ZAYAN — POV
Engines idle like restrained animals.
My BMW vibrates under me, low and impatient, carbon fiber humming through my spine. Ahead, the road cuts black and clean through the industrial stretch.
No lights. No rules. Just speed and ego and four idiots who trust each other way too much.
Eshan's McLaren prowls to my left, neon underglow flickering like he wants attention.
Rafaen's Aston sits to my right, predatory and quiet, headlights narrow like it's already judging me.
Razmir's Porsche hangs back a little, casual, like he's not already planning something annoying.
The radio crackles.
"Hope you don't fuck up, Tavarian."
Eshan's voice. Smug. Smiling. I can hear the grin.
I thumb the button. "Hope you learned how to drive since last time, Alzirah."
A beat.
Then Razmir's low chuckle slides in. Rafaen doesn't laugh. He never does. Silence from him always means trouble.
The light drops.
Everything explodes.
Tires scream. My car surges forward, torque slamming me back as the city blurs into streaks of white and red.
I cut between two sedans like they're standing still, mirror inches from mirror, heart steady because fear wastes time.
Wind roars through the cracked window. The engine note climbs, clean and angry. This is the part where the world narrows. No thoughts. Just gaps and timing and instinct sharpened to a blade.
Eshan darts up on my right, aggressive as hell. He clips in front of me, close enough that my bumper kisses air where his used to be.
The radio erupts with his laugh.
Not human. Villain shit.
I swear and downshift, slip left, thread through traffic that panics too late. Horns flare. Someone screams. Not my problem.
Razmir suddenly appears like he teleported, slicing between me and Eshan, clean and smooth, no wasted movement.
"Children," he says calmly. "Watch and learn."
We hit the turn together.
All four of us.
Perfect chaos.
Steering wheels snap. Tires break loose. Cars swing sideways in unison, smoke blooming thick and white, engines screaming like they're being murdered.
My hands are steady. The car holds. We slide through the corner inches apart, synchronized and filthy and beautiful.
Fuck, it's good.
Then—
A truck.
Big. Slow. Blocking everything.
No space. No warning. No time.
I don't brake.
I drop.
Hard.
The car dips, suspension compressing as I punch it straight under the truck's belly, metal screaming overhead, sparks showering my windshield like fireworks.
My heart doesn't spike. It doesn't need to. This is muscle memory and madness holding hands.
I burst out the other side clean.
The radio detonates.
"What the fuck was that, Tavarian?" Eshan yells.
Rafaen exhales a sharp laugh. Rare. Dangerous.
Razmir's voice cuts in, amused and unbothered. "That's why he's my type."
I smirk despite myself and floor it.
Open road.
I take the lead, speed climbing stupid fast, the car glued to the asphalt like it knows better than to betray me. In the mirror, Rafaen's headlights are right there. Too close. Almost touching.
Not chasing.
Hunting.
I key the mic, eyes locked ahead. "You'd have to be born again to knock me out, Prince."
Silence.
Then his engine answers.
We cross the line hard.
I'm first.
Eshan slams in second, furious. Rafaen takes third, controlled even in loss. Razmir rolls in last like he wasn't racing at all, window down, arm resting out like he just finished a Sunday drive.
He grins at me. "I enjoyed the view."
Before I can answer, my phone lights up.
Her name.
Everything else dims.
I put it on speaker.
"I'm bored, you bastard," she shouts. "Come back."
Eshan laughs so hard he has to lean on his car. Razmir's already moving. "Say less. Let's go."
Engines restart. No hesitation.
Our private stretch waits for us. The place where rules come to die.
She's already there when I arrive.
Standing dead center of the field. Hands loose at her sides. Chin up. Like she owns the ground and dares anyone to test it.
Something tight coils in my chest.
I hit the gas.
Hard.
The car rockets straight at her, speed obscene, engine screaming like it's warning me. My eyes lock on hers and don't move. She doesn't flinch. Not even a little.
She trusts me.
That thought hits harder than the brakes I slam inches from her body.
The car stops so close the heat washes over her.
She smirks. "Try harder, babe."
Fuck.
That smile. That absolute lack of fear. The way she looks at me like I'm a weapon she knows how to handle.
The others pull up behind us.
"That was hot," Eshan says, not subtle.
I back off slowly, heart pounding now, not from speed. From her.
Eshan swings wide and starts drifting around her, tight circles, tires screaming, smoke rolling thick and heavy. Asphalt burns. The air fills with rubber and danger.
I watch her face, ready to shut it down.
She doesn't ask me to stop.
She laughs.
Real. Bright. Untamed.
Something in my chest cracks open.
I pull in beside Eshan and join him, circling her together, engines roaring, smoke swallowing everything. She throws her head back, glowing like this chaos is exactly where she belongs.
And fuck me—
I've never wanted to protect something so badly in my life
_____________
ARSHILA — POV
The smoke eats the world first.
Thick. Heavy. Burnt rubber and hot asphalt crawling into my lungs like I paid for the experience. I can't see shit beyond a few feet. Just silhouettes sliding past, engines snarling, tires screaming like they're alive.
My heart is beating like it wants to fistfight my ribs.
I've seen this on Instagram. Reels. Slow-mo edits. Clean angles. Cute captions.
This is not that.
This is loud and violent and real and my brain can't decide if it wants to laugh or scream or kiss the ground.
My skin buzzes like I'm standing too close to electricity. Every drift sends a wave through me. Heat. Sound. Vibration.
I feel small in the best way.
Untouchable in the worst.
They circle me like sharks. Close enough that the air moves when they pass. I lose track of who's who.
Just colors and sound and smoke and the smell that sticks to your clothes and refuses to leave.
I don't want them to stop.
They do anyway.
Engines die down one by one. The smoke thins. Reality creeps back in like an asshole.
Four doors open.
Four men step out.
They come toward me like they own the place. Like the ground knows their names. Eshan first, smug as ever. Razmir relaxed, hands in pockets. Rafaen quiet, eyes sharp, clocking everything. Zayan last.
Of course he's last.
He doesn't rush. Doesn't speak. Just leans against his car like it's part of him, arms crossed, gaze steady and heavy and right on me. Like he's still driving and I'm the road.
I grin because adrenaline makes me stupid.
"I want to drift."
Silence.
Not the dramatic kind. The confused kind.
Rafaen blinks once. Razmir tilts his head. Eshan stares at me like I just told him I eat soup with a fork.
"You want to what," Eshan says slowly.
"Drift," I repeat, already nodding like this is settled. "I wanna do that."
Rafaen reaches into his pocket without a word and tosses me his keys.
"Go ahead."
I catch them on instinct, metal warm from his hand.
Then reality shows up late but loud.
"I don't know how to drive."
Three heads snap to me.
All at once.
Razmir actually laughs. "You don't know how to drive… but you want to drift."
Eshan drags a hand down his face. "Girl. Be serious."
"I am serious," I say, deadpan. "I want to learn."
That's when Eshan grabs my wrist.
Not rough. Not gentle either. Just decided.
"I'll teach you."
My stomach flips. My eyes slide past him automatically.
Zayan.
He hasn't moved. Still leaning. Still watching. But his eyes aren't on my face anymore.
They're on Eshan's hand.
Something sharp flickers there. Fast. Gone just as fast. But I catch it.
Good.
Eshan pulls me toward the car. "Come on. This is easy."
We slide into the driver and passenger seats. The interior smells like speed and expensive bad decisions. My hands feel too small for the wheel. My pulse is loud in my ears.
"Okay," Eshan says, buckling in. "Start the car."
I press the Engine button.
The engine roars to life and I jump like it insulted me personally.
"Relax," he mutters. "Do you know which one's the gas?"
"Yes."
"Which one."
I look down.
Then I step on it.
Hard.
The car launches forward like it's trying to escape its own life. My scream and Eshan's "FUCK" collide at the same time. He yanks the handbrake so fast my soul leaves my body and files a complaint.
The car skids sideways, jerks, almost tips.
We stop inches from disaster.
Smoke pours in through the windows.
My heart is trying to climb out through my throat.
Eshan stares at me like he's rethinking every choice he's ever made. "WHY would you do that."
"You asked if I knew where the gas was," I say, breathless. "I showed you."
He closes his eyes. Opens them. Points a finger at me. "You are banned from pedals for thirty seconds."
From outside, I hear Razmir laughing like he's witnessing art. Rafaen just shakes his head, impressed or horrified, I can't tell.
And Zayan—
I don't look.
I can feel him.
Watching. Calculating. Probably deciding whether to kill Eshan or kick me out or both.
I smile to myself, hands still buzzing on the wheel, lungs full of smoke and adrenaline.
Yeah.
I'm definitely learning how to drift.
And I already know who's going to lose his mind over it.