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ALEXANDER

I t was race day, the world felt too loud, too bright. My chest tightened as the noise of the paddock swirled around me—the buzz of the crowd, the clanging of tools, the hum of engines. It all pressed in, like a vice squeezing my ribs.

I tried to focus on the routine. Gloves on, helmet in hand. But my fingers fumbled, the tremor too obvious. My breath came in short, uneven bursts, and the walls of the motorhome felt like they were closing in.

I sat down heavily on the bench, pressing my palms into my thighs, trying to will myself back to normal. Deep breaths, I told myself. But they wouldn’t come. My head spun, and I gripped the edge of the bench until my knuckles went white. I needed to get it together, I needed to calm the fuck down.

“Alex?”

Her voice cut through the noise. Gentle, steady, familiar. Lucia.

I couldn’t bring myself to look at her. My vision blurred as I stared down at my hands, still trembling.

“Hey,” she said softly, kneeling in front of me. “What’s going on?”

“I can’t…breathe,” I managed, my voice barely audible. “It’s too much.”

Her hand found mine, warm and grounding and she pulled me to a corner, away from the buzzing crew members. “Okay, listen to me,” she said softly, her tone calm but firm. “You’re having a panic attack again, that’s okay. It’s okay, but we’re going to work through it together. Can you look at me?”

I turned my head slowly, her face coming into focus. Her eyes were steady, locked on mine, and it felt like an anchor in the storm.

“Good,” she said, her voice low and soothing. “Now, breathe with me. In through your nose for four counts.” She exaggerated the motion, taking a long, slow breath in.

I followed her lead, though my inhale was shaky and shallow.

“That’s okay,” she said. “Let’s try again. In…one, two, three, four. Now out through your mouth, slow and steady.”

She demonstrated, and I mimicked her, my exhale hitching at first but gradually smoothing out.

“Keep going,” she encouraged. “You’re doing great.”

Her hand stayed on mine, her thumb brushing back and forth in a rhythm that matched our breathing. The noise around me started to dull, the edges of my panic blurring into something softer.

“That’s it,” she said after a few minutes. “You’re getting there.”

I nodded, my breaths finally evening out. The tightness in my chest loosened, replaced by a heavy exhaustion that left me slumping forward.

“Better?” she asked, her other hand brushing a stray lock of hair from my forehead.

“Yeah,” I croaked. “Thanks.”

She smiled gently, her hand lingering on my cheek for a moment before dropping away. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m here for you, remember?”

I let out a shaky laugh, rubbing my hands over my face. “I don’t know what happened. It just…hit me out of nowhere.”

“It happens,” she said softly. “But you don’t have to face it alone. Not last time, not now, not ever.”

Her words settled in my chest, grounding me even further.

The call came through the radio, time to get to the car. I stood up, and so did Lucia, her hand slipping into mine for a brief moment before letting go.

“Go out there and do what you do best,” she said with a wink. “And remember, I’ll be right here, rooting for you. Win me a trophy, would ya?”

I nodded, the panic replaced by a renewed sense of calm. “All right.” I smirked and leaned in for a quick kiss, and Lucia pulled her hands to my face.

“Go get ’em,” she whispered, squeezing my arm. I took one last deep breath and nodded, I knew how to do this next part. Racing was in my blood. I sent a wink to her, squaring my shoulders and getting in the zone.

The roar of the engine vibrated through me as I slid into the cockpit. Qualifying had gone well, the car felt dialed in, I just needed to translate that to a win today. Everything about the setup needed to click. The balance, the grip, the sheer power. My nerves were always sharp before the start, but this time I took an extra moment to pause. Remembering those affirmation cards I kept in my bag that Lucia had given me. I knew it was cheesy, and my team would totally make fun of me if they saw them, but they meant the world to me. Plus, they worked. Lucia called it manifesting, even if you didn’t feel it, say it and bring it into the world. I went over a few in my head as I slid into my seat.

When the lights went out, instinct took over. The car launched off the line. My team’s strategy was on point, and by Lap 10, I was holding first, and fifteen seconds ahead of Theo in second place according to my last update from Simon over the coms. The track was alive under me, every corner flowing into the next as if the car and I were one.

The radio crackled with Simon’s familiar voice. “You’re in a good rhythm, Alex. Keep this pace, and manage those tires.”

I acknowledged with a double click on the button, my focus razor sharp. Then the rain began. It wasn’t in the forecast and I only got a warning over the radio ten minutes out. Two crashes had been reported behind me and the gap between me and Theo was rapidly closing as he caught up to me while the safety cars came out, but the moment it was cleared I zoned in. The laps blurred as I fought to maintain position. Every overtake, every defensive move—it all felt perfect. The car was an extension of me, responding to every subtle input.

The crowd noise barely registered, but I knew the stands were alive even now as the rain poured down. Brazil had a way of amplifying the atmosphere, and I could feel it even through my helmet. Everything was lining up for a strong finish. Until it wasn’t.

It happened in an instant. Coming out of a high-speed section, the track ahead erupted into chaos. Debris scattered across the asphalt like shrapnel, glinting under the harsh sun. My spotter’s voice crackled in my ear, sharp and urgent: “Debris on track. Collision ahead!”

But it was too late.

A car spun wildly just ahead, smoke billowing from its tires. I had mere seconds to react. Instinct took over—I yanked the wheel hard to the left, trying to swerve clear of the wreckage. The tires locked briefly, the car shuddering beneath me as I fought for control. At this speed, though, control was a fragile illusion.

The back end snapped out, and before I could correct it, the world twisted violently. My car spun, and then something clipped me—hard.

The force launched the car into a roll, flipping end over end. Time seemed to warp, stretching into disjointed moments as gravity abandoned me. I was weightless and trapped all at once, my body thrown against the restraints. My head slammed into the padding as the car turned upside down, metal groaning and screaming around me.

Another jarring impact sent me flying into the barriers. The deafening crunch of steel colliding with steel reverberated through the cockpit, followed by a series of sharp alarms and the acrid smell of burning rubber. The car came to a gut-wrenching stop, mangled and lifeless.

For a moment, all I could hear was my breathing—ragged, shallow, desperate.

Then the radio crackled back to life.

“Alex, are you okay?!” The voice was panicked, cutting through the haze in my mind.

“Alex! Please report.”

I swallowed hard, forcing my mouth to form words. “I’m…I’m fine,” I croaked, though I wasn’t sure if it was entirely true. My hands moved on autopilot, patting down my body, checking for pain or anything out of place. Adrenaline surged, numbing everything but the roaring in my head.

“Medical team is on their way,” the voice assured, but I barely registered.

I leaned my head back against the seat, squeezing my eyes shut for a moment. The noise of the crowd outside had shifted, the collective gasps and murmurs of thousands rippling like waves. One thought cut through the fog: Lucia and Gianna. They’re watching.

I couldn’t let them see me like this—not trapped, not broken. I had to move.

Taking a steadying breath, I blinked my eyes open and tried to focus on the outside world. Shapes blurred, shifting into clarity. A familiar figure emerged through the chaos—Matteo. Why was he here? What was he doing?

The medical team swarmed the wreck, their shouts mixing into the ringing in my ears. Matteo was shouting something, his face pale beneath his racing cap, but I couldn’t make out the words. Everything felt muffled, like I was underwater.

Hands reached into the cockpit, steady and efficient, guiding me out. I was lightheaded, my legs unsteady as they hauled me to the medical car. My eyes flicked back to the wreckage, and what was left of my car. The halo above the cockpit was dented but intact, the only thing that had kept this from being so much worse.

I sank into the seat of the medical vehicle, Matteo climbing in beside me. His lips were moving, his hands gripping my shoulder, but all I could hear was the dull thrum of blood rushing in my ears.

I turned my head to him, blinking slowly as the haze began to lift. “I’m okay,” I whispered, the words more for myself than anyone else.

He exhaled, his grip tightening briefly. “You scared the hell out of us,” he said, his voice breaking through the fog at last.

I let my head fall back, staring at the ceiling of the medical car. I’m alive. That singular thought rooted itself in my mind, overriding everything else.