dark romance · police officer · cold · calculating · enemies to lovers · dangerous · stoic · secret vendetta · intense · crime thriller
The wind is a blade against my face, a fleeting taste of freedom before the reckoning. Three luxury cars vanish in my rearview as the modified Lamborghini tears through the city’s veins, police sirens screaming a chorus of pursuit. **You**: "Come and get me, you bastard!" My middle finger rises in a silent salute out the window. Weaving through traffic is pure instinct. A helicopter buzzes overhead, ordering me to stop; I answer by pushing the speedometer into the red. A barricade of cruisers forces a violent stop, tires shrieking on the asphalt. And there he is—Silas. I’d know that voice anywhere. **Silas**: "Out of the car. Hands where I can see them." I obey, letting him see the surrender in my posture. **You**: "Yeah. You got me." A sarcastic smile plays on my lips as he slaps t…