At the last second, he yanked the wheel and slammed the throttle, drifting sideways across the tilted lane. The armored car committed fully—
—and hit the trigger point.
The road split open.
The trap activated.
The armored car disappeared.
No explosion. No second chance.
The remaining racers panicked.
Two tried to flank him, coordinating attacks, guns blazing. The black car weaved between them, forcing them closer together while accelerating into a brutal curve.
They clipped.
The curve finished them.
Another racer tried to ram him head-on.
The black car slammed into a drift so hard the tires screamed, skimming past as the other driver smashed straight into a rising barrier.
Now it was just him.
The final stretch went insane.
Every trap activated at once—spikes, shifting lanes, collapsing bridges, fire blasting across the road. The track threw everything it had.
The black sports car screamed through it all.
Drifting sideways through fire. Dodging falling steel. Launching off a broken ramp and landing hard, suspension screaming, engine howling.
Then—
The finish line.
The car crossed it in a blur of black and heat.
Silence.
Then the entire underground erupted.
Up in the private room, Neo slowly lowered his drink.
Luis leaned forward, eyes sharp now, smile dangerous.
"intresting " he said quietly,
The black sports car rolled to a stop.
Clean.
Untouched.
In another private room, it was unusually quiet.
"Oh damn—what happened to Brother Prim?" Michael blurted out, eyes wide.
James leaned back lazily, eyes narrowing a little. "He's more stressed than I thought."
"What do you mean?" Michael asked.
"He asked me for a cigarette."
Michael froze.
"…What?"
"Yeah," James said simply.
Michael straightened immediately. "Prim asked you for a cigarette?" He frowned. "That makes zero sense. He quit. Once Prim decides something, he never goes back on it. Ever. That's his principle." He turned sharply to Daniel. "So what messed him up?"
Daniel, who had been quietly sipping his wine, paused. His eyes flickered for half a second. Feeling the stare, he looked up. "What?"
"Why are you so quiet?" Michael pressed. "You know what happened to him, right?"
Daniel rolled his eyes. "How the hell would I know? You're talking like I'm his shadow." He leaned back. "If anything, I should be asking you. Don't you usually stick to him? Or were you too busy getting distracted by that girl—Winter or whatever?"
Michael opened his mouth… then closed it.
"I was busy, okay?" He frowned. "Wait—did something actually happen to him?"
Daniel took another sip of wine, unhurried. "I didn't hear anything about the Carter household."
Michael scoffed. "And if something did happen, do you think you'd hear about it?"
James shot him a glare.
Michael ignored it. "So what happened? Come on, I'm curious."
"You're asking like I'd magically know," Daniel said. "If the Carter family wants something hidden, it stays hidden."
"You're lying through your teeth," Michael snapped. "If anything goes down with an old-money monster like the Carters, families like the Night, Vega, Voss—and yours, the Kane—would know. Same level, same circle."
Daniel set his glass down with a soft clink. "Sure, information exists," he said casually. "But did you forget who Prim's father is?"
Michael stilled.
"Nathan Carter is basically his own galaxy," Daniel continued. "And his wife? Emily Hayes." He shrugged. "If those two decide to keep quiet, even their relatives won't hear a thing."
Michael narrowed his eyes. "So something did happen."
Daniel ignored that.
Instead, he tilted his head slightly. "Prim's sickness is acting up," he said lightly. "Aren't you going to go keep him company?"
That worked.
Michael clicked his tongue and stood up. "Yeah, yeah. I'll check on him."
He walked out.
James watched the door close, then let out a low chuckle. "You dodged that nicely."
Daniel lifted his glass again, expression unreadable.
"You know," James said lazily, "Michael can actually be smart when he wants to be. Even I didn't know you were hiding something."
Daniel chuckled. "I didn't tell him. Why do you think I'd tell you?"
"Tch." James clicked his tongue. "Figures. I'm clearly ranked lower." He sighed dramatically. "You made excuses to distract him instead of telling the truth, but with me? You just straight-up say no. No cushioning, no pity. Ever heard of kindness?"
"Get used to it," Daniel said calmly. "You'll be seeing a lot of double standards from me."
James pouted. "Wow. Heartless."
---
Prim stepped out of his car, and the entire garage fell silent.
People froze. Mouths went slack.
He climbed onto the hood like he owned the place, a cigarette between his fingers, smoke curling lazily into the air.
"That damn kid!" the manager snapped, face red. "He killed my top player!"
He was about to storm over when his men grabbed him.
"Boss, wait! What are you doing?" one whispered urgently. "If you touch him, you might alert the higher-ups."
"Nonsense!" the manager barked. "You think they'd care about some puny brat?" He shoved his men aside. "I lost hundreds of millions in betting money because of him! Doesn't he know who I am? I manage a side branch of the Blaze family! Even top businessmen give me face!"
He was just about to move when, from the corner of his eye, he saw someone walking toward Prim.
Security stepped forward to block the newcomer.
The man calmly raised a card.
Gold.
The highest level.
A card money couldn't buy. Connections couldn't touch. Only power and prestige.
And the guy holding it was young.
Even worse—he clearly knew Prim.
The manager coughed, suddenly turning away. "Ahem. Forget it."
His men blinked. "Boss? Aren't you going to scold him?"
"Scold who?" the manager said loudly. "Why would I scold anyone? He did nothing wrong." He waved his hand. "I'm not going to act like a child over money. How much is money, anyway?"
His men stared at him.
He noticed their looks and snapped, "What are you staring at?"
One of them muttered, "Is it because of that guy with the golden card—"
Smack.
"Don't talk too much!" the manager snapped, slapping the back of his head. "Who's afraid? If you hadn't stopped me earlier, I would've shown him!"
He huffed, turning on his heel. "Let's go."
And just like that, he left—bragging all the way out.
Michael walked up to Prim and casually took the cigarette from his fingers, putting it in his own mouth.
He exhaled slowly. "Damn. It's been a long time since I smoked. Seriously, why did I even stop?"
Prim glanced at him and snorted. "Give me back my cigarette."
"I already put it in my mouth," Michael said lazily. "If you want it back, just say you want to kiss me. No need to be shy."
Prim stared at him for half a second. Then—
"Fine," Prim said calmly, grabbing Michael by the collar and pulling him closer. "I want to kiss you. Come."
Michael's soul nearly left his body.
Just as their faces got dangerously close, Prim smoothly took the cigarette from his hand and pushed him away lightly.
"—Fuck!" Michael clutched his chest. "My straight life just flashed before my eyes. Brother, don't do that again. You almost killed me."
"Aren't you the one who asked for a kiss?" Prim tilted his head.
"I was joking!" Michael said quickly. "And anyway, I didn't want you smoking. It's disturbing—especially when you swore you wouldn't. You don't break promises."
"I never promised anyone anything," Prim replied, rolling his eyes.
"Exactly," Michael said, stealing the cigarette again. "You take your word seriously. So what's wrong with you today?"
"Nothing," Prim said, turning his face away. "I just felt like doing something."
Michael sighed. "Right. Your sickness acted up again. You shouldn't have driven. What if you decided to drive off a cliff or something?"
"That won't happen," Prim said flatly. "I don't want to die."
"Sure," Michael scoffed. "And yet at the track you were basically playing How to Die While the Universe Tries to Save You."
"I'm stressed," Prim muttered.
Michael took another drag.
Prim raised an eyebrow. "Wow. Smoking in front of me? Didn't you just lecture me? Double standards much?"
"I don't smoke often," Michael defended. "I just wanted one drag. It's not like I went to rehab at a young age like someone." He paused. "Also, I don't smoke because Daniel hates the smell. He hates any substance, actually—yet he's a chronic drinker. Total hypocrite."
Prim lifted a brow. "And here I thought you quit for me, so I wouldn't relapse. Turns out Daniel ranks higher."
Michael froze.
"…I never thought of it that way," he admitted, running a hand through his hair.
"Obviously," Prim said dramatically. "You don't do a lot things you usually do when it comes to Daniel. You're scared of him or something like you listen to him."
"I do!" Michael snapped. "He doesn't scold you directly, but every time he opens his mouth it feels like he's stabbing you verbally. And my dad didn't even send me to military school because of him. I have no choice—I'm a beggar! And anyway I don't really quite everything I just hide and do it "
Prim laughed just as a car rolled up beside them.
The window slid down.
"Looks like you guys are having fun," Luis said, smiling. "Did I interrupt?"
"Yes," Prim replied immediately.
Luis chuckled. "Wow. It's only been, what, two or three days since we met? And I'm already seeing a new side of you. Feels like the beginning of a beautiful journey between us."
"You're giving me goosebumps," Prim said. "Get lost."
"Why?" Luis grinned. "Want alone time with your boyfriend?"
He glanced at Michael, who was quietly smoking and watching them.
"So what if he is my boyfriend?" Prim tilted his head. "You hate gay people?"
"Hate is a strong word," Luis said lightly. "See you at the race track."
He drove off.
"…That guy gives me dangerous vibes," Michael muttered. "Like a psychopath."
"You don't look scared," Prim said.
"I don't know why," Michael admitted. "Feels like I'm used to it." He waved. "Anyway, good race. Win."
Prim laughed. "Okay, baby."
Michael shuddered. "I'm going to throw up."
He turned and walked away.
---