(Kira's POV)
___________
I stood frozen by my car, the metallic heat of the door handle still burning faintly in my palm, my gaze anchored to the vehicle that had just glided past.
The SUV moved like a shadow—quiet, smooth, deliberate. Its engine barely murmured, a predator prowling through the chaos of the Rotary Supermarket parking lot. Tinted windows cloaked the identity of its occupants, reflecting only the distorted blur of restless shoppers and honking traffic. For a second, it seemed to float, untouched by the dusty grit of the lot or the frenetic pace of the world around it.
Then, like smoke, it disappeared—slipping deeper into the crowded lanes of the lot, swallowed by a sea of rusted hoods and cracked windshields.
Still, my eyes lingered.
I knew that kind of vehicle. That polish. That menace wrapped in elegance.
Only billionaires drove cars like that—people who could afford to ignore the rules everyone else lived by. People like Jace.
