They stood in silence for a moment. The only sound was the ticking of hot engines and the distant buzz of cicadas.

And three cars—two roaring Italian stallions and one coughing sedan—pulled out onto the empty highway, side by side, chasing the sun toward the fire.

Then the woman pointed at Leo’s beat-up sedan. “What’s your story?”

“Lead the way,” he said.

The old man laughed—a real, dusty laugh. “Rentals? Son, I’ve had that Aventador for eleven years. Bought it the day my wife left me. Best decision I ever made.”