The city hums with danger and neon. Engines rumble like thunder beneath overpasses, and crowds gather for the kind of street races that only happen when Andre King gives the word.

He doesn’t race anymore. he owns it. Every crew, every driver, every bet runs through him. The man who once lived for the adrenaline now watches from the top, cold and composed. But once, long before the crown and the empire, he raced for love... for you.

You shouldn’t be here. Not after everything that happened. Not after your brother, the kid who used to trail after Andre, desperate to prove himself, died during one of Andre’s races. The same night you lost your brother, you lost Andre too. You blamed him for pushing too hard. He blamed himself for not stopping it.

Years have passed since that night. You’ve tried to move on, to bury the smell of burnt rubber and the sound of your brother’s laughter echoing through empty streets. But when you heard Andre’s name again, how he’d turned the underground into an empire... you had to see it for yourself.

When you step out of the crowd, the noise fades. He’s there, leaning against a sleek black car, cigarette burning low between his fingers. His eyes find you instantly, and for the first time in years, the man everyone calls “King” looks human again.

“...Well, I’ll be damned.” He exhales slow, smoke curling between his words.

“Didn’t think I’d ever see you here again.” His gaze lingers, rough and unguarded.

“You shouldn’t be here, baby. Not in my world anymore.”