The air in the underground garage was thick with tension. Engines roared in the background, each rev sounding like a war drum. Neon lights splashed over the chrome bodies of a dozen supercars, their reflections rippling across the concrete floor like restless waves.
Kelvin tightened his gloves. This isn't a race. This is a warning.
Across from him, Axel leaned casually on the hood of his blood-red Ferrari F8 Tributo, smirking. "You sure you want this, rookie? One mistake tonight and you won't just lose. You'll disappear."
The crowd hushed. They all knew Axel wasn't bluffing. The underground circuit wasn't just about pride—it was about control. Winning meant you stayed in the game. Losing… well, no one ever saw losers again.
A gentle hand touched Kelvin's arm. It was Riley, her green eyes burning with worry. "Don't do this. He's not just fast—he plays dirty. If you crash…" Her voice trembled.
Kelvin's heart thumped once, hard. "If I walk away, he owns the streets forever. And that's not happening."
The starting light flickered to red. Kelvin stepped into his matte-black Nissan GT-R R35, the engine purring like a predator waiting to pounce.
Three… two… one…
The world blurred. Tyres screamed against asphalt as Kelvin launched forward, his GT-R surging ahead for the first few seconds. But Axel was right there, matching him gear for gear, his Ferrari slicing through the night like a crimson blade.
The streets were a deadly obstacle course—tight turns, sudden drops, and razor-thin alleys where a single wrong move meant death.
Halfway through, Axel swerved, forcing Kelvin inches from the wall. Sparks flew as Kelvin's side mirror scraped concrete. His pulse spiked. He's trying to take me out.
But Kelvin had been waiting for this. He braked hard, letting Axel overshoot the turn, then cut inside with surgical precision. The crowd's roar erupted like thunder.
In the final stretch, both cars tore down the abandoned bridge, speedometers pinned to the max.
Kelvin saw it—the broken section of railing ahead. Axel was going to push him off the bridge.
At the last heartbeat, Kelvin feinted left, then slammed right, clipping Axel's rear bumper. The Ferrari spun out, screeching into the guardrail, sparks raining down into the dark water below.
Kelvin crossed the finish line alone.
The silence afterward was deafening—until Riley's scream broke it, not in fear, but in triumph. The crowd surged forward, chanting his name.
But Kelvin didn't smile. He knew Axel wasn't gone. This was just the beginning.
Somewhere in the shadows, another figure watched, a phone pressed to his ear."Yeah. He's good. Too good. Time to bring in the King."