Page 18 of Flat Out
Ava reached for another card and paused. “You okay?”
Aurélie just smiled, tight-lipped and composed. "Oh, yeah. Just… got a reminder of someone I miss."
I swallowed hard. The smoothie in my hand felt too warm, the room too bright against my eyes, my chest too full and too empty all at once.
I missed the crease between her brows when she was annoyed. The lilt in her voice when she slipped between French and English without thinking. The way she looked at me when she was still catching her breath but reaching for me anyway. The warmth of her naked body against mine.
And now she was out there, in front of the world, saying it—not in a headline, not in a post. Just quietly, because it wasn’t meant for them. It was meant for me.
I dragged a hand over my mouth, closing my eyes momentarily.
Aurélie blinked and her chest rose with what appeared to be a deep breath, and then her fingers swiped across the screen. She handed her phone over to Ava, who took it and held the speaker to her microphone before hitting play.
“If we can’t figure out how to run her off the road, get Fraser next," one voice said.Schreiber, maybe?
“I don’t know how that helps anything,” another argued.That sounded like Takeda. His accent was easily discernible.
“Those two are practically inseparable. She’s attached to him. You take him out of a race or two, and it’ll fuck with her head. She’ll make mistakes. Then his lead is knocked down,” the first voice said.
“If you’re going to take out one Vanguard, you may as well take out both. Marco is a solid number two this year,” a third person cut in.That was definitely Morel. That fucker.“But it has to be done in a way that looks accidental, do you understand? It’s time for Fraser’s run to come to an end, and Vanguard can afford to lose the Constructor’s for once.”
A collective gasp rippled through the audience on the stream. Ava’s lips parted in disbelief.
Aurélie kept her face neutral, but her fingers had curled slightly on the edge of her seat. I couldn’t fucking breathe. They said that about her, about me. And she recorded it because she had to. No one else would believe her because sheknewwhat this sport would do to her if she didn’t bring proof.
I felt sick, and not just from the whiplash and the concussion. From the fuckingrage. She tried to warn them, and they did nothing until it nearly killed me. I realized then that every time I doubted her instincts, every time I told her to “just be careful”, I’d been complicit. I loved her—but I hadn’tprotectedher. Not the way she protected me.
On screen, the audio clip stopped. Silence filled the studio before Ava handed the phone back and slumped in her chair, visibly shaken. “Holy shit.”
Aurélie said nothing. Just stared straight ahead like she couldn’t afford to let anyone see her shake.
My grip on the smoothie bottle tightened until the plastic cracked in my hand. I glanced down at it before setting it down on my nightstand before I made a mess.
They came for her. Theyusedme to try to get to her. And she still walked out onto that track and won.
I swiped the tears off my face with the back of my hand and opened our private messages.
I swear to God, mon cœur. I'm going to burn them down beside you. You will never be alone again.
(Also please forgive me and I love you)
Ava tapped her tablet once more, visibly reluctant to wrap things up. “Aurélie, I could sit here for hours. Honestly. You’vebroken the internet, rewritten the PR handbook, and probably sent three team principals into early retirement.”
The audience laughed. Aurélie gave a coy shrug, legs crossed, hands folded in her lap like a damn Bond villain.
“Well, I have three more interviews before I report back to HQ tomorrow, a flight to catch, and a house to make an offer on,” she said sweetly. “So unfortunately, my reign of terror must pause… temporarily.”
Ava grinned. “Any final words before we let you go?”
Aurélie tilted her head slightly, gaze cutting straight through the camera lens. Her voice softened, but not too much.“Yes,” she said, and I knew her next words were going to be something dangerous. “Callum, sweetheart, your mother’s worried about you. Be a good boy and call her.”
The crowd erupted.
Ava dropped her cards andhowled. “OH MY GOD.”
Even the sound engineer couldn’t stifle a laugh.
Aurélie just stood, calm as ever, smoothing her pants as if she hadn’t just made an entire audience scream. She turned back to the camera with one last smirk. “And remember,” she said, smiling like sin, “this wasn’t my war. They made it mine. I’m just good at winning.” She rattled off FIA regulations and team codes that permitted her to disclose everything she had.
