The infotainment screen had been ripped out and replaced with a HUD rigged for telemetry, GPS overlays, and live diagnostics — because Eros wasn't a man who listened to Spotify in his cars. He measured them.
He pushed them.
He broke them.
Eros slid in, and for a moment the world outside ceased. The bolstered seat wrapped him like armor, the air smelled of ozone and fresh leather, and his reflection ghosted across the dash. He tapped the wheel, reading every control instinctively — brake-by-wire, hybrid deployment modes, track settings.
Every system spoke to him in a language only he was fluent in.
He smiled. Slow. Dangerous.
Amanda leaned into the open doorframe, eyes dark. "It's yours now. Every mile, every scream of the engine, every jealous look from the world outside. This is more than a car, Eros. This is… your declaration."
And for Eros — who knew every car, every engine, every secret under a hood — this was not knowledge. This was revelation.
