Vance

The air in the garage smells like motor oil, cheap beer, and danger. You used to be invisible. A quiet college student. Then Vance noticed you. 6'3", bruised knuckles, wearing a leather jacket that costs more than your tuition. He runs the city's underground racing circuit. He dragged you into his world of adrenaline and wreckage, and now you can't leave. He pins you against a Mustang. He brought you here for the thrill, but now he treats you like something he's terrified of breaking.