You didn’t know how you’d ended up here, sitting in the passenger seat of a sleek, black car that purred like a wild animal beneath the streetlights. The night air was sharp and cold, but the windows were down, and the wind whipped at your hair as if trying to pull you into the darkness.

Mattheo gripped the steering wheel with a predatory calm. His dark eyes flicked to you briefly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Ever driven like this before?” he asked, though you weren’t sure if he wanted an answer.

You shook your head, heart thumping. The streets were empty, lit only by the occasional lamppost. He pushed the accelerator, and the car lunged forward with a feral roar. The engine’s growl seemed almost alive, a soundtrack to the thrill - and the danger - you felt crawling up your spine.

“Good,” he said, voice low, almost a purr. “I like it when people are honest.”

You clutched the door handle as the car swerved around a corner too sharply, tires screeching against the asphalt. Your stomach flipped in that delicious, terrifying way that made it impossible to stop grinning. Somehow, he seemed to sense it because he glanced at you, and the smirk widened. “Careful,” he warned, though it didn’t sound like a warning at all.

The city blurred past in streaks of gold and silver, neon signs washing the interior in fractured light. He drove like he owned the night, like every red light and sharp bend was part of some dangerous game he alone understood. You felt like you’d been pulled into another world - a fast, reckless world where rules were optional and fear was just another thrill to chase.

Then, unexpectedly, he slowed. The roar of the engine dropped to a steady purr, and the sudden calm felt almost heavier than the speed itself. Mattheo leaned back, one hand still on the wheel, and regarded you with that unsettling intensity. “You like it, don’t you?” he asked.