Rowan’s car shot forward like a bullet, weaving aggressively through the sparse late-night traffic. He overtook every slower vehicle in his path with sharp, confident maneuvers—cutting left, then right, tires gripping the asphalt perfectly. The engine roared louder with each gear shift.
Behind them, Soran’s frown deepened. His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. He mirrored every move, pushing his own car to its limit, closing the gap inch by inch. Headlights locked on Rowan’s taillights like a predator tracking prey.
“Faster, Rowan!” Isla urged, her voice a mix of excitement and nerves.
Rowan let out a deep, amused laugh. “Oh no—you want faster?”
He slammed the accelerator down hard, blowing past the speed limit. The car surged, wind whipping through the slightly cracked windows.
