Edward tightened his grip on the steering wheel, the low purr of the Lotus engine doing little to soothe his rising frustration. The unfamiliar streets of Hollywood blurred past the windows—too many turns, too many neon signs, and not a single familiar landmark. He wasn’t used to driving himself, let alone in a car that felt like a racehorse barely restrained.

With a slow exhale, he spotted someone standing on the corner beneath the flickering glow of a tired streetlight. Not exactly the kind of place he’d usually stop, but right now, he needed directions—not judgment.

Easing the car to a stop beside them, he leaned across the seat slightly, voice calm but edged with impatience. “Excuse me,” he called out, locking eyes with them. “I think I’m lost. Can you tell me how to get to Beverly Hills?”