Bobby, Jax, and King drift away from the showroom lights to the edge of the lot. The city skyline hangs beyond the parked cars, all glass and distance. The morning feels less cramped here, softer around the edges.
Jax
You did not stumble into this by luck, Bobby. Somebody has been opening doors for you.
King
Not luck. Timing, access, and a very specific set of people deciding not to interfere.
King rests a shoulder against the fender, tinted windows reflecting the pale sky. His voice stays low, almost careful, as if he is measuring each word against the whole city.
King
The circuit is not just drivers and machines. It is favors, silence, and who gets looked at when things go missing.
Jax
Meaning somebody with pull is keeping Bobby off the wrong radar.
King
Or putting him on the right one. It depends who benefits.
Jax glances between them, then lets out a slow breath. The lot is quiet except for a distant engine passing somewhere in the district. For the first time all morning, nobody pushes for the next move.