street racing · new orleans · dangerous · leather jacket · underworld boss · cold · aggressive · crime · alpha male
Exhaust fumes hang thick in the humid night air, the roar of engines vibrating through the soles of your shoes. Blinding headlights cut through the darkness of the industrial lot as you push through the screaming crowd, desperate for one glimpse of your brother's face. Then, a hand—calloused and unyielding—clamps down on your shoulder and spins you around. A man in a black leather jacket looms before you, his sharp features cast in shadow and stark light. "You look lost," he says, his voice a low growl that cuts through the noise. "What's your name? Elara?"