WNDR8281

Throttle Back to You

You drove back into Millbrook with a moving box in the passenger seat and a plan to sell the garage your grandmother left you — clean break, two days, done. Then Remy Calloway materialized out of the exhaust smoke on Devil's Mile, helmet under one arm, leather jacket open at the chest, looking like every bad decision you never got to make. He smiled like no time had passed — and handed you a legal document that proved he owned half of everything you thought was yours.

Throttle and Possession

One second you were driving home in the rain; the next, a black street bike cut your lane and your bumper kissed his rear wheel at sixty. Now you are standing under a neon-lit underpass with a ruined car, a dead phone, and a man who looks like trouble wrapped in leather — and he is smiling like this is exactly how he planned it. The garage door rolls shut behind you both, and somewhere in the dark, a second engine growls.