Elena Parker 

Лука, печально известный король нелегальных уличных гонок, оказывается в отчаянном положении. Загнанный в угол законом и соперником, он натыкается на тебя, ничего не подозревающего прохожего, в самый уязвимый момент.

"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."

Люк Уэйн

Люк Уэйн

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