I could barely process what I saw, but my body moved before thought could catch up. Men were shouting. Doors slammed. Tires screeched.
And in the middle of it all…
She was standing there—Eva.
"Hey, get aside! Can't you see us?" one of them barked, his voice sharp and arrogant.
Then he did it. A shove—hard, careless—sent her stumbling back. My blood turned to ice. And then, to fire.
She collided with me, her body instinctively bracing as I caught her. My arms steadied her, just long enough for me to feel her stillness—and just long enough for the man who touched her to seal his fate.
I didn't even look at her.
I moved past her like a storm unleashed, my fist connected with the man's jaw in a brutal strike, sending him staggering backward. I grabbed him by the collar, yanking him close, my voice deadly calm—calm in a way that should terrify anyone listening.
"How dare you touch her?"
The man winced, but forced a pathetic laugh. "Why do you care?". I didn't blink.
"I care because she's my wife."
The man's smirk widened as he wiped the blood from his split lip. "Oh, that explains it. You should keep your wife at home, then. Go take her home, little husband."
The group behind him chuckled, the sound grating against my nerves. Another one stepped forward, cocky as hell, pointing to the road like this was all some kind of game. "She was in our way. We're about to start a race, and she interrupted us. But how do you know about this world, huh?"
I gripped the first bastard's collar tighter, pulling him to my eye level. "Apologize to my wife. Now." He scoffed, blood on his lip. "Why should I? It's not my fault. But... if you want an apology, let's make it interesting." His lips curled into a wicked grin as he gestured toward his car. "Race with me. Win, and I'll apologize. But let's raise the stakes, shall we?"
I didn't like his tone.
"What stakes?" I asked, my voice already sinking into ice.
The man took a step closer, his eyes gleaming with something vile. "But if you lose, leave your wife with me for the night. Let me see what she's worth."
That was it. Rage ignited in my eyes. Without hesitation, my hands flew to the man's throat, choking the air from his lungs.
But then—her hand.
Firm, warm, grounding.
She placed it over mine, and even through the haze of rage, I heard her. Felt her. She pulled me back. Then she stepped forward. And when she spoke, her voice was like ice dipped in fire.
"Accepted. But if you lose, be a man of your word then."
The man chuckled darkly. "Oh, sweetheart, I can't wait to have you for the night."
I nearly lunged again.
"What the hell are you doing?" I growled at her, my voice low, barely holding back the fury. "Let me end him right here, right now."
Her hand slid to my chest—soft, commanding, and far more powerful than any chain.
"They're just reckless kids, Vincenzo," she murmured, eyes locked on mine. "Why don't we teach them a lesson?"
Her words sliced through my fury with seductive calm. And for her, I breathed. Slowly. Painfully.
"Fine," I muttered. "But I'm not letting this slide."
I pulled out my phone.
"Get me two cars. Right now."
The race was on.
Ten minutes later, our cars arrived. The tension in the air was electric, thick with adrenaline and the scent of burning fuel. Ten cars lined up at the start, engines running.
The signal fired.
Tires screeched. Engines roared. The others shot forward in a desperate rush for dominance. But Eva, me and? We didn't move. Not yet. We sat still, our fingers relaxed on the wheel, eyes locked onto each other. The chaos of the race unfolded ahead of us—reckless, messy, desperate We smirked. Let the kids play their little game first. Then, with a single glance, she winked at me. A silent message.
-"Let's slay together". She didn't need to speak.
A split second later, our engines screamed to life—unholy beasts unleashed into the night. The world snapped into a blur, lights smearing into streaks as the G-force slammed me against the seat. The air tasted of adrenaline and burning rubber. We weren't driving. We were hunting. One by one, the others fell behind, swallowed by the chaos of their recklessness. We didn't weave—we sliced through them like blades through silk, shadows fused with speed and smoke. I moved like a shadow cast by the machine itself, every turn, every swerve, an extension of thought. No hesitation. No fear. Just a purpose. We carved through the swarm of amateurs—reckless, desperate, trembling beneath the weight of speed they couldn't control.
Eva was beside me. She was the storm—wild, merciless, riding the chaos like a goddess of destruction. Together, we were untouchable. Until it was just three.
Her. Me. And him.
The one who dared to put his eye on her.
The city became a blur of steel and light, traffic just an obstacle course built for mortals. But we weren't mortal tonight. We were fire on wheels—serpents slithering through cracks too tight for reason, too dangerous for sanity. I could hear him—his engine straining, tires screaming to hold onto that lead.
He was fast.
But not fast enough.
The finish line glared ahead, drawing closer with every second.
And still, he held the front.
But Not For Long.
I looked toward Eva. She didn't speak. She didn't need to.
That smirk—sharp, deadly, electric—told me everything.
I nodded once.
It was time.
She peeled off to the right, her engine snarling louder as she found an opening—tight, risky, suicidal. But she took it. Because she wasn't just fast. She was fearless.
And then—
She made her move.
Her car lifted—launched—into the air like a war cry made flesh. The world held its breath as she flew over him, a streak of light and madness against the night sky. For a heartbeat, she hung there—untouchable, glinting under the city's neon like a falling star.
And then—impact.
Her tires slammed down beyond the finish line.
Silence.
Then—shockwaves.
The crowd didn't cheer. They stared, mouths open, hearts thundering.
She'd won.
We had won.
But this wasn't a victory.
This was a declaration—a warning written in speed and steel.
We weren't racers.
We were the end.
I stepped out of the car, the engine ticking softly behind me, cooling after the fire we had just unleashed. My breath was steady. My heartbeat wasn't.
She stood near the finish line—my storm, her body humming with adrenaline, her smirk carved like a blade. Streetlights kissed her skin, and her hair fluttered in the night wind like fire waiting to ignite. Every inch of her radiated victory—raw, dangerous, divine.
The man we'd crushed stood still, frozen in the moment, color drained from his face, pride crumbling like ash in a storm. He looked at her, and I saw it—The precise moment he knew defeat had always been inevitable.
I walked toward her slowly, every step deliberate. The crowd whispered, trembling in awe and disbelief — but they didn't matter. Not now. Not with her standing there like that, stealing the air from my lungs. When I reached her, I didn't hesitate. I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her flush against me, and whispered low against her ear—
"Yeah... that's my girl."
My voice was hoarse, thick with something feral and proud, because hell, she didn't just win.
She owned the night.