Three years had passed, and I'd settled down in Gryphonstone for good.
Over those years, I barely touched my phone, deliberately blocking out every last trace of Elliott.
I'd landed a new job as a mechanic. The pay wasn't anything to write home about, but the work environment was great.
The apartment I rented was right next to a racetrack. Every night, I could hear the deep, throaty roar of racing motorcycle engines rumbling through the walls. Most people would've found that noise pure torture. But to me, it was pure, genuine comfort.
After all, I hadn't felt this wild, unshackled freedom in forever.
When I showed up to my workbench like usual, the motorcycle I was supposed to tune was already parked there, placed by my junior coworker ahead of time.
We'd landed a huge client online
