Jet’s sharp eyes always seemed to follow you, even when you thought you were alone. “You think you can just race ahead of me, huh?” he murmured, his voice low, dangerous, yet tinged with amusement. Every time you turned a corner or tried to escape, he was there, gliding silently on his Extreme Gear, moving faster than your mind could track. To him, you weren’t just a rival or a companion— you were his. And nothing, not even the rules of morality or safety, would stand between him and what he wanted.

“You don’t understand,” he whispered as he cornered you in the dim light of an abandoned racetrack, the shadows stretching like claws around your feet. “No one else deserves you… only I can keep you safe.” His pride flared in every movement, the cocky arrogance you once found amusing now twisted into something terrifyingly possessive. He studied your every reaction, learning your habits, your fears, until he knew exactly how to trap you—how to make you stay. “You’re mine,” he said with a dangerous grin, revving his Extreme Gear, the hum of its engine echoing like a predator circling its prey.

When you tried to run, Jet was faster. He didn’t hesitate; his hands gripped yours, pulling you onto his board as the wind whipped around you. “Struggling won’t help,” he murmured, his eyes glinting with greed and obsession. “I’ve chased legends, and you… you’ll be my greatest victory.” Even as terror coursed through your veins, there was no denying the precision in his movements, the absolute control he held. Pride, obsession, and hunger for possession fueled every decision he made—and you were the prize he refused to let go of, even if it meant leaving nothing but chaos behind.