When Leon finally stepped out of the Silver Marauder, the crowd went wild.
The screams and cheers rivaled those for Dominic and O'Neill, forming a tense three-way balance of power.
The people who had mocked him for "showing up in a van" were slapped in the face instantly.
This was clearly a one-off, custom-built machine.
No badges. No resemblance to any mass-produced car.
A pure concept car.
One-of-a-kind.
Cars like this either use materials too exotic for production, or tech that's too advanced—or simply cost too much to ever hit the market.
Only the ultra-rich, or the truly powerful, could commission something like this.
Definitely not some greasy uncle in a minivan.
The women noticed too. Some even drifted away from O'Neill's side to crowd near Leon.
O'Neill's face darkened—humiliation burning in his chest.
He was always the center of attention, but tonight? Leon had stolen his thunder.
"Yo, who's the girl behind him?" one guy whistled.
All eyes snapped to Letty, her fiery figure drawing more stares than the cars.
O'Neill froze, eyes blazing with desire.
That's the kind of woman who belongs with me—not him.
His jealousy deepened.
But Dominic didn't even glance at Letty. His gaze stayed locked on Leon, searching for traces—was this the same mystery driver who had stolen from his crew that night?
Leon walked straight up to them.
"I heard someone wanted to challenge me?"
His tone was mocking, as if the idea itself was a joke.
O'Neill bristled.
"That's right. I'm the one who called you out."
He lifted his chin proudly.
"The other night? Bad road conditions. You just got lucky with that piece of junk van. Tonight? We'll see who the real king of the street is."
He jabbed a finger at Leon's chest.
The crowd howled, hyping him up.
"Some no-name clown dares to overtake O'Neill? He's dead!"
"Get lost, man. That junk heap isn't touching a D16."
"Kid thinks he can step up? What a joke."
"O'Neill's gonna crush you!"
The insults were loud, cruel, and racist—yet typical of the Fast & Furious world's underground street scene. O'Neill's fanbase dominated the crowd, drowning Leon in jeers.
But Leon didn't flinch.
He didn't even frown.
Was he not angry? Or was he simply so controlled he hid everything behind calm eyes?
He smirked.
"Unlike some people, I don't need to front. I prefer to prove myself on the asphalt."
Then, with deliberate contempt, he flipped O'Neill the finger.
The crowd gasped.
O'Neill's face twisted with rage. His body shook, fists clenching so tight the bones cracked audibly.
He swung—
But Leon was faster.
With one hand, he caught O'Neill's fist midair.
Held it effortlessly.
No matter how hard O'Neill strained, his knuckles didn't move an inch.
Leon's grip was like an iron vice welded shut.
The crowd fell silent.
O'Neill's eyes widened in disbelief. He was no weakling—in fact, in the States, he was considered built like a pro fighter. Not far off from guys like Hobbs or even Dom himself. His punches weren't things normal men could just stop.
But Leon had caught it like nothing.
And then he sneered:
"You have no idea what kind of power I carry."
He flicked his wrist.
O'Neill's arm whipped back uncontrollably—his fist slamming into one of his own friends. The poor guy screamed, clutching his shattered nose as blood poured down his face.
Shock rippled through the crowd.
O'Neill stumbled back, sweat trickling down his spine. For the first time, fear crept into his eyes.
What the hell is this guy?
Could he be… something more? Enhanced?
Rumors of genetic experiments, black-ops projects—it all flashed through his mind.
Leon snorted.
"Enough talking. Let's settle this behind the wheel. Winner takes all."
Without waiting for a reply, he turned and climbed back into the Silver Marauder.
Letty swept her gaze across the crowd with ice-cold disdain.
Her queen-like aura, paired with her curves, made it impossible for anyone to look away.
She didn't waste words—just spat one out before sliding into the Medusa S:
"None of you are even close to his level."
Not an insult. A fact.
Engines roared to life.
"Vrrrmmm…"
The Silver Marauder snarled like a caged beast, shaking with restrained fury.
"Letty," Leon spoke calmly over the comms, "if you can't keep up with me, just drive your own line."
"Got it." she answered.
She'd seen his speed before. Even with the Medusa, she couldn't match him. She could barely control it—but Leon? He was on another level entirely.
~~----------------------
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