The streets of Michigan held the best car soirees and top dog street races-on top of it all, a life of their own.
What happens when two polar opposite racers collide; the best one from detroit, and one all the way from the city of angels?
Different racing strip, same loud crowd. Alcohol, gasoline, high-end cars, and bags of money are all you'd see around here. This was one of those spots the cops hadn't sniffed out yet, tucked away enough to give us freedom, but still dangerous. Just the way we all liked it.
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Katarina was making her way through the crowd, the conversations familiar in a way I almost memorized from our years of doing this. She was giving people high-fives, negotiating with whatever she's up to, and I could feel her excitement from a distance.
At least, that's what I kept telling myself.
As I climbed out of the car, Smoke was already making his way over, his grin visible even under the dim lights that lined the strip. He gave me a nod, then turned to my car, patting the hood with a kind of reverence.
"So, how's she feelin'?" he asked, his voice holding that mixture of pride and curiosity only a mechanic could have. Katarina and Smoke put hours into my car last night, working until the early hours to make sure every adjustment was perfect.
I ran a hand over the smooth metal, feeling a jolt of pride. My car looked sleek and powerful. "The best one yet," I said with a grin. "Let's see if it lives up to the hype you gave me."
Smoke laughed. "Trust me, Ryujin. You're gonna leave these chumps in the dust."
I took in the crowd, scanning faces as the usual group gathered, their chatter buzzing around me, but a particular voice cut through, louder and more arrogant than the rest—Matteo.
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I'd heard about him, of course. He was notorious on the circuit—a name that made people's faces tighten and fists clench. Famous for his trash talk, his cockiness, and a dangerous kind of arrogance that was hard to shake.
Despite everything, however, he'd never lost a race. Never been beaten. There were whispers he was unbeatable, a prodigy who made the track his playground.
How I'd love to change that.
I hated guys like him. I could practically feel the bile rise in my throat just from hearing his laugh.
