The soft glow of Parisian streetlamps blurred past in streaks of gold as Shaurvik sped through the cobblestone lanes like a bullet out of a gun. The luxury sedan he drove wasn't just a car-it was rage on wheels tonight.

Beside him, Vedant, his ever-loyal personal assistant, clutched the seatbelt with white-knuckled desperation, his heart thumping in rhythm with every screech of the tires.