The rush hit me like I'd just sold my soul to the devil. That 666 kind of crazy took over, and the next thing I knew, I was throwing Chloe's Lamborghini into a drift like I was born in a fucking Fast & Furious movie.
I yanked the paddle shifter—click!—dropping a gear while my foot slammed the accelerator. The twin-turbo V12 screamed, the raw power vibrating through the chassis as I twisted the wheel. The rear tires bit into the asphalt for a second before breaking loose, sending us into a perfect sideways glide through the neon-lit city streets.
The whole damn world blurred, streaks of gold, red, and electric blue flashing across the tinted windows.
Inside, the cockpit was chaos—RPMs spiking, the digital HUD lighting up like a Christmas tree, the seatbelt sensors bitching at me with rapid beeps. Chloe yanked onto my arm, pressing herself against me like I was her last hope in this reckless reality.
Smart girl.
