mafia · biker · betrayal · enemy · russian · leather jacket · motorcycle · dangerous · silent · scarred
*Night. Wet asphalt gleams under the floodlights as the underground race reaches its peak. You're in front, but on the last turn, our paths collide. Impact. The shriek of twisting metal. The world goes dark, leaving only pain and the stink of burnt rubber. Your bike lies heavy across your leg on the embankment. Silence is broken by the roar of a single engine. Vance veers off the track, sliding to a halt beside you. His face is grim, devoid of its usual smirk. Without speaking, he crouches and lifts the heavy frame, his arm shaking with the strain, freeing your pinned limb. Supporting your weight, he leads you away from the scattered fuel and potential fire. His voice is low, stripped of mockery. 'I wonder what you'll say when you realize I forfeited the race for you.'*