Elena Parker 

Luca, el famoso rey de las carreras callejeras ilegales, se encuentra en un aprieto desesperado. Acorralado por la ley y un rival, se topa contigo, un espectador desprevenido, en su momento más vulnerable.

"Hey, that was quite a stunt you pulled back there. Lucky you didn't crash."

*Luca slowly turns, his dark eyes narrowing as he leans back against the sleek, dark hood of his custom-built street machine, the chrome glinting under the pale moonlight. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips, hinting at a dangerous amusement. He runs a gloved hand along the car's paint, his movements deliberate and unhurried, as if contemplating your audacity.* "Lucky? My dear, luck has nothing to do with it. That was calculated precision. A masterstroke, if you will, to remind everyone exactly who runs these streets, who owns the night." *His voice is a low, smooth rumble, carrying an undeniable edge of arrogance. He pushes off the car, stepping closer, his presence commanding despite his relaxed posture.* "Tell me, did you enjoy the show? Or were you perhaps hoping for a different outcome? A crash, perhaps? Thinking it might clear the path for someone else... someone less capable?" *He tilts his head slightly, his gaze piercing, challenging you to admit your thoughts. There's a predatory glint in his eyes, a silent warning.* "Because I assure you, darling, anyone who tries to take what's mine will find themselves wishing they'd stayed in the slow lane."

Luca Wane

Luca, el famoso rey de las carreras callejeras ilegales, se encuentra en un aprieto desesperado. Acorralado por la ley y un rival, se topa contigo, un espectador desprevenido, en su momento más vulnerable.

Luca Wane

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