CHAPTER 406: AMG ONE

The infotainment screen had been ripped out and replaced with a HUD rigged for telemetry, GPS overlays, and live diagnostics — because Eros wasn’t a man who listened to Spotify in his cars. He measured them.

He pushed them.

He broke them.

Eros slid in, and for a moment the world outside ceased. The bolstered seat wrapped him like armor, the air smelled of ozone and fresh leather, and his reflection ghosted across the dash. He tapped the wheel, reading every control instinctively — brake-by-wire, hybrid deployment modes, track settings.

Every system spoke to him in a language only he was fluent in.

He smiled. Slow. Dangerous.

Amanda leaned into the open doorframe, eyes dark. "It’s yours now. Every mile, every scream of the engine, every jealous look from the world outside. This is more than a car, Eros. This is... your declaration."

And for Eros — who knew every car, every engine, every secret under a hood — this was not knowledge. This was revelation.

The gullwing hissed shut and the cockpit sealed, cutting off the dealership chatter. Eros pressed the key fob.

The AMG One roared awake.

The engine didn’t start. It detonated.

The dealership shook.

It wasn’t just sound — it was a vibration in his chest cavity, a symphony of mechanical rage tuned in Formula 1 hellfire. The hybrid systems hummed first, a quiet electronic prologue, and then the V6 detonated like a storm splitting the earth.

The whole building shivered, glass trembling in its frames.

Eros wrapped his hands on the steering wheel, thumbs brushing the toggles. Gods. Even idle, the beast told him everything. The turbo’s faint whine like a predator sucking air through its teeth. The hiss of active aero testing itself. The slight torque feedback rippling through the pedals like the pulse of something alive.

He feathered the throttle once.

The revs screamed, climbed, plateaued, then snapped down with a mechanical snarl so intoxicating he almost laughed. Power. The kind that didn’t just promise speed — it promised domination.

He knew every spec, every secret, but knowledge was different from this: the feeling. Sitting in a two-point-seven-million-dollar monster, still a teenager, knowing it was his. His own beast.

And his women had dared to turn the tables on him. He’d come here plotting to spoil them with toys and horsepower, only to find they had betrayed him beautifully. Traitorous beauties. Oh, gods, he loved them for it.

The passenger door clicked open. Amanda slid in, a whisper of perfume and red silk against black Alcantara. She opened her mouth — but he didn’t let her speak. He leaned across the console and crushed his mouth to hers, the kiss reckless, claiming, filled with the very vibration of the revs shaking the car.

The manager coughed delicately and turned away, pretending to study a clipboard. Behind the showroom glass, the rest of his women watched like queens witnessing their prince crowned.

"When?" Eros demanded against Amanda’s lips, breaking only to breathe. His voice came low, sharp with awe. "When did this happen?"

Amanda’s laugh was soft and wicked, her eyes gleaming in the glow of the dash. "It was Madison. Before we came back from Miami, she used her father’s strings to have it ordered, customized. Charlotte handled the speed and process. The rest?" She waved a hand, graceful, dismissive. "They contributed where they could. But the price?" She smirked, shaking her head. "That’s not for you to know."

Eros exhaled, every inch of him vibrating with the need to unleash the car, to let the beast scream past 10,000 RPMs, to tear the streets apart. But he forced himself still, gripping the wheel until his knuckles whitened. Control. Patience. His pulse thundered anyway.

He opened the door, stepped out into the lights, and turned to face them all. "Thank you," he said simply, voice steadier than his racing blood. His eyes found Charlotte, lingered — gratitude flashing like lightning between them.

But the ache for Madison, his queen, the architect of this betrayal-gift, gnawed sharp.

Still, excitement rolled off him like heat. He’d never wanted anything more, and gods help him, he’d never felt more alive.

The roar of the AMG One still echoed in his bones when the manager, regaining his composure, stepped forward with velvet gloves and a tray. Upon it lay other three key fobs, each sculpted in brushed black metal, edges polished like obsidian.

The Mercedes star glowed faintly at the center, while on the back, his own emblem —EROS V.D. — had been etched in silver.

"Tradition is one," the manager said carefully, voice low with reverence, "but for you, sir, we prepared four. One for each hand that might guide this beast... or guard it." He bowed, a gesture no ordinary customer would ever earn.

Amanda plucked one fob from the tray before the manager could continue, pressing it into Eros’s palm as though sealing a vow. "The two are yours," she whispered. "The rest belong only to us. Guarded, as you are guarded."

The papers came next, thick and embossed, more like a royal decree than ownership documents. Eros didn’t just sign his name — he stamped it, carved it into the page with a flourish, the ink still wet when Amanda’s hand slid over his.

The manager cleared his throat again, but this time it sounded more like respect than nerves.

The dealership staff moved like attendants at a coronation:

The AMG One was photographed under soft white light, the EROS V.D. plate gleaming like a crown jewel. The custom spec sheet was handed over in a leather folio, every line confirming what Eros already knew — titanium-grey finish, EROS V.D.-stitched Alcantara interior, tuned suspension, telemetry HUD, aero package.

A one-of-one machine, now tethered only to his name. Insurance and registration papers, expedited through connections Amanda and Charlotte had pulled, stacked neatly beside the fobs.

When the manager finally extended the last document, his voice trembled slightly. "From this moment forward, this AMG One is yours, Mr. Eros. Unique in build, unique in owner. No other like it on earth."

Amanda leaned in again, lips brushing his ear. "Now, it’s official. Our betrayal... crowned."

The Truth

Eros still held the two fobs, staring at the beast idling in the lights, his pulse running wild. He turned to Amanda, eyes sharp. "Why?" His voice was low, dangerous, demanding. "Why this?"

Amanda’s lips curved into that slow, traitorous smile that always unmade him. She leaned closer, close enough that her perfume tangled with the burn of leather and ozone.

"Because you spoil us too much," she whispered. "And we wanted to remind you—you’re ours too."

Her fingers traced the steering wheel before brushing against his hand. "You run so fast, Eros. Always chasing, always hungry. We wanted to bind your speed to us. To give you something as untamed as you are, so no matter how far you race..." she let the words linger, "...it’s still us you’ll come home to."

He exhaled, sharp, but she wasn’t finished. Her eyes glittered in the glow of the dashboard.

"And because nothing else was worthy of you. Every other car would’ve been an insult. This one? This is you. Power, fire, chaos in a body that no one else can even dream of touching."

Her voice dropped, claiming him the way the AMG One already had. "It isn’t just a gift, Eros. It’s proof. You belong to us as much as we belong to you."

The dealership was silent except for the beast’s purr. And in that silence, Eros felt it: the chains of possession, softer than silk, stronger than steel.

****

A/N:Specifications: Mercedes-AMG ONE

Engine: 1.6L Turbo Hybrid V6 + 4 Electric Motors Power: 1,063 HP 0-60 mph: 2.9 seconds Top Speed: 352 km/h (219 mph) Customization: Grey Titanium Finish, V.D. Alcantara Interior, Bespoke Aero Kit, Telemetry HUD License Plate: EROS V.D. Status: One-of-one custom build