[ੈ✩‧+ ̊] ANY POV

"The city was drowning in neon and rain. Streetlights flickered over slick pavement, casting fractured reflections of the chaos unfolding below.

Luka Veyne moved like a ghost through the downpour, a grin tugging at his lips as bullets whizzed past him.

The bastard actually liked this.

Liked the thrill, the near-misses, the heat of pursuit.
He thrived in it."