I’m going for it."
"That’s my girl," Colby said, his lips curling into a small smile.
As Tag sped out of the garage, her heart pounded in her chest, not just from the pressure of making it in time, but from the exhilaration of knowing Colby loved her after all. She felt alive, determined, and, for the first time in days, completely certain of what she wanted: to race and to win.
"Watch out, Sam," she muttered under her breath, the wind whipping through her fur. "I’m coming for you."
Scooch popped his head into the garage, scowling.
“What’s going on? What did you say to her this time?!”
Colby gestured to Tag’s car.
“If you help me out here, I’ll explain as we go. Also… can I get your mom’s number?”
Scooch blinked.
“...What?”
Meanwhile, Tag’s heart leaped into her throat as she drove over a large pothole, but she tightened her grip and leaned forward, willing the machine to steady itself.
She glanced down at the clock on the dashboard. 4:57.
Colby stood under the lights, his brow furrowed in focus. He crouched by one of the tires, making sure all the bolts were tightly snug as Scooch got to work thoroughly inspecting the engine.
The final stretch loomed before Tag, the lights of the speedway glowing like a beacon. The clock on her dashboard blinked: 4:58. She grinned despite the pressure, a flicker of exhilaration sparking in her heart as she sped toward her goal.
Colby wiped the grease from his paws, stepping back to survey their work. With Scooch’s help, every bolt, wire, and joint had been checked, rechecked, and rechecked again.
Colby and Scooch hopped into the car, ready to bring it to the racetrack.
“Destiny, don’t fail me now,” he muttered, turning the key.
Tag was fast-approaching the registration booth, praying she would make it in time.
4:59 P.M.
* * *
The sun had begun its slow descent, casting a golden hue across the racetrack. Colby parked Tag’s car just behind the starting lineup, his eyes scanning the track as he and Scooch walked toward the pit.
As Colby approached the pit, he caught a glimpse of Tag entering from the concourse and getting into her car. Giving Colby and Scooch a grateful look, there was a fire in her eyes that burned brighter than ever before. Despite everything that had happened, despite the way he had hurt her, she had come this far, and nothing was going to stop her now.
Around her, the other racers were giving each other competitive glances, their grip tight on the steering wheels of their high-performance machines. But none were more intense than Sam Whippet, whose car was positioned at the front; his mustache twitched in irritation as he looked all the way back at Tag’s car, his eyes burning with a mix of confidence and disdain.
There was a sense of fate in the air, as if everyone present knew what was at stake.
The announcer’s voice crackled over the loudspeakers, cutting through the stillness.
“Racers, to your positions!”
As the racers lined up, the hum of engines filled the air, but Colby’s focus was solely on Tag. She was at the end of the line, the last car in a row of gleaming machines, each one more intimidating than the last.
Colby approached her car and met her gaze with steady eyes. Tag’s face was a mix of determination and anxiety, the weight of the race hanging heavy on her shoulders.
“Tag,” he said softly, leaning in slightly so she could hear over the noise of the engines. “Listen to me. You’ve got this.”
She looked at him, her brows furrowed slightly.
“I’m dead-last, Colby. I’ve barely even registered for the race in time, and now I have to start at the back.”
Colby placed his paw on her shoulder.
“That won’t matter,” he said calmly. “Not to you. You’ve been training for this, Tag. You know this track better than anyone.”
Her lips twitched upward with his support, but the worry was still there, lurking beneath the surface.
“You’ll make up that distance in no time,” Colby continued, his tone unwavering. “There’s no one else out there who can handle a turn like you. And when it gets tough, when they start pushing you, just remember why you’re here. You’re not racing for them, not for anyone in that crowd, not for me. You’re racing for you.”
Tag nodded, a glimmer of her old confidence returning.
“...You’re right,” she said quietly. “I’ve got this.”
“Yeah you do.”
With one last lingering glance, Colby stepped back, giving her space to focus as the final preparations for the race began. Truthfully, Colby didn’t know for certain if Tag could pull off a win tonight. But no matter what, he knew one thing was certain:
He loved her.
The stadium was packed to the brim, extending all around the track. The event was nothing short of historic – racing enthusiasts from all over had gathered to witness what could be a defining moment in racing history.
In the commentator’s booth overlooking the track, two commentators sat with their headsets on, their voices reaching far and wide .
“Good evening, racing fans!” barked Howl Hype, “This is it, folks – the race of the century! Tonight, Sam Whippet, the undefeated champ, has a shot at clinching his 100th consecutive victory! That’s right, one hundred wins in a row!”
His co-commentator, Ripley McRuffins, nodded.
“If Sam Whippet pulls it off tonight, he’ll go down in history as the greatest racer of all time, officially cementing his place in the Doggy Book of World Records. No one’s ever come close to achieving such a monumental streak.”
“It’s no wonder the Pawston Speedway is bursting at the seams tonight for this championship race,” Howl continued. “Racing fans from every corner of the country have flocked here to see Sam make history!”
“Let’s not forget,” Ripley interjected, “Sam’s not without competition tonight. The lineup is packed with veteran racers, and even a few rookies are looking to make a name for themselves. But let’s be honest, Howl, the odds are stacked heavily in Sam’s favor. He’s been practically unbeatable for years.”
“Practically?” Howl teased. “Try literally! This crowd’s expecting to witness the coronation of a racing king! No one’s expecting an upset tonight.”
Ripley hesitated as the feed panned over the racers, ending with Tag.
“Still... racing’s unpredictable. Anything can happen on that track, Howl.”
“Anything, Ripley? Sure, but let’s be real – Whippet’s got this in the bag.”
As Colby stood in the pit with Scooch, his eyes scanning the crowd, he noticed something. The audience seemed oddly… disengaged. Their eyes were on the starting line, but there was hardly any buzz of excitement, no eager chatter or nervous energy that typically filled the air before a big race. Instead, they seemed almost… bored, as though the entire town had already resigned itself to the idea that Sam Whippet would win yet again, just like he always did. There was no real excitement for the underdogs, no belief that anyone else – least of all a newcomer like Tag – could challenge Sam's dominance.
He could feel the weight of that unspoken expectation, the way the crowd had already written off every other racer before the engines even fired. He shifted his gaze to the cars lined up, his eyes lingering on Tag’s. She was still poised, focused, unaffected by the silent dismissal of the crowd.
A small smile tugged at his lips as he turned his attention back to the starting lights, waiting for them to signal the beginning of the race. He had to believe in her, even if no one else did.
As the racers revved their engines, Scooch watched Tag’s every move as her crew chief. He leaned over the pit wall, giving Tag a thumbs-up when she glanced his way, a subtle but reassuring gesture.
“You ready?” he called, his voice cutting through the noise.
"I think so," she said, but there was a hint of uncertainty in her voice.
Scooch chuckled softly. “Think so? C’mon, you were born for this, Tag. Now show ‘em what you’re made of. Oh, and…”
Scooch took out Tag’s trophy-shaped tag, tossing it over to her.
“...I think you forgot this.”
As she caught it, her expression finally hardened into the fierce, focused look he knew well. Tag put her tag back on with a smile and gripped the wheel tighter, her tension dissolving.
“Right,” she said, her voice growing more certain. "Let’s do this."
The crowd suddenly fell silent as the Barkapellas stepped forward onto a small stage for Pawston’s town anthem.
“O dogs of Pawston, eagerly we speeeed,
To win a race or help a dog in neeeed,
O dogs of Pawston, brave and true,
Stand up and howl a great ‘haroo’!
In Pawston, friendshiiip always takes the leeead!”
Then, the announcer's voice rang out.
“Racers, start your engines!”
Tag’s heart raced as her car’s engine sputtered to life, the low growl of the engine mingling with the other cars’ roars, vibrating through her body. She tightened her grip on the wheel, the weight of the race settling heavily on her shoulders. She was last in line, but she was ready to prove herself.
“On your marks… Get set…”
From the bowl position at the front of the line, Sam Whippet turned his head, his eyes locking with hers. His sneer was unmistakable, a twisted smirk curling beneath his mustache. Tag didn’t flinch though, instead meeting his gaze with calm determination before flipping down the visor of her new closed-face helmet. His intimidation tactics wouldn’t work on her – not anymore.
“Go, dogs, go!”
The ground trembled under the roar of the engines, and the race was on. Tires screeched against the asphalt as the cars tore ahead at breakneck speeds. The wind whipped past Tag’s helmet as she pressed the pedal to the floor, her engine roaring in her ears.
Tag surged forward, her car quickly picking up speed, the wind fighting against her as she shot down the straightaway. She felt the pull of the road, the hum of the engine, the thrill of the race all combining into one singular focus.
She had a race to win.
Tag’s car hugged the curves of the track with an impressive grace, just as Colby had taught her. She was gaining ground with each lap, bobbing and weaving through the other racers as she passed them one by one.
Colby watched as Tag skillfully maneuvered through, drifting around the corners with precision and purpose. He could almost hear his own instructions in her movements: “anticipate the turn,” “feel the road,” “use the draft to your advantage.”
Beside him, Scooch was practically vibrating with energy, his gaze darting between the track and Colby.
“She’s doing it! She’s catching up!”
Colby didn’t answer, his focus unwavering, his eyes never leaving Tag as he paced back and forth. He’d taught her everything he knew, but watching her out there now – defying every expectation, including his own – it was something else entirely.
Suddenly, he felt a paw firmly grip his shoulder.
“You have a lot of explaining to do.”
Colby nervously turned his head to see Paw Barker standing behind him with an uncharacteristic scowl.
“You’re right,” Colby sighed, “I do. And I will. I promise I’ll explain everything later. But right now, Tag needs us. Needs me. And this time… I’m here to stay.”
“Well…” Paw loosened his grip, retreating back to his seat in the stands. “Good. I’m holding you to it.”
Tag was pushing harder now, the gap closing between her and Sam. But Wind Swiftly, who was currently in second place, was still holding her ground.
Lap after lap, Tag tracked Wind’s every move, using the draft to her advantage, pulling up on the straightaways, her grip steady as she shadowed Wind’s movements. Colby’s heart raced with hers, sensing the moment when the time would come.
As Tag closed in on Wind, the tension escalated. Tag’s car was practically glued to Wind’s bumper, each turn bringing her closer and closer, but Wind wasn’t going down without a fight. The two cars jockeyed for position, Wind’s aggressive driving keeping Tag at bay. Wind’s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, watching the reflection of Mandy McRuff – another fierce contender, with a winning record second only to Sam’s – gaining on them both.
Tag felt the pressure, her paws tightening on the steering wheel as she drifted through another curve, trying to keep her momentum. Wind was relentless though, blocking every line Tag tried to take. Colby watched, jaw clenched, as his heart raced with every shift in the cars’ positions.
It wasn’t just about speed now – it was about heart. Tag had the skill, but Wind had the experience. Yet as the two girls battled it out, something unexpected happened.
Wind glanced again in her rearview mirror, her gaze flicking from Tag to the approaching Mandy. For the first time, a flicker of something softened in her expression.
She could see it in Tag – the sheer determination, the hunger, the heart to go the distance. Tag wasn't just racing for fame and glory, she was racing for much more. Tag breathed, sweat, and bled racing, all just for racing’s sake. And then, Wind came to a decision.
Not for Tag, her rival - but for Tag, her friend.
With a sharp breath, she eased off the pedal.
Tag’s eyes widened when she saw Wind’s sudden shift, and in that moment, she understood. Wind wasn’t giving up, she was giving way.
With an understanding nod to Wind, Tag pushed harder, pulling into second place with everything she had.
“Go get ‘im, Tag,” Wind whispered as she fell back to block Mandy’s advances.
The world seemed to close in on Tag as she followed Sam Whippet’s car. Every corner, every shift in speed made her heart race faster. The crowd, the roaring engines, and the scent of rubber burned into the air – it was all suddenly becoming too much to handle. A familiar sensation clawed at her chest as a memory came crashing back – the screech of the tires, the horrifying moment when her tire had come flying off, the feeling of the entire world spinning out of control.
"...I… I can't do this... I-I can't..." Tag's voice quietly trembled through the headset, barely audible over the roar of the engines as she began freezing up.
Her grip tightened on the wheel as panic surged inside her; she wasn’t the fearless racer she thought she was. She wasn’t the dog who could overcome anything. Not now, not when her fear was threatening to swallow her whole. Everyone who believed in her… she would let them all down.
Scooch’s voice crackled through the radio, attempting to keep her grounded.
“Tag, you’re doing great. Just focus on the track.”
But Tag couldn’t hear him. It was like the words couldn’t break through the fog of anxiety that had enveloped her mind.
“...I’m gonna let everyone down…”
“Tag, please… you’ve got this,” Scooch tried again, his voice now strained with concern. “Don’t give up.”
But Tag couldn’t shake the feeling of impending doom. She could feel the fear like a weight pressing on her chest. The world around her spun, and she felt her paws go cold.
Before Scooch could say anything more, Colby came to his side.
“Scooch… do you mind if I take over? I think I know what she’s going through.”
There was a brief pause, but Scooch, sensing the sadness in Colby’s tone, didn’t hesitate.
Colby’s voice was softer now, just for Tag.
“Tag… listen to me. You are not alone.”
Tag’s paws trembled on the wheel, but she forced herself to focus on Colby’s words, letting them sink in. His quiet reassurance had a naturally grounding effect, pulling her back from the brink of terror.
“I know you’re scared of letting everyone down, of not being enough. I’ve felt that too, more times than I can count. But let me tell you something: the dogs who care about you, who truly love you, believe in you because of who you are, not because of a trophy or title. You’re brave, Tag.”
Tag’s heavy breathing slowed a little.
"Y’know, Sam was right about one thing before," Colby continued, his words slow and deliberate. "There is more to racing than winning. Because, win or lose, nothing will change the fact that…"
Colby’s voice dropped, softening just enough to break through her panic.
“...I love you, Tag.”
His words hung in the air, suspended for a moment. A small, insecure part of Tag wondered if it could be another lie, but the sincerity in Colby’s voice – the raw truth of it – washed over her like a wave, calming the chaos inside her.
“Not if you finish second place, or third place, or even last place. I love you. And I’m so proud of you. We all are.”
Tag’s heart finally settled, the panic slowly receding as her grip on the wheel steadied. Sam Whippet was still in front of her, but now she could see him clearly without the haze of fear clouding her mind.
“I love you too, Colby.”
Tag took a deep breath, and with a surge of determination, she pushed the pedal to the floor, letting herself feel the rush of adrenaline – this time, not as a curse, but as a promise.
She was not going to let Sam win.
And as she leaned into the curve, her focus sharp and clear, she could feel Colby’s presence – his voice, his words, his love – kept her going.
With only a few laps left, she was closing in on Sam Whippet, but a nervous dread crept up her spine. Sam was just ahead, but he wasn’t acting like he was worried. Instead, he seemed completely calm, like he wasn’t afraid at all. Tag’s heart pounded, but she forced herself to focus on the voice in her earpiece.
“Wait for it,” Colby urged. “He’ll do his move soon. You know the one.”
Tag knew exactly what Colby was talking about. Sam was infamous for his dramatic move: spinning around, driving backwards to rub his victory in his opponents’ faces, while still somehow maintaining control of the race. It was his way of making sure everyone knew he was untouchable.
“Colby… he’s still not doing it…” Tag said nervously.
“Trust me, he’ll do it. Just wait.”
“B-but what if he doesn’t?” Tag’s stomach twisted, her foot hovering over the pedal. “What if-”
“Do you trust me?” Colby asked, a calm authority in his tone.
Tag hesitated, her mind swirling with doubt. But when she looked ahead at Sam’s car, and then back to Colby in the pit, she felt something shift in her chest.
“Yes… I do trust you, Colby. With my life.”
“And I trust you,” Colby replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “Now just relax, breathe… and wait.”
Tag’s heart thundered as they approached the final stretch. Sam’s car loomed just ahead, still driving in a straight line, but she could sense him preparing. She could see it in the way his tires gripped the track, in the way his car angled slightly, ready to swing around. She held her breath, waiting for the moment when it all clicked.
“Wait… wait… wait…”
And then – there it was. Sam glanced in his rearview mirror and saw her coming, so close now. His ego just couldn’t resist toying with her again. His grin curled at the edges, and in a flash, he began to spin, his car twisting into a tight circle.
Tag’s heart skipped a beat, seeing it happen in slow-motion as Colby’s voice broke through the tension like a lifeline.
“NOW, TAG! PUNCH IT!”
Without thinking, Tag slammed her foot down, the engine roaring to life. A rush of speed surged through her as she shot forward, zooming past Sam’s car mid-spin.
“LET’S FUCKING GOOO!” Colby screamed at the top of his lungs as his face lit up, cheering ecstatically.
“WHAT?!” Sam’s voice cracked with rage as he spun his car back around as fast as he could, his eyes wild with disbelief. He had never once expected anyone to actually pass him – certainly not on his track, in his race. But out of all the dogs, Tag had done it. And now, with a sharp turn of his wheel, he was determined to make sure she didn’t keep the lead for long.
The crowd suddenly sat up in their seats, their energy shifting from indifference to excited shouts as they rallied behind her. Needless to say, the Barker family’s cheers were the loudest of all.
But Tag wasn’t fazed. As she flew across the track, she couldn’t help but laugh, full of pure disbelief and exhilaration. She was in first place. She had actually passed the unbeatable Sam Whippet.
Colby’s voice in her earpiece cut through the excitement buzzing in Tag’s head.
“Don’t get too comfortable, Tag,” he warned urgently, “Sam’s not finished yet, he’s right on your tail.”
Tag’s breath hitched as she glanced in her rearview mirror. Sure enough, Sam’s car was a blur of motion, closing the distance between them with terrifying speed. She could practically feel the weight of his anger as his mustache was visibly frayed again, the way his car surged towards her, intent on reclaiming his title.
Colby’s voice came again, calm but commanding. “He’s gonna try to pass you. Left side.”
Tag gripped the wheel, her paws sweaty but steady.
“Got it,” she murmured to herself, her mind sharpening, focusing. She knew this moment – this was where she’d prove everything. The next few seconds were critical.
Sam’s car swerved to the left, attempting to slide past her in a daring move, but Tag had been prepared. With a practiced flick of the wheel, she blocked him, forcing him to pull back, his tires screeching as he tried to regain control.
“Nice!” Colby shouted. “He’s gonna try again. Right side. Get ready.”
Tag’s eyes narrowed in determination. “Bring it,” she whispered, feeling the adrenaline surge through her veins like fire.
Sam, growing desperate, swerved to the right, but again, Tag was ahead of him. She blocked his path effortlessly, feeling the thrill of the race coursing through her. She wasn’t just fighting for herself now – she was fighting for everything. For every lesson Colby had taught her. For every endless hour she’d spent perfecting every curve, every drift. For the dreams she’d kept hidden deep inside.
“Left again,” Colby directed, his voice steady, but there was a sense of urgency now. “He’s goin’ for it.”
Sam’s car veered to the left once more, trying to sneak past her. But Tag was ready. With a perfect swing of the wheel, she cut him off again, sending him skidding to the side. The crowd cheered, the sound of their excitement thunderous in her ears. It was as if they, too, could feel the tension in the air, the battle between the two racers drawing them in like a magnet.
Tag’s chest tightened with concentration. Sam was getting frustrated—she could see it in the way his movements grew erratic, in the fierce glare of his eyes as he desperately tried to figure out how to get past her.
“Right side,” Colby’s voice cut through the chaos. “Now or never, Tag.”
Sam was about to make his move again, his car cutting toward her right side like a predator closing in on its prey. This time, there was no hesitation. With a firm grip on the wheel, Tag countered his move, her car pulling ahead with a burst of speed that surprised even her.
Sam slammed on the brakes, cursing under his breath as he lost ground once again. The crowd went wild. Tag’s heart soared in her chest, the taste of victory within her reach. She wasn’t just holding her own – she was winning.
“Last lap,” Colby said, his voice low but filled with pride. “Finish it, Tag.”
Tag smiled to herself. She was ready.
As Tag approached the final stretch, a wild idea sparked in her mind – a move that would give Sam a taste of his own medicine, putting a unique and ironic twist on his own move against him. Taking a risk, she slammed the wheel to the side, kicking the back end of her car out in a flawless 360-degree drift. The tires screeched as her car spun, the crowd gasping at the unexpected maneuver.
But Tag wasn’t done. She did it again – another perfectly executed 360 spin, drifting through the corners with effortless precision. At first, it looked like she was going to spin out – but everything was calculated and coordinated. Left, right, left, each turn a blur of motion, her car dancing like a living thing on the asphalt. She kept her lane, her focus unshakable, but her car spun like a buzzsaw on the track, confusing and disorienting Sam.
Colby watched it all unfold from the sidelines, his lips curling into a smile as he watched Tag’s unexpected brilliance. She was unstoppable. He chuckled softly to himself, shaking his head in disbelief.
“I never taught her that,” he muttered under his breath. This was all her, a Tag-original. She was in her own element now, and Colby couldn’t be prouder.
Sam, however, was visibly shaken. His eyes flicked nervously from left to right, trying to track Tag’s movements. He was trying to guess her next move, but she was unpredictable now. Her constant spinning threw him off, making him hesitate, second-guess himself. His face twisted with anger as he fought to keep up, but no matter how hard he pushed, he couldn’t match the precision and speed of Tag’s movements. As they rounded the final bend, Sam was breathing heavily, his engine roaring, trying to push past every instinct telling him he was done for.
“Now, Tag.” Colby’s voice rang encouragingly in her ear. “Finish this.”
The car roared as she straightened herself out at the final stretch and floored it, propelling herself forward with everything she had. Time itself seemed to stretch in that moment – the final stretch, the sight of the finish line, the sound of the engine screaming beneath her.
The crowd erupted into wild cheers, the energy in the air almost electric. For Tag, everything was a blur.
And then… the announcer's voice echoed through the loudspeakers.
“I see it, but I don’t believe it! TAG BARKER WINS!”
“YES!!!” Colby and Scooch screamed together from the pit.
The crowd’s cheers grew even louder, as Tag’s mind swirled with disbelief, excitement, and pride. She couldn’t contain the grin that spread across her face as she finally came to a stop, taking off her helmet. This was the moment she had worked for, the moment she had fought for. And it was all hers.
Against all the odds, Tag Barker had won.
Sam soundly came in second, his car pulling over with a defeated whine. His paws were clenched in frustration as he hit the steering wheel, but it was clear – Tag had outsmarted him, outpaced him, and taken the race by sheer force of will.
Tag sat there for a moment, still in disbelief, her heart pounding in her chest. The roar of the crowd, the flashing lights, the overwhelming surge of energy—it all felt surreal. She had actually won, something she once could only ever dare to dream.
As Sam Whippet stepped out of his car, his face twisted in disbelief and rage, his eyes locked onto Tag. He was ready to storm toward her, to confront her, to make her regret every moment of this race.
Suddenly, a firm voice caught his attention, cold and commanding.
"Sam Whippet, you’re under arrest for vehicular tamperin’, criminal mischief, and premeditated reckless endangerment," Sergeant Pooch said, stepping forward as she spun a pair of pawcuffs around her finger. Sam froze, his defiant sneer faltering as he looked up at the officer, realizing too late that he had been exposed.
"And you're a BAD dog," she added, cuffing him. As Smooch escorted Sam away, she glanced at Colby and gave him a nod of approval for informing her of Sam’s scheme.
Tag stepped out and stood tall as she watched Sam be taken away, the weight of the moment settling in. She had fought for this with everything she had, and now, as Sam was led off in disgrace, she knew that this was only the beginning.
Tag’s family was rushing onto the track first, followed by dozens of others. But before she could react, she was hoisted into the air as dogs of all sizes, faces full of joy and excitement. They lifted her up above their heads and tossed her up while celebrating the incredible win as three cheers of "Yip! Yip! AWOO!" echoed across the track.
As she was tossed into the air, Tag felt a rush of pure, unbridled exhilaration. The cheers of the crowd, the warmth of the celebration, it all seemed to blur into an ethereal haze around her. For a brief moment, she felt weightless, as if gravity itself had loosened its grip on her. Her arms outstretched, she felt like she could reach out and grab the stars themselves, her fingers brushing against the infinite sky.
The sensation was intoxicating, as if all the weight of her past struggles, all the doubt and uncertainty, had been lifted away, and she was floating on the energy of the moment. She was here, she was seen, and she had won. And in that single, suspended moment, she could almost believe that nothing could ever bring her down.
The crowd continued to cheer, their jubilant howls reverberating through the air, but as Tag was hoisted up and spun around, her world seemed to slow down. Every noise became muffled, every face a blur. The whirlwind of excitement, the rush of victory, it all felt surreal.
As she fell back down to Earth, a familiar warmth enveloped her. Colby’s arms alone caught her, his steady grip grounding her. For a moment, the chaos of the celebrations faded into the background.
Tag’s heart pounded in her chest as she looked up at Colby. His eyes were soft, his smile full of unspoken words. She felt herself leaning into him, the adrenaline of the race mixing with something much deeper.
“Am I dreaming?” she asked, her fingers brushing against Colby’s cheek as she looked at him with wonder in her eyes.
Tag’s breath hitched, and instead of giving her an answer, Colby pulled her closer. There was no hesitation in his eyes – no more running, no more pushing her away. In this moment, all the doubts and the fears melted away. It was just the two of them.
And then, his lips met her own, filled with all the emotions they had both held back for so long.
Yes, Tag had won the race… but the best victories in life are far greater than any golden trophy could compare.
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