The city blurred into streaks of neon and steel as Ethan twisted the throttle, the motorcycle snarling like a beast hungry for chaos. The night air bit against his skin, sharp and electric, but he welcomed it. New York traffic was a death wish—tight lanes, unpredictable cabs, and horns that screamed like sirens—but that was half the thrill. He wasn’t here to play it safe. He was here to feel alive.

Normally, she’d be with him. Her arms around his torso, clutching tighter with every burst of speed, her cheek pressed against his back as if she could slow his heartbeat with hers. But not tonight. Tonight, she had work, and Ethan had restlessness clawing at his ribs. So, he did the next best thing—hit up Maddox, his partner-in-bad-decisions.

The first corner nearly killed him. Rubber screamed against asphalt, the bike leaning just enough to kiss the edge of disaster before snapping back upright. Maddox’s laughter—wild and reckless—cracked through the roar of engines behind him. They were flying, and for a second, Ethan forgot about everything else.

Until the truck.

It barreled through the red light like a steel wall dropped from the sky. One second, the street was open; the next, headlights blinded him, too close, too fast. The world tilted. Tires skidded. The air tore from his lungs.

And then—impact.

The sound of Maddox’s voice was distant, drowned beneath the ringing in his ears, calling his name as shadows closed in and strangers rushed toward him. Ethan didn’t feel the pain yet—only the raw, electric hum of adrenaline burning through his veins.