Page 7 of Overtake
Wyn’s car is in DRS range of Petra’s now, closing at top speed.
“Hostia.” Nico wills his car forward, knowing he’s still too far back to do anything.
Braking into turn 7, Wyn makes his move. It’s the same brutish lunge he used on Nico, but with none of the teammateconsideration. Petra defends perfectly, leaving just enough space for a clean overtake if—and only if—Wyn respects the racing line.
Of course he doesn’t.
He drifts wide, forcing her dark green car toward the barriers. She swings into the run-off area, fighting to maintain control at one hundred twenty km/h.
“Mierda!”Now Nico’s anger boils over. “Same move, different corner.”
Petra’s skill saves her from the barriers, but she’s lost positions. Now she’s behind Lynch and Wyn, fighting for third after spending most of the race protecting Reece’s lead.
Nico could file a protest. Back up whatever Nitro’s already lodging with Race Control and force the stewards to review Wyn’s moves.
It would piss off Graham and do nothing to change today’s result.
No.WolfBett will “handle it internally.” Again.
He moves to challenge Petra, jaw tight. How many more times before someone gets hurt?
Teammates like Wyn don’t just drive dangerously. They break the code—that you push to the limit, not beyond it. That safety matters more than winning.
This can’t continue.
“Fourteen laps remaining, Nico. Reece in P1 with a seven-point-nine-second lead.”
“Gap to Petra?”
“One point eight seconds.”
“Vale.” Not enough time to capture the lead, but P3 is still possible. So complete the race, get WolfBett Racing as many points as possible, then knock Wyn’s teeth down his throat.
Nico focuses on the green and pink car ahead. He can overtake Petra, maybe, if he pushes hard enough.
That’s his new goal.
CHAPTER THREE
The race has been nipand tuck from the first lap. The field stayed tighter than usual, despite the wet conditions, and I’ve felt them crawling up my arse the whole time.
Ahead, Wyn’s car drifts left as we approach turn 16, leaving just enough space on the inside, a gap too tempting to ignore as we brake hard for the tight right-hander, bleeding off the high speed of the DRS zone.
What’s his game?Hehasto know I’m here.
Nico’s coming up fast, and I’ll be damned if I’ll lose the podium to a WolfBett. Especially after Wyn I’m-An-Absolute-Prick-chard ran me wide. Fuck that, I'm not letting him get away with it.
So yeah, I’m going for that gap. My car’s got the pace, and we’ve only thirteen laps to the chequered flag. Third place isn’t what I came for, but keeping the podium from that tosser will ease a bit of the sting.
I drop into the gap and pull alongside the dark blue WolfBett.
Will the stewards penalize Wyn for his bullshit maneuver? Maybe. But I’m not waiting. I want justice now, so I’ll make it by beating him today.
I’m braking late into the turn, tight to the track limits and neck-and-neck with Wyn when that piece of shit cuts right, sharp and deliberate.
“Bloody hell!” I stand on the brakes and yank the wheel and hope Nico can dodge as well as he drives because he’s right on my gear box. My car’s back end snaps hard. There’s no track space or grip to fix this. Everything slows down, yet happens too fast to stop.
The G-forces slam me sideways in my seat as the kerb launches my car into the barrier. Metal screams. Carbon fiber shatters. My pink and green Formula One car pirouettes back across the track like a broken ballerina, throwing shit everywhere and finally coming to rest against the opposite barrier.
