Maya still couldn’t believe any of it actually happened. The night. The way he touched her. The way her body responded like it had been waiting for him all along. She tried to contain her excitement when she was at home and around Himesh. Ever since she told him to back off Coyote, their relationship has become rigid.By the time she made it to work, her heartbeat still hadn’t completely calmed down.The city outside buzzed with its usual chaos, but Maya felt like she was floating through it. Every step to the EMT building felt lighter, like gravity had let her off the hook.Inside the staff locker room, she tried to act normal, she tried to keep that quiet grin off her face as she pulled her hair into a bun and changed into her navy-blue uniform. She was halfway through tying her shoelaces when someone crept up behind her.“Girl,” a familiar voice whispered dramatically, “you are trending.”Maya jumped and turned. “Jesus, Brienne!”Brienne was grinning wide, holding up her phone like

Isabella kissed Coyote for a while longer as he stood by the window, hands on the glass, as if the grand estate outside could steady him. They made out for a moment until he pulled away from the intense kiss. Isabella blinked, throat wet, thinking maybe he wanted to take off his clothes, but Coyote surprised her. He sat on the bed, shoulders hunched in a quiet way, and looked at his surroundings like he was trying to read it and commit it to memory. He turned his face up to her. "Can I get this house fully in my name? The question fell between them like a small, deliberate weight. Isabella smiled slightly-that soft, almost private smile that spoke of amusement and being touched at the same time-and asked, "Why do you ask this? Are you afraid I might take it away?" [I am always not on the loop with your plans. What are you up to now?] ‘Just observe, system. I am about to fully own this house.’ [But you can easily use Charisma Boost on her.] ‘Shut up and observe.’ He glance

Coyote had launched clean. Smooth. Within the first two laps, he’d taken the lead without even tapping into his system’s arsenal. It wasn’t luck, it was pure precision. The kind of instinct that came from years of running, surviving, winning. His car tore through the first straightaway like a bullet, every shift clean and measured. Behind him, headlights danced wildly as the pack fought for position, but he barely looked back. His focus was sharp, his lines perfect. But that control didn’t last long. By the third lap, Ghost was on his tail. The older racer’s car roared like an animal, dark, low, predatory. He wasn’t just chasing; he was hunting. Coyote caught the reflection of Ghost’s headlights closing in. Then came the first hit, a hard slam into his rear bumper. The jolt shook the steering wheel violently. Coyote corrected, grit his teeth, and kept steady. The crowd went wild. To them, it was all spectacle, screeching metal, drifting smoke, the thrill of chaos. But insid

The ride felt like somebody had stuffed Coyote into a coffin and decided to take it for a spin. The black hood was jammed over his head so tight he could smell his own breath bouncing back at him, warm and stale. With his vision gone, his ears had nowhere to hide. Every disgusting word pouring out of Vincent’s mouth hit him like a punch.Vincent and his men weren’t even trying to whisper. They were laughing loud and ugly laughs. Talking about some poor bastard they’d killed for skimming off their goods. Then Vincent drifted off into the part he clearly enjoyed more: what he did to the man’s wife afterward. The way he described her, broken, terrified, forcing her into prostitution and being her first customer made the guys howl like he’d just delivered the punchline of the century.Coyote’s stomach rolled. Every laugh felt like a slap. He wished to hell he could shove cotton into his ears, or punch Vincent right in the throat, or just be anywhere except in this car with these animals.

Aldo turned to face Vincent with a coldness that seemed to suck the warmth out of the room. It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t dramatic. It was worse than that, quiet, controlled, final. The kind of look that made grown men straighten their backs without realizing they were doing it. Coyote felt it before he fully understood it. A chill crawled down his spine, sharp and instinctive, like his body had picked up on danger faster than his mind could process it. This wasn’t a father scolding a son. This was a king reminding someone of their place. Vincent, to his credit, didn’t crumble. He stood his ground, shoulders squared, jaw tight, like someone who had rehearsed this confrontation a thousand times in his head but still wasn’t sure how it would end. “I guess what they are saying is true. The little power I gave you has gotten to your head, that is the only explanation for talking to me in that tone.” The words landed heavy. Vincent visibly staggered back a step, not from fear, but from the