He pulled a heavy, charcoal-gray curtain across the side window, sealing himself into his private dark world. On the custom backboard, nestled between two high-fidelity Pioneer units, a small espresso machine sat ready for the midnight run ahead.

Instead of harsh white, a deep blood-red glow bled from the door cards and footwells, casting long, dramatic shadows across the button-leather back wall.

As Elias climbed into the driver’s seat, the first thing that hit him was the smell of fresh, high-end Alcantara. Every inch of the original plastic had been replaced or resprayed. The dashboard, once a utilitarian gray, now gleamed in , a deep, shadowy tone that seemed to absorb the light from the passing streetlamps.

He engaged the ignition. The 770-horsepower V8 didn’t roar; it hummed, a low-frequency vibration that Elias felt in his chest rather than heard. Outside, the truck was a beast of chrome-deleted accents and smoked-out marker lamps, but inside, it was his home.