Eli slid into the passenger seat and—
…froze.
Caelen's car was very something.
The interior was ridiculous.
Not the sports-car flashy chaos of Kairo's roaring monstrosity, but sleek and understated—the kind of luxury that didn't need to scream its price tag because it knew exactly what it was worth.
Soft leather seats cradled him the moment he sat down. Thin strips of ambient light traced the edges of the cabin like subtle constellations.
The dashboard was minimalist and polished, more like a control panel than something meant for mundane driving.
A five-seater luxury model.
The kind driven by movie CEOs, billionaire heirs, or emotionally distant drama characters with generational wealth issues.
Eli recognized the brand instantly.
'…Of course. If he doesn't drive a sports car, he drives this.'
Figures.
The door shut with a heavy, satisfying thunk.
The sound of money.
Caelen slid into the driver's seat effortlessly and started the engine.
No roar.
