Prologue — New York
The rain slid down the glass walls of my Manhattan penthouse.
Below me, the city never slept.
But tonight it was different.
Because three different worlds were about to collide.
I leaned against the railing overlooking my underground garage. Rows of machines stared back at me like sleeping predators.
The Nissan Skyline GT-R R34.
The Mustang I built for races that don't officially exist.
And the car that started everything.
I checked my phone.
A message from Marcus "Ghost" Vega.
Ghost:
"Boss… we got a problem."
I smirked.
"We always do."