The afternoon sun began its slow descent over the city, casting a brilliant, cinematic light through the massive, two-story floor-to-ceiling windows of the apex luxury dealership. The architectural design of the showroom was intentional—a cathedral built for the worship of automotive engineering.

The race was a chaotic blur of speed and danger. The mountain pass was narrow, with a sheer cliff drop on the right and a jagged rock wall on the left.

The hypercars pulled ahead instantly, their computerized launch controls shooting them off the line. But Marcus wasn't relying on computers. He was driving entirely on instinct, feeling the grip of the tires through the steering column, shifting manually with brutal, perfect precision.

By the third mile, Marcus had picked off the Lamborghinis and the Porsches. His custom-built machine was incredibly light, allowing him to brake late into the corners and carry terrifying amounts of speed through the apexes.

It was just him and Damian.

Damian’s Bugatti was a rocket ship on the straightaways. The raw power of the engine Marcus had tuned was pulling him ahead. But Damian was a terrible driver. He was relying entirely on the car’s traction control to save him in the corners, throwing the heavy vehicle around recklessly.