She was still in my passenger seat - hair messy from the hoodie, wedding makeup smudged, eyes darting like a hunted deer. The kind of girl you don't take home unless you want trouble.

Naturally, I took her home.

Not the kind of "home" with flowers on the porch and welcome mats. No. My world. The place where deals are made with a handshake or a gun, where money smells like gasoline, and where half the men have white powder on their noses by midnight.

A world full of men who race high on cocaine.

A world full of women who smile like angels and bite like devils.

A world full of things I'm not proud of.

As soon as we stepped into my loft - a sprawling open space above my garage, smelling faintly of motor oil, leather, and trouble - I saw her.

Caroline Cataline Carterson.

Tall. Perfectly put together. Eyes sharp enough to slice skin. My girlfriend - or whatever the hell we were calling each other this week. She was draped in silk, sipping champagne like it was holy water, and the way she looked at Violet made my stomach knot.

"Oh," she said, smile sweet but voice like venom. "You brought home... charity work."

A fling, right?

"Caroline," I said flatly, already annoyed.

"I mean, really, Vince. You're into strays now?" She tilted her head, eyes sweeping Violet from head to toe. "She's cute. In a... homeless prom queen sort of way."

I should've told her to shut up. I didn't. Instead, I left them - because if I didn't walk away, Caroline would push until one of us said something unforgivable.

I went to talk to Marco about the race schedule. Two minutes, tops. But when I turned back, Violet was gone.

And my gut told me she wasn't just wandering to the bathroom.

---

Violet Virgilson.

She was beautiful. The kind of beautiful that makes you want to stare and vomit at the same time.

Caroline Cataline Carterson. That's what she called herself. Like she needed the extra syllables to make her sound more important. She swanned up to me the moment Vincent left, smile fake enough to peel.

"Good girls coming to bad boys for hot sex, she whispered".

What!!? I exclaimed.

You heard me.

"You know who he is, right?" she said, swirling her champagne like she was narrating a murder podcast.

"I... just met him."

She leaned in, voice dropping low. "He's dangerous. Not the bad-boy-you-can-fix dangerous. The bury-you-in-a-field dangerous."

My stomach turned. "What?"

"He killed a man." She said it casually, like she was commenting on the weather. "And he races. High-speed, high-risk, high on adrenaline. A ticking time bomb with nice cheekbones."

He loves dangerous sports

My brain screamed at me.

V! What were you thinking following a man you know nothing about home?

I didn't have an answer. I also didn't have money, or a plan, or a clue. But I knew I wanted to leave.

"This place," I said slowly, "is... awful."

Caroline smiled like I'd just told her she was prettier than me. "Sweetheart, it's just getting started."

Nope. Not today, Satan.

I turned, found the nearest door, and walked out like my heels were on fire. My heart was pounding so loud I could barely hear myself breathe. I spotted a gate - big, black, heavy - and beyond it, freedom. Or at least distance from Vincent Virenson and his champagne-sipping viper.

A group of men stood near a row of bikes, laughing too loudly, eyes glassy from whatever they'd been snorting.

"Excuse me," I said, voice trembling but steady enough to pass for confidence. "Can I get a ride into town? I'll... pay you back, when I get there ".

The tallest one - tattoos crawling up his neck - grinned. "Oh, we'll take you for a ride, princess."

Something in his tone made my stomach drop.

Another man stepped closer, blocking my view of the street. "Pretty thing like you shouldn't walk alone. We'll keep you safe."

Hands. Too close. Breath hot against my cheek. My pulse spiked.

"No, I-"

One of them grabbed my wrist. Hard. My skin screamed.

And then-

"Let. Her. Go."

Vincent's voice. Low. Deadly.

The men froze. Slowly turned.

He was standing just inside the gate, leather jacket half-zipped, eyes like a loaded gun.

"Or what?" Tattoo-Neck sneered.

Vincent moved before the guy finished breathing. A blur of motion - fist to jaw, knee to gut - and Tattoo-Neck hit the pavement like a dropped sack of cement. The others backed off instantly, muttering curses as they disappeared into the shadows.

I was shaking. Not just from fear - from the realization that the man Caroline called a murderer had just saved me. Again.

"You have a death wish?" Vincent growled, stepping closer.

"I was leaving," I shot back, voice sharper than I felt. "Your girlfriend said you killed someone."

You are a murderer!

He stared at me for a beat, then smirked - but it didn't reach his eyes. "You believe everything she says? Cute."

"She also said you race high on adrenaline."

"That part's true," he said, brushing past me. "Come on. Before you find more new friends."

I hesitated. "Why should I go with you?"

He turned, walking backward now, grin flashing like the devil himself. "Because, Violet... you just walked into my world. And in my world, you either stay close to me-" His gaze flicked to the spot where Tattoo-Neck had grabbed me. "-or you don't survive it."

I swallowed hard. My feet moved before my brain decided.

And just like that, I followed him back through the gate.

My welcome to his world wasn't a handshake - it was blood on the pavement and danger in the air.

I should have run.

Instead, I stepped inside.