Page 137 of Overtake
Standing on the grid, Nico watches mechanics run final checks on the car. The national anthem has played and he’s had a last-minute piss. All that’s left is to stay focused until he gets behind the wheel.
“Watch your temperatures through sector 2. The thin air means less cooling,” Baz reminds him.
Nico nods. It’s nothing he doesn’t already know, but he appreciates these small reminders before he gets into the car. He’s listening to Little Jesus today and tuning out everything but his number one mechanic. P1 gives him the inside line, butLynch is in P2 and his starts have been aggressive lately. Petra follows, and Nico never underestimates her.
The ten-minute warning sounds. All non-essential personnel clear from the track. Nico passes his headphones to Esteban and puts in his earpieces.
He glances back to see Petra climb into her cockpit. He admires her. Not just her beauty, but her intellect and her determination. She’s the perfect woman for him.
Ella es perfecta.
“Formation lap in five,” Roxana announces in his ear, even as Baz runs through final checks.
The familiar routine centers Nico as he puts on his gloves. The car’s tire warmers come off and the cooling systems are removed.
Fifteen seconds and the green lights signal him to start the formation lap. He accelerates, weaves, makes his way around one lap of the track, warming his tires and settling into absolute concentration. Back around to the starting line and into his box on pole position.
Behind Nico, nineteen cars line up.
Ahead, five red lights illuminate.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
The circuit holds its breath.
Lights out.
Perfect launch, but Lynch matches Nico into the first turn. Petra’s dark green car appears in his mirrors, attacking the inside line. Three wide through the first corner isn’t happening, someone has to yield.
“Lynch looking inside,” Roxana warns.
Nico holds his line, forcing Lynch to back off or risk contact. He chooses aggression, trying to squeeze through.
“Contact between Lynch and Hayter,” Roxana says. “Yellow flag, Nico. Lynch is off.”
“I see it.”
“Petra’s P2. Wyn’s P3.”
Seventy-one laps. The real race begins now.
Roxana notes. “Stewards investigating contact between Lynch and Hayter.”
The altitude thins more than air. It strips away margins for error, amplifies every minute adjustment. Through the first fifteen laps, Petra gains time. Nico’s mirrors show her car extracting speed from lines he thought he’d maximized.
Typical Tenacious P.
The gap oscillates between Nico and Petra, stretching on straights where the WolfBett car’s pure power matters most, shrinking in technical sections where her precision shines. Behind them, Wyn maintains P3, driving with control, like yesterday’s revelations lifted a weight from his shoulders.
“How’re the tires, Nico?”
