He slid into the driver's seat, the door clicking shut behind him with a satisfying thunk.
The engine purred to life under his fingers, low and smooth — almost smug, like it knew it was about to glide through the best parts of LA with the city dressed in its golden-hour best.
One hand on the wheel, the other adjusting the volume, Rex eased away from the curb with practiced calm.
The sun had started its slow descent, casting long shadows and flooding the streets in streaks of amber and lavender. Storefronts looked like they were painted in liquid gold. Windows reflected the sky like fragments of a dying flame.
He tapped the steering wheel absently, rhythm syncing with the beat of the playlist — something cool and modern, just enough bass to match the mood.
