Demon on the Track

Noah's phone buzzed with a notification just as he was getting ready for the race. He glanced at the screen, and a number caught his attention—$72,000, accredited to an account ending in xx04.

For a moment, he furrowed his brow in confusion. Then it hit him: An's Gourmet. That was the weekly profit from the Michelin-star restaurant he owned.

Noah chuckled to himself. "Well, I guess that's lunch sorted for the next year." He pocketed his phone, shifting his focus back to the race ahead.

About 20 to 25 minutes later, everything was finally set for the race. Jackson approached Noah with a wide grin. "Alright, Noah, it's time. Head over to the starting line with your Lykan."

Noah nodded, sliding into the driver's seat. The sleek leather hugged him as he gripped the wheel, his heart already starting to race.

The Lykan purred as he started the engine, the growl of its V6 twin-turbo engine sending shivers through him.