---

Ashes & Obsession

The clock in the hall ticked softly, the rest of the house asleep.

Zyra Vey pushed open her bedroom window, breathing in the cool night air. The city lights shimmered far away like stars trapped on the ground. It was midnight — her favorite time of day.

She moved quietly, slipping into her leather jacket, the one with the scuffed sleeves and faded silver design on the back. Helmet in hand, she crept down the back stairs. The marble floors of the huge house were cold under her boots.

Her father’s office door was shut, as always. He wouldn’t notice her gone. He never did.

Outside, her bike waited — a black-and-silver beast she called Shadow Siren. Its polished surface caught the moonlight, making it look almost alive. She swung her leg over the seat, slid on her helmet, and turned the key.

The engine roared to life, the sound echoing down the empty street.

Zyra grinned.

Tonight, the city was hers.

She pulled away from the house, the wind hitting her face through the helmet’s vents. She didn’t stop at red lights. She didn’t slow at turns. The faster she went, the freer she felt.

Far behind her, a pair of headlights turned on.

A man in a sleek black car watched her as she flew past him at the corner. His fingers tightened on the steering wheel. He didn’t know her name, but something about her — the way she leaned into every turn without fear, the smooth control over the powerful machine — made it impossible to look away.

Without thinking, he followed.

---

The race street was already alive when Zyra arrived.

Loud music thumped from parked cars. Groups of people stood in clusters, laughing, shouting, and placing bets. The air smelled of fuel and smoke, mixed with the spicy scent of street food from the vendors nearby.

Here, she wasn’t Zyra, the spoiled rich girl who skipped classes and failed tests. Here, she was Night Queen, the undefeated racer who made the streets her kingdom.

As she rolled her bike toward the starting line, heads turned.

And there he was — Rogue.

No one knew his real name. No one had seen his face. He wore a black helmet, just like always, and a dark jacket with his race tag stitched in white letters on the sleeve. He was the only racer who ever came close to beating her.

Some people whispered that he let her win. She wasn’t sure if that was true. But one thing she did know: when they were on the track, his attention was fixed on her and her alone.

She pulled up beside him, engine humming.

“Ready to lose again?” she teased through the noise.

His head turned slightly toward her. “Maybe tonight, I take your crown.”

“Dream on, Rogue,” she shot back with a smirk.

The flag girl stepped forward, her arm raised high. The crowd roared. Engines growled.

The flag dropped.

Zyra shot forward, the world around her turning into streaks of light. Rogue stayed close, his bike’s shadow riding alongside hers. She could hear his engine over the noise of the crowd, feel the push of his speed as he tried to overtake her.

But the finish line was close — too close for him to catch her.

She leaned forward, pushing Shadow Siren to its limit. In seconds, she crossed first.

The crowd erupted in cheers.

Zyra slowed, pulling off her helmet so her dark hair spilled out over her shoulders. She turned toward Rogue, still sitting on his bike, visor down.

He lifted it just enough for her to see his mouth curve into a half-smile.

“One day, Night Queen,” he said, his voice low. “And when I win, you won’t forget it.”

“You’ll have to catch me first,” she replied, her eyes glittering.

She didn’t see the black car parked in the shadows again, the same man still watching her with a look that was no longer just curiosity — but the start of something darker.

---

It was 2:37 a.m. when she finally rolled her bike into the driveway.

The front light was on.

Her father was standing in the living room, arms crossed, eyes cold.

“Where were you?” he demanded.

“Out.” She tossed her helmet on the couch.

“At a race again?” His voice rose. “Zyra, you are destroying yourself! Your grades are—”

“Bad? Yeah, I know.” She gave a lazy shrug. “It’s not like you care, so why pretend now?”

“This isn’t a joke!”

“To me, it is,” she shot back, walking toward the stairs.

From the kitchen doorway, Mrs. Hale, the old house nanny, watched quietly. She was small, with kind eyes and a soft smile, the only person in the house who had ever really taken care of Zyra.

“Go to your room, Zyra,” her father snapped.

“Gladly,” she said, disappearing upstairs without looking back.

---

The next morning, sunlight spilled into her room.

She got ready quickly, her hair still slightly messy, sunglasses hiding her tired eyes. At the college gates, her best — and only — friend Layla waved to her.

“Morning, menace,” Layla grinned, linking her arm with Zyra’s.

“Morning, moral compass,” Zyra replied with a smirk.

Only Layla knew the truth about Zyra’s midnight racing life. And Layla kept that secret like her own.

They walked into their first class together — Criminal Psychology. Zyra was planning to sit at the back, half-asleep, when the new professor walked in.

Tall. Sharp features. Dressed in black.

His eyes scanned the room, calm and steady — until they landed on her.

He didn’t look away.

And Zyra felt the smallest shiver run down her spine.

---

---

Ashes & Obsession

The night was quiet, but the city lights still burned like restless stars.

Caelan Dross was driving home after a long day when it happened — a silver bike shot past his car so fast it felt like a flash of lightning.

It wasn’t just the speed.

It was the way the rider leaned into the turn, cutting through the street like the road belonged to her. No hesitation. No fear.

He could have ignored it. Pretended it was just another reckless rider.

But his hands turned the steering wheel before his mind could stop them.

He followed.

---

She didn’t notice him.

How could she? She was too busy owning the road. She broke every traffic rule without a glance back. Red lights, speed limits — nothing slowed her down. The wind tore at her hair where it escaped her helmet, but she didn’t care.

Caelan kept his distance, his car hidden in the shadows.

It wasn’t just skill — there was something alive about her. Wild. Untamed. The kind of spirit most people spend their lives trying to crush.

---

She finally pulled into a hidden street. The roar of engines, the smell of fuel, and the loud cheer of a crowd hit the air.

It was a secret race spot — the kind most people denied existed.

From where he stopped, Caelan watched her remove her gloves and greet people. She didn’t have to speak loudly; her presence was enough. A queen in her own world.

Then another rider appeared.

All black gear. Helmet down. His bike gleamed under the streetlights.

The way they stood told Caelan this wasn’t their first meeting.

Not strangers.

Not friends, either.

Rivals.

---

The race began.

Engines roared like wild animals, and they vanished into the night.

She was fast — not just in speed, but in her choices. Every turn was sharp, every move was calculated. He could almost feel the thrill she must have been feeling.

When she crossed the finish line first, the crowd erupted. The man in black pulled up beside her, took off his helmet, and gave her a look that was hard to read — a mix of frustration and… something deeper.

She laughed — not softly, not sweetly — but boldly. Fearlessly.

The man shook his head, and they exchanged a few words before he left.

Caelan didn’t like the way he looked at her.

Too intense.

Too knowing.

---

He drove home, but her image followed him — silver hair catching the streetlight, the way she rode like even the wind couldn’t keep up.

He didn’t know her name.

But he knew he’d see her again.

---

The Next Morning

Caelan walked into the lecture hall for his first class as a professor.

Students filled the room, their chatter echoing off the walls. He ignored it all, his eyes sweeping across the faces.

And then… there she was.

Third row.

Leaning back in her chair like she owned it. Sunglasses pushed into her hair. Not a hint of nervousness.

Her eyes lifted, and for the briefest second, they met his.

Then she looked away, lazy and unbothered.

Most people couldn’t hold his gaze for even a heartbeat.

She did — and dismissed it.

---

Zyra’s POV

It was supposed to be another boring lecture day. Layla was whispering about a new café opening, but Zyra was half-listening, half-doodling in her notebook.

Then the door opened.

He walked in.

Tall. Dark hair that looked far too soft for someone who carried himself like that. Sharp jawline. Black shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows. And his eyes — cold, deep, and searching.

For some reason, her pen stopped moving.

---

“Good morning,” his voice was low but strong, making a few students sit up straighter.

“I’m Professor Caelan Dross. I’ll be teaching this course for the semester. Let’s get one thing clear — I don’t tolerate laziness.”

His gaze swept the room like he was scanning for weaknesses.

When his eyes landed on her, she expected him to move on.

But he didn’t.

It was only a second.

But she felt it — that strange, heavy pull.

She shifted, pretending to adjust her pen.

---

He began the lecture. His tone was calm, but his words had weight. He wasn’t one of those professors who tried to joke or act friendly. He was strict. Focused. Almost… dangerous.

Halfway through, two boys in the back whispered to each other.

“You two,” his voice cut through the air, “If you’re bored, leave. I don’t waste my time.”

The room went silent. Even Layla straightened in her seat.

Zyra just smirked. Okay, so he wasn’t just strict — he had claws.

---

When the class ended, he dismissed everyone with a short, “That’s all.”

Zyra picked up her bag, walking past his desk. She didn’t look back.

But she could feel it — that quiet weight of being watched.

Something about him didn’t fit the normal professor mold.

And for some reason… she wanted to know why.

---

---

Ashes & Obsession

Zyra’s POV

The rest of the day dragged.

She didn’t take notes, didn’t listen to the lecture — not really. Layla whispered gossip about some senior who got caught cheating, but Zyra’s mind was elsewhere.

She kept thinking about the way the new professor’s eyes had locked on hers earlier.

Cold. Sharp.

Like he was reading her.

She shook the thought away.

Still, the memory of the last race clung to her.

The sound of the crowd, the smell of smoke… and the way he had been standing there at the finish line.

Rogue.

---

They hadn’t spoken much after she’d won — just a quick, almost mocking exchange.

“Enjoy the wins while you can, Queen,” he’d said in that low, even voice. “One day, I’ll take one from you… and I won’t give it back.”

She had laughed then, pretending his words didn’t stay with her the whole way home.

But they had.

---

Later that night, her phone buzzed.

Unknown Number:

Queen still awake?

Her lips curved.

Only one person called her that.

Zyra:

Rogue still licking his wounds?

---

There was a pause before his reply.

Rogue:

One day you’ll stop laughing at me, and it won’t be because you lost.

She smirked at the ceiling.

Why do you keep coming back, Rogue? she typed. It can’t just be about the race.

Rogue:

Maybe I like watching you win.

Her fingers froze.

It didn’t sound sweet. It sounded like a warning.

Zyra:

Dangerous hobby you’ve got.

Rogue:

I could say the same about you.

---

She stared at the words. This wasn’t flirting.

It was heavier. Like he was telling her they were the same, even if they stood on opposite sides.

Rogue:

Be careful, Queen. Some people will want to take more than your title.

Her pulse kicked up.

She wanted to ask what he meant, but she didn’t. She tossed her phone aside and closed her eyes.

She wasn’t afraid of Rogue.

But she wasn’t sure if he was protecting her… or marking her.

---

Caelan’s POV

From his office the next morning, Caelan scanned the student list.

Zyra Veylor.

Now he had her name.

He should have stopped there.

He didn’t.

The image of her in his lecture hall — bold, restless, untamed — clung to him.

And behind that, the memory of the silver blur he had followed one night burned in his mind.

He didn’t know she was texting another man.

He didn’t know about the name Rogue.

But when he found out…

he wouldn’t share her.

---

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