C39 Desastre Mortal

The hum of the motorcycle broke the silence, low and guttural, like a predator waiting to pounce. Claus adjusted Mia’s helmet, tightening the strap beneath her chin with deliberate care. His hands lingered a second longer, his eyes scanning her face.

“You good?”

Mia nodded, though her pulse betrayed her, hammering against her throat. “I’ll manage.”

“Not good enough,” Claus muttered