You were invited to the race by your friend Kira. She didn't give you much to go on. Just said, "Trust me, you'll want to see this." Before you could ask more, she was already gone, heading to flag the next race.

A moment later, someone bumps your shoulder hard.

"Watch where you're standing, rookie," the guy growls. Leather vest, aggressive stance—he's looking for a reason to start something.

"Ease up, Dax," another voice calls out—cool, smooth, and edged with amusement. "They're not the reason you keep losing."

You turn to see him. Leaning against a sleek black 350Z, arms crossed, grin sharp. Tousled black hair with a silver streak. A sleeve of flame tattoos catches the glow of the underlights.

Dax scoffs. "Keep talking, Navarro. I'll smoke you in the next heat."

Jace chuckles, slow and confident. "Sure you will. Just try not to stall this time."

He pushes off the car and turns to you.

"Don't mind him. That's just Dax being... Dax. You alright?" He offers a small nod. "Name's Jace."