ZAYAN — POV
The private track is quiet in that expensive way. No crowd noise. No cameras. Just asphalt stretched wide and clean, floodlights humming overhead, cars lined up like weapons waiting to be chosen.
We're leaned against the hoods like we own gravity.
Because we do.
Eshan's tapping his phone, bored already. Razmir's sitting on the hood of his car like rules are suggestions.
Rafaen's arms are crossed, calm, observant. Izar's standing a little apart, posture sharp, eyes scanning like something might explode if he blinks wrong.
I'm leaning against mine, keys heavy in my pocket, watching the stadium doors.
She's the one who called us here.
That alone is suspicious as hell.
The door opens.
And there she is.
Black jacket. Hair tied back. Face calm in that way that never means calm. There's a key dangling from her fingers, swinging slow, deliberate, like she knows exactly what that motion does to the room.
She stops a few steps in front of us and crosses her arms.
Eshan straightens immediately, interest lighting his face. "So," he says, dragging the word out, playful. "What's the show, baby?"
She tilts her head, eyes flicking over all of us like we're mildly disappointing furniture. "You guys are absolute shit, you know that?"
Razmir chokes on a laugh. "Damn. Good evening to you too."
"No," she continues, voice sharp, clean. "No patience. No chill. No ability to teach without acting like you were born holding a steering wheel. How the hell are you maintaining a fucking billion-dollar empire like this?"
Eshan blinks. "Excuse m—"
Razmir lifts a finger. "Technically, I don't have a billion-dollar empire in my name. It's a family business."
She doesn't even look at him. "Shut up."
I don't stop the smirk this time. It slips out on its own.
She notices.
Her gaze flicks to me for half a second. Just long enough. Something electric snaps low in my chest.
"Do you know how fucking torturous those lessons were?" she goes on. "Hours of yelling. Mocking. Threats to my life. Emotional damage. Physical damage. Vehicular trauma."
"That's our dialogue, babe," Eshan says, offended but amused.
She side-eyes him slow. Surgical. The kind that makes men rethink their existence.
Eshan chuckles anyway, because he has a death wish. "Okay, okay. So what's this about?"
She lifts the key, finally stilling it in her palm. A slow smile creeps across her mouth. Not sweet. Not playful.
Dangerous.
"Show us what you got," Eshan says, grinning.
Her smile sharpens. "Gladly."
She turns without another word and walks to the car she's chosen.
Mine.
My jaw tightens before I can stop it.
She slides into the seat like she belongs there. Like the car recognizes her. The door shuts with a solid click that echoes across the stadium.
Then the engine turns over.
It doesn't purr.
It snarls.
The sound punches the air, low and aggressive, vibrating straight through the concrete and into my bones. Razmir straightens. Eshan's grin drops just a little.
She eases forward.
Slow.
Controlled.
Then she guns it.
The car swings wide, tires screaming as she throws it into a drift that shouldn't be that clean. Smoke explodes around us, thick and biting, curling up our legs and blinding the lights for a second.
She circles us.
Once.
Twice.
Perfect control. Throttle feathered like she's been doing this for years, not weeks. The car obeys her completely, sliding where she wants, snapping back when she tells it to.
My pulse kicks hard.
This isn't beginner luck.
This is instinct waking up.
"Holy shit," Razmir breathes, laughter gone. "She's fucking insane."
Eshan's staring now, mouth open, awe replacing arrogance. "That's not okay. That's actually not okay."
Rafaen's smiling. Slow. Proud. Like he saw this coming.
Even Izar, standing meters away, has a faint smirk tugging at his mouth, eyes tracking her movement like he's watching a weapon being tested.
She cuts the drift sharp, smoke rolling past us in a hot wave, then slams the brakes and stops dead in front of us.
The window rolls down.
She flips us off.
All of us.
Then she laughs and kills the engine.
When she steps out, it's like the air shifts. There's a glow on her, raw and feral, the kind people get when they unlock something in themselves they didn't know was there. Her breathing's fast. Her eyes are bright.
Adrenaline looks good on her. Too good.
Eshan starts clapping, slow at first, then loud. "Okay. Okay. That was insane."
Razmir joins in, shaking his head. "I take back at least three of the things I said to you."
Rafaen nods. "You were right."
She smirks, chin lifting. "I said I'd fucking drift."
Eshan yawns, exaggerated, stretching like a cat. "Cool. Now I can go, right?"
Her smirk drops.
The temperature in the stadium plummets.
She turns to him slowly. "Did you just yawn?"
Eshan meets her stare, unbothered. "Yeah. I did."
"Excuse me?"
"You're excused."
Silence.
Pure, lethal silence.
Her jaw tightens. Her hands curl. That calm, glowing energy snaps straight into rage, sharp and fast.
She spins on her heel and storms back toward the stadium door, boots hitting concrete like she's declaring war on the ground itself.
The rest of us watch her go.
No one stops her.
Eshan watches her back, then grins. "Worth it."
Razmir laughs. Rafaen shakes his head. Izar exhales through his nose, amused despite himself.
I don't laugh.
I'm still staring at my car.
At the tire marks she left behind.
Fuck that was hot.
___________________
ARSHILA — POV
I storm off like the ground personally offended me.
My boots hit concrete hard, every step loud, aggressive, dramatic as hell. My chest is still buzzing from the drive, from the drift, from the fucking audacity of that yawn.
My hands are shaking and not in the scared way. In the say one more thing and I'll commit a felony way.
I hear them laughing behind me.
Of course they're laughing.
How fucking dare they.
I did everything right. I learned. I didn't quit. I ate humiliation for weeks, swallowed frustration, let them bark at me like I was stupid when I wasn't. I wasn't.
I tried my best. I always do. And I nailed it. I fucking nailed it. And that asshole yawns like I just showed him a cat trick.
My throat burns.
I blink hard and keep walking.
Then a sharp whistle cuts through the air.
I don't turn.
"Come back here, baby," Eshan calls, voice lazy, smug, begging to be murdered.
I flip him off without looking and walk faster. My heart is pounding now, anger stacking on anger, thoughts tripping over each other. I don't need their approval. I don't need their claps. I don't need—
Footsteps.
Fast.
Before I can react, a hand wraps around my wrist.
Firm. Warm. Unyielding.
"What the—" I snap, twisting. "Let go of me."
Eshan's grip doesn't budge. He's grinning down at me like this is fun. Like he isn't seconds away from losing teeth. "Where you going?"
"None of your business," I shoot back, yanking again. Nothing. He's fucking built like a wall and he knows it.
He tugs once and my body follows because physics is a traitor. "You're being dramatic."
"I am being right," I hiss, digging my heels in. He drags me anyway, back toward the track, my anger spiking into something sharp and shaky.
"Eshan, let me go," I warn. "I swear—"
"Shut up," he says lightly, already pulling me toward a side door I didn't even notice before.
The door opens.
Darkness.
He pulls me inside and the door slams shut behind us.
Silence drops like a fucking trap.
The air changes. Cooler. Still. My breath sounds too loud in my ears. I yank my hand free finally and step back, pulse hammering.
"Eshan?" I snap. "Don't play. Where are you?"
Nothing.
My stomach twists. Not fear exactly. Something closer to anticipation dressed up as anger. I hate that my body reacts like this. I hate that silence with him never means nothing.
"Seriously," I say, louder now. "This isn't funny."
A beat.
Then—
A loud crack.
Lights explode on.
Confetti rains down from nowhere, silver and gold, filling the space in a ridiculous, over-the-top assault. I freeze mid-step, brain short-circuiting as shapes come into focus.
Four figures standing in front of me.
Grinning.
Behind them—
Four cars.
Not lined up. Presented.
My breath leaves my body in a sharp, ugly sound.
"What," I say, stupidly. "The fuck."
Eshan throws his arms out. "Surprise."
I stare. I actually fucking stare.
A Porsche 911, sleek and lethal, Razmir leaning casually against it like it's not worth more than most people's lives.
A Ferrari beside it, red and obscene, Rafaen standing proud, eyes soft like he's waiting for my reaction.
A Lamborghini, aggressive and loud even while silent, Eshan's obvious choice because of course it is.
And then—
The Bugatti.
Black. Perfect. Unapologetic.
Zayan stands in front of it, hands in his pockets, watching me like he's measuring something inside my chest.
My vision blurs.
"No," I say immediately, stepping back like they're about to bite. "Nope. No. This is not happening."
Eshan frowns. "Why are you backing up?"
"What is this?" I demand, voice cracking despite myself. "What the hell is this."
Rafaen speaks gently. "They're yours."
I laugh. It comes out wrong. Too sharp. Too fast. "That's not funny."
Razmir tilts his head. "We're not joking."
My heart starts doing something stupid and painful. "I don't deserve this," I say quickly. "I literally just learned how to not kill people with a car."
Zayan finally speaks, voice calm, grounding, dangerous in that quiet way. "You earned it."
"No," I snap, shaking my head hard. "No, I didn't. This is too much. This is insane. A fucking Porsche? A Ferrari? A Lamborghini?" I gesture wildly. "And that?" I point at the Bugatti like it personally offended me. "That's illegal."
Eshan snorts and slides an arm around my neck, pulling me into a loose headlock. "Don't be dramatic."
"I will bite you," I warn, voice muffled against his chest.
"You won't," he says cheerfully. "You're too shocked."
He's right. I hate that he's right.
My chest feels tight. My eyes burn. Confetti sticks to my hair and jacket and suddenly I'm overwhelmed in the dumbest way possible. I blink hard, swallowing around the lump in my throat.
"This is too much," I repeat, softer now. "I don't need this."
Zayan steps closer. Not touching. Never crowding. His presence alone presses against me. "You don't need it," he agrees. "You wanted it."
That hits.
Hard.
Silence stretches, thick and heavy, broken only by the soft tick of cooling engines. My gaze drags back to the cars, to the reality of them, to what this means.
They believed in me.
The idiots.
I scrub my face hard, then look up, glare shaky but real. "You guys are the worst."
Eshan grins. "And you love us."
"I hate you," I say, voice hoarse.
Razmir laughs. Rafaen smiles.
Zayan watches me like he always does, eyes dark, knowing, unreadable.
I exhale, slow and shaky, adrenaline still humming under my skin.
It hits late.
That stupid, delayed crash after adrenaline wears off and reality taps your shoulder like hey, you survived, now feel everything at once.
My throat tightens before I can stop it. My eyes burn. My face does that ugly pre-cry thing where you know you're about to lose dignity in public.
"Fuck," I mutter, blinking hard.
Too late.
Tears spill anyway. Big, dramatic, zero warning. I sniff once, curse myself, then just give up and let it happen because apparently today is about extremes.
I wipe my face with the sleeve of my jacket and turn toward them with zero grace.
"Don't say anything," I warn, voice wrecked.
Then I march straight at the three of them with my arms spread wide like I'm about to tackle fate itself.
Eshan sees it coming and his whole body language changes. Immediate regret. He steps back half a pace. "Nope. No. Absolutely not."
Razmir lifts both hands, palms out, already laughing. "I refuse. I have a reputation."
Rafaen says nothing. He's smiling. Soft. Dangerous. Traitor.
I don't slow down.
I slam into them anyway, full-body, no apologies. My face presses into Razmir's chest, my arm hooks around Rafaen's side, and Eshan gets caught in the middle like collateral damage.
They don't hug me back.
Not really.
Razmir's hands land awkwardly on my shoulders like he's holding a bomb that might cry harder if mishandled.
Rafaen's arm comes around my back, solid but careful, like he knows exactly how much pressure not to use.
Eshan plants a hand on my head and immediately starts trying to push me away.
"I don't want to die today," Eshan mutters, struggling. "Please get off me. I didn't sign a will."
I laugh into Razmir's shirt, hiccupping mid-sob because of course that's how this goes. "Shut up," I choke. "You bought me a Lamborghini."
"That doesn't mean you're allowed to emotionally assault me," he says, still attempting escape.
Razmir snorts. "This is the most violent hug I've ever been part of."
Rafaen just chuckles quietly, his hand warm and steady on my back, like he's anchoring me without making a thing of it. That somehow makes me cry harder, which is rude of him.
I pull back finally, wiping my face aggressively. My nose is red. My eyes are puffy. I look like I lost a fight with my feelings and the feelings won.
"Don't look at me," I warn them.
Eshan points immediately. "I'm absolutely looking at you."
I flip him off again, reflex at this point.
Then my gaze slides to Zayan.
He hasn't moved. Not an inch. No teasing. No smile. No softening. He's watching me like this moment matters in a way he's not willing to explain. Something in my chest tightens again, different this time. Sharper. Quieter.
He lifts a brow slightly. "No hug for me?"
The question is calm. Casual.
It still hits like a loaded gun.
"No," I say instantly, too sharp, too fast.
The word snaps out of me before I can soften it.
His mouth curves.
Not amused. Not offended.
Knowing.
"Yeah," he says quietly, like he expected it. "I know."
That somehow makes it worse.
I look away before my face does something stupid again and turn to Izar instead. "I'll give you virtual hugs," I say, holding my arms out vaguely in the air. "From a safe distance."
Izar glances at Zayan, then back at me. "No need."
I blink. "Excuse me?"
He nods once, like that explains everything. "You're fine."
I laugh, surprised and warm and still half-emotional. "You're weird."
Razmir grins. "That's his love language."
Eshan finally frees himself fully and smooths his jacket like he survived a natural disaster. "Okay," he says, pointing at all of us. "Group emotions over. Before she cries again."
"I will cry again," I threaten. "I'm unstable."
Rafaen smiles at me, gentle and real. "You did good."
That lands soft. Deep.
I breathe out slowly, shoulders dropping, chest finally easing. The stadium feels warmer now. Safer. The cars gleam behind us like proof this actually happened.
Razmir claps his hands once. "So," he says. "Who's taking which car first?"
I wipe my face one last time and lift my chin, smirk creeping back where it belongs. "All of you are getting passenger seats."
Eshan groans. "I knew this was a mistake."
Zayan watches me, quiet and steady, something unreadable in his eyes.
For the first time all night, I don't feel like I have to prove anything.
I already did.