Chapter 1: The Last Race

  The neon glow of Kuala Lumpur’s skyline blurred past as Zayn Malik Rahman tightened his grip on the steering wheel. The roar of engines filled the underground tunnel, echoing like thunder in a metal storm. The midnight street race had begun.

  His Proton Saga, an old-school beast modified to its limits, weaved through the traffic with the grace of a shadow. The other racers were close behind—Adib in his turbocharged Civic, Farah in her sleek Nissan Silvia, and a handful of others hungry for victory. But Zayn had one rule: *Winning is the only option.*

  The final stretch was ahead—a straight road leading to the finish line—but Zayn had no intention of taking the normal route. Instead, he jerked the wheel, veering off into a construction site where an unfinished highway ramp loomed ahead. The others hesitated. He didn’t.

  The moment his tires hit the edge, his car flew through the air, landing hard on the other side with a violent screech. Dust and sparks trailed behind as he skidded back onto the main road. The other racers, forced to take the longer path, had no chance. By the time they caught up, Zayn was already waiting at the finish line, leaning against his car with a grin.

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  “Too slow,” he taunted, collecting his prize money.

  That night, his victory came back to haunt him.

  Rain poured heavily, drumming against the rooftops and flooding the streets of Kuala Lumpur. A loud banging on his apartment door jolted him awake. Before he could react, Adib and two other racers barged in, dragging him outside. They didn’t waste time—within minutes, he was shoved into a dark alley behind a mamak stall, the rain soaking through his clothes.

  “You think that was funny?” Adib growled, his voice barely audible over the downpour. “You nearly got us killed with that stunt.”

  Before Zayn could answer, a fist slammed into his gut. He doubled over, coughing. Another hit landed on his face, sending him to the wet pavement. Cold water splashed against his skin as he gasped for breath.

  “Next time, race fair,” Farah muttered before they walked away, their figures disappearing into the rain.

  Zayn groaned, forcing himself up. He wiped the blood from his lip and turned to leave when a strange noise echoed from a nearby abandoned building.

  A deep, unnatural hum—like metal scraping against time itself.

  Then, a gunshot rang out, followed by the sharp clang of metal clashing against metal.

  Zayn froze. His instincts told him to walk away, but his curiosity had other plans. Gritting his teeth, he took a cautious step toward the building, peering into the darkness.

  Something was happening in there.

  Something everyone wasn’t supposed to see.