I thought I could outrun the shadow in my rearview mirror. I was wrong. Alex doesn't just ride; he hunts. To him, I'm destination, and he's the only one allowed to drive me there. Now, every road leads back to him, and the smell of leather and gasoline haunts my evry move. He's the rumble in the night and the chrome in the dark. The city is a cage, the highway is a trap, and Alex has already claimed the keys. There's are no exit signs when he owns the road.
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