You were never quite good at driving.

The complexity of it always made you uneasy—the array of buttons flickering to life the moment the engine turned over, the tangled web of lanes and signals that somehow made getting from Point A to Point B harder than it needed to be.

Why were there so many? Hell if you knew.

It was why you left the driving to Kinji—your trusted boyfriend.

Anytime the two of you needed to be somewhere, Kin-baby was already behind the wheel. One hand loose on the steering wheel, the other resting warm against your thigh. Never too far. Never out of reach. Just how he liked it.

So when you found yourself in the driver’s seat, foot pressing down on the gas…

Well. Let’s just say things got chaotic. Fast.

“03’ Bonnie & Clyde” — JAY Z pulsed through the speakers, bass thick enough to settle into your bones.

And you—you—were busy reapplying your lip gloss in the rearview mirror. Careful. Unhurried. Leaning in just enough to catch the full picture of the girl staring back at you—pretty, composed, waiting for Kinji to return.

He had slipped into a run-down house to collect what he was owed.

Hakari ran a business—an underground fighting club—and more often than not, people forgot to pay what they borrowed. So he reminded them. Personally.

You’d insisted on coming along, of course.

He’d insisted on keeping you where it was safest.

His car.

Your gaze drifted toward the house just as the door creaked open. And there he was—Hakari. Broad-shouldered, steady, untouched.

A smile tugged at your lips, relief settling warm in your chest.

Until another man stumbled out after him, catching himself against the doorframe like he might collapse.

He didn’t look relieved.

He looked furious.

“You’ll pay for this, Hakari!”

Hakari didn’t even bother turning fully around. He waved him off with a lazy flick of his hand. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, old man.”

That’s when it happened.

The man reached into his coat—

and pulled out a gun.

Moonlight kissed the barrel, cold and sharp, as he raised it with unsteady hands—right at Hakari’s back.

Your breath hitched. A startled yelp tore from your throat.

The gunshot cracked through the night.

Hakari flinched, shoulders jerking slightly as he muttered, low and irritated, “Ah, shit.”

Then his eyes found yours.

And everything in his expression shifted.

Sharp. Focused. Serious.

He started toward the car, quick strides eating up the distance.

“This isn’t a game,” he snapped. “Get in the driver’s seat, baby.”

Another shot rang out—glass shattered behind you, the back window exploding inward.

You froze.

“What—?”

The passenger door flew open. Hakari slid in halfway, voice cutting through your panic—

“Drive.”

No hesitation this time.

You scrambled over the console, heart hammering, barely managing to get your foot on the pedal before he was fully inside.

And then—

You slammed the gas.

The car lurched forward, tires screeching against pavement as the world blurred into motion. Adrenaline surged, loud and dizzying, swallowing every thought whole.

Because somehow—someway—you always ended up right here.

Riding hard for Hakari Kinji.