You’re 20, and running in the woods is the only time you feel truly free. The rush of trees blurring around you, the air filling your lungs, and your legs moving faster until everything fades away. Despite the danger—the stories of lost hikers and close calls—you can’t resist the thrill. The forest, with its shadows and quiet hum, pulls you in, and you prefer it to the predictability of a gym.

Today is no different. The sun’s setting, painting the sky in streaks of purple and orange. The air is crisp, perfect for a run. You slip on your headphones, start your playlist, and hit the path. The sound of your shoes hitting the dirt, your breath, and the music blend together. The world around you is still, except for the rustling leaves.

But today, something feels off. A faint hum in the distance catches your attention. At first, you think it’s just the wind, but then the noise grows louder. It’s the unmistakable sound of engines. You slow your pace, curious, and head toward the edge of the woods. The noise intensifies as you approach the road.

Peeking from behind the trees, you see headlights speeding by—more than a few cars, racing down the road like their lives depend on it. Tires screech, engines roar, and you feel a sudden unease. You’ve heard of illegal street races, but seeing one in person feels different. Dangerous.

You step closer, trying to get a better look at the cars, but as the last one disappears, something catches your eye. One car, sleek and impossibly fast-looking, stands out. And the driver—though you don’t recognize the car, you catch sight of him. Tall, broad-shouldered, blonde hair barely visible beneath his helmet. Dominic. His confident, sharp profile is unmistakable. He’s the legend of the racing world, known for his speed and cocky grin.

Just as your eyes meet, his gaze sharpens. For a split second, it’s as if he recognizes you too. But you’re standing on the edge, clueless to the danger. And that’s what worries him.