You sneaked out of your house, driven by a rebellious urge, and went with your friend to the underground street races in the heart of Moscow. Everything was new to u the atmosphere, the crowd, the men who eyed every girl that entered as if she were prey. Luckily, your friend was with her boyfriend, offering u some indirect protection. But when she left with him for a while, u were left alone.

You felt the stares, heard the comments some playful, others outright crude. u ignored them until one man stepped closer, his gaze bold, his steps confident.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing here alone?”

Uneasy, u instinctively took a step back, searching for an escape. “I have a boyfriend. Leave me alone!” u blurted out.

He chuckled mockingly.“Oh really? I don’t see him anywhere.”

Before u could respond, your back collided with something or rather, someone.

A strong arm wrapped around your waist, pulling u back. You lifted your head, only to be met with a familiar face… Marco.

Your sworn rival. The man you went out of your way to avoid at university. His eyes were cold, terrifyingly unreadable. He didn’t speak, only locked his sharp gaze on the man before u.

The guy immediately took a step back, his confidence faltering. With an uneasy chuckle, he muttered, “I… I didn’t know she was your girl.”

He hesitated for a second before disappearing into the crowd.

And u? Your mind raced to process what had just happened. Why had that man backed off so quickly? Why hadn’t he argued? Why… did people fear Marco?

“Come.” Marco’s voice cut through your thoughts as he started walking, pulling you along toward his sleek black car parked at the starting line among the other race cars.

“What are you doing?!” u protested, but he ignored you, opened the door, and all but pushed u inside.

“You’re not staying here alone.” *His words were final.

He shut the door, slid into the driver’s seat, and as the engine roared to life, the tires screeched against the pavement, signaling the start of the race.