Coyote spent the rest of the day settling into the Nakamura Racing garage. The place was alive in a way that reminded him of a beast breathing, air compressors hissing, drills whining, the thump of tires being dropped into stacks. The smell of motor oil clung heavy to the air, mixing with burnt rubber and sweat. Every corner buzzed with motion, and though part of him wanted to just zone out and lose himself in the chaos, he forced himself to pay attention. He couldn’t afford not to.One by one, he met the crew. Some were older guys with hands calloused like tree bark, their fingernails blackened by years of grease. Others were young, jittery with ambition, eager to prove themselves. Then there were the engineers, who seemed to speak in their own language, numbers, ratios, graphs. Coyote didn’t pretend he understood half of it, but he asked questions anyway. He listened. He laughed at their stories, and admitted what he didn’t know. People respected honesty more than fake confidence. H

Coyote couldn’t stop replaying the encounter with Valentina in his head. Her sharp tongue, the way she had dismissed him without a second thought, it stung worse than he wanted to admit. He had been insulted before; hell, he grew up hearing worse from people who never believed he’d amount to anything. But Valentina’s rudeness? It wasn’t just an insult. It was definitely a challenge.The thought of it lingered like smoke he couldn’t wave away, clinging to his mind as the garage quieted down for the night. By the time he finally looked at his phone, it was past 7 p.m. The mechanics were locking up tools, the faint smell of grease still heavy in the air. He wiped his hands on a rag and called it a day.“Heading out?” Rudy’s voice broke through his stormy thoughts.“Yeah.”Rudy leaned against a toolbox, grinning. “Are you coming early to training tomorrow?”Coyote hesitated for a second, then smirked. “I’ll be here early. Earlier than anyone. I’m gonna train harder than I’ve ever trained

[Why is this guy so hung up on your apartment? He has called it a dump four times now.] ‘I guess he either hates it or he’s roasting me.’ Coyote forced a half-smile. Vincent still lingered in the doorway, clearly expecting an answer. The last thing Coyote wanted was to push his buttons again, not after seeing how fast the guy’s mood could swing. He shrugged. “I had a lot of debts, a mountain of bills. Most of the fifty grand went into clearing that. That race was my last shot at climbing out.” Vincent’s expression softened for half a second before twisting back into that mocking grin. He chuckled. “So it was do-or-die for you.” “Yes.” Coyote held his gaze, hoping Vincent would finally take the hint and leave. But instead, Vincent’s voice spiked with sudden intensity. He slapped his palm against the doorframe, startling even his own men. “Wait. You mean to tell me you drove like that because you didn’t care if you lived or died? You were fucking suicidal, weren't ya?” The words

“Are you sure she would show up?” Diana’s voice carried through the polished oak boardroom, sharp and laced with impatience. The middle-aged woman sat at the far end of the long rectangular table, her gray pantsuit neat and pressed, but the way her fingers tapped against the table betrayed the storm inside her.Around her sat six others, five men and one young woman, all dressed in immaculate corporate attire. Their faces were a mix of confidence, arrogance, and caution.Donald, a broad-shouldered man with thinning hair, leaned back in his leather chair with a smirk. “Calm down, Diana. Don’t be so impatient. Of course she’ll show up.”Diana turned to him, eyes narrowing. “Donald, I don’t trust her. She might pull one of her tricks again—say this meeting was too impromptu or that she never got the email. Isabella is cunning and slippery, you of all people know that.”Her words hung in the air like smoke. The room went quiet for a moment, the kind of silence that came when everyone agre

They hadn’t been on the road long when Maya broke the silence. The city lights reflected faintly in the windshield, making her face glow in soft flickers. “My cousin isn’t always like that,” she said quietly, her voice carrying an edge of embarrassment. Coyote glanced at her from the driver’s seat, one hand steady on the wheel. “Like how?” She shifted, tugging at the hem of her gown as if she wanted to crawl out of it. “Extra flirtatious,” she admitted, the words sharp but colored with shame. Coyote chuckled low in his throat, easing the tension. “Oh, you caught that? I was starting to think it was just me seeing things.” That earned him a small laugh. She pressed her hand to her lips, her shoulders relaxing just a little. “I just hope you weren’t uncomfortable in my house?” For a beat, he didn’t answer. His mind twitched when the system’s voice broke through. [Don’t tell her the truth. Just say what she wants to hear.] His jaw flexed. Don’t tell me what to do. I can