Page 69 of Overtake
That truth punches Nico in the chest. Singapore’s crash, the bar incident—Graham’s already spinning narratives about his “questionable priorities” and “concerning behavior.”
“So I should do nothing? Let Wyn keep running her off track? Let drunk assholes say whatever they want?”
“That’s not what I’m suggesting.” Carlos stands, gathers his things, then holds Nico’s gaze. “Know what you’re fighting for and what price you’re willing to pay. Because this sport will cost you,mijo. It did me. And if you’re not careful, it will make her pay most of all.”
“She can handle herself.”
“I know she can. She’s proven that over and over.” Carlos moves toward the door, then pauses. “But ask yourself—are you defending the sport’s principles? Or are you defending her specifically?” He turns back. “Because one of those fights, the paddock might forgive. The other? That changes everything.”
After Carlos leaves, Nico sits in the quiet of his driver’s room.
Am I defending principles or Petra?
The answer should be easy. It’s a matter of safety and holding drivers accountable for dangerous moves. All the things his father fought for.
But Singapore wasn’t just about racing ethics. And The Blue Wall wasn’t about sportsmanship.
Nico grabs his bag and heads for his rental car. A lap around the track will clear his head. Burn off this restless energy that always hits before race day.
Through the paddock gates, he catches a glimpse of movement. Someone is running the circuit’s service road. Even in the distance, he recognizes that stride, the flash of pink-streaked hair beneath the circuit lights. Also the giant man running beside her.
Petra and her bodyguard.
“Be certain about what you’re fighting for.”
His father’s voice echoes in his head even as his feet carry him toward the service road.
Nicoiscertain. He has been for as long as he can remember.
The road curves away from the main complex, rising slightly with COTA’s elevation changes. Ahead, Petra maintains a steady pace.
“Either join me properly or stop stalking, Belmonte.” She doesn’t turn when she calls him out. Doesn’t even break her stride. However, she does say something quieter to Rodrigo and the guy falls back, letting Nico pass him and giving them some privacy.
Nico increases his speed and falls in beside Petra, matching her pace. “Shouldn’t you be resting? Big race tomorrow.”
“Shouldn’t you?” But she’s smiling slightly, breath steady. “Or are you here to demonstrate more perfect racing lines?”
“Hmm. You’re still angry?”
“No. Puzzled. Why did El Conejo play it safe in sector 3? In all the years we’ve been racing each other, I’ve never seen you give up an advantage, Nico.” She eyes him. “During the race you didn’t. And again during race qualies. I watched the replays. You kept Wyn on the back foot in the sprint. Even when he was being reckless enough to force his way through, you didn’t give him an inch. And you made me work my arse off for tomorrow’s pole. So why did you do it in sprint quali for me? Riddle me that, Spaniard? And give me a real answer this time.” She picks up the pace.
He matches her stride easily. “I told you, I took the fast line yesterday.”
She scoffs. “The noble line, you mean. Very Belmonte. Very principled.”
“Like you know anything about my principles.” He’s not mad or being rude, just blunt.
“I know you gave me pole for the sprint when the points were less, but not for tomorrow’s race.”
“I gave you?” Now he does bristle. “Check the times, Hayter. You earned that position.”
“Did I?” She cuts him another sideways glance, and pushes the pace more. “Or did you see a chance to prove a female driver belongs on track with you and the boys?”
They’re both breathing harder now, competitiveness bleeding into their run like it does everything else.
“Do you hear the bullshit coming out of your mouth?” He matches her stride for stride.
“I said what I said, Nico.”
