Page 8 of Overdrive (Speed Demons #1)

The track stretched ahead like a ribbon of endless possibility, waiting for me. I'ddreamtof this moment for as long as I could remember, and now that I was here, I couldn't afford to let my focus slip.

“Take it easy on the out lap,”Henric'svoice crackled through my headset.

“Understood,” I replied. I sounded calm, but my pulse hammered in my ears.

The circuit around me was alive, the grandstands already buzzing with fans. This was practice, nothing more, and yet it felt monumental.

I shifted gears as the car glided onto the track, the power of the machine surging beneath me. It was so much more— more responsive, more aggressive—than theF2cars I'd driven. Every twitch, every bump on the track, I felt it all. I rolled my shoulders, adjusting to the heavier G-force.

Adrenaline coursed through me, mixing with the memory ofCallum'steasing voice from earlier this week: Not the only way you'll be coming for me before the end of the season.

I needed to focus!

But as I thought it, heat crept up my neck, my hands tightening on the wheel.

I was here to race, not replay the words of a man who probably didn't mean half of what he said.

CallumFraser was a distraction I didn't need, no matter how ridiculously smooth his voice was with that Scottish accent of his.

And yet… the way he'd looked at me in the paddock earlier, like he could see straight through me, still lingered at the back of my mind.

It didn't help that I'd caught his words in the media pen the other day.

Complimenting me like he meant it or some shit.

He was probably fed some PR bullshit to paint a pretty picture of the rookie.

“Build up gradually,”Henriccontinued. “Focus on your braking points and throttle application.”

I adjusted my line as I pushed harder into the next corner, forcing my focus back to the car.

The world outside the cockpit fell away as I settled into my rhythm, every lap shaving milliseconds off my time.

Henric'supdates buzzed in my ear, but the data was just noise now.

The car and I were speaking our own language, one of speed and precision.

“Good pace, Dubois. Don't overpush on the tires.”

“I've got it,” I said firmly, braking late into the next turn.

My stomach dipped with the thrill of the corner, the tires biting into the tarmac with a ferocity I hadn't felt before.

God, this car was a beast. It was gliding through the apexes as if it had been made for me, and not just created through thousands of hours of research and engineering.

And then I saw him. My mirrors flashed black and red, the bold Vanguard livery unmistakable even in my periphery. He wasn't pushing, not really. But he wasn't backing off either. He was just… there. Not backing off, simply tracking my lines. Te sting me.

Of course, it wasCallumfucking Fraser. I couldn't let him fuck with my focus.

The competitive fire in me flared to life, and I gritted my teeth.

Fine. If he wanted to play games, I'd show him what I could do.

I pushed harder, faster, taking the next series of corners with a precision that had my pulse pounding.

The G-force pressed me into my seat, the engine growling as I surged onto the straight.

“Watch your tire temps,”Henricwarned, but I couldn't help myself.

“Copy,” I muttered, my eyes glued to the track ahead. My mirrors showedCallumstill there, lingering just enough to annoy me.

Finally, he pulled back as I dove cleanly into the next corner. My satisfaction was short-lived, though—when I returned to the garage after my stint, the ache in my fingers and shoulders reminded me just how hard I'd been pushing.

I climbed out of the car, sweat trickling down the back of my neck.

I stepped out of the garage and glanced down the pit lane to seeCallumpulling into the Vanguard garage.

He jumped out of his car with the kind of practiced ease that only came from years of experience, running a hand through his damp hair as his helmet dangled casually from his grip.

Nearly choking at the sight, I self-consciously peeled my braids off the clammy skin of my neck.

Putaindemerde , it should be illegal for him to look that good. And why did his helmet hair, dripping in sweat, make me want to ride him like a fucking roller coaster?

For a second, our eyes met across the bustling paddock.

The smug grin that crossed his face made my stomach flip—and not entirely out of annoyance.

The memory of his earlier words rushed to the forefront of my mind, and I scowled instinctively, turning away slightly before he could see how flustered I was.

Henricappeared at my side, glancing at the data on his tablet. “Good work out there. We'll tweak a few things, but your times were strong.”

“Thanks,” I said absently, still hyperaware ofCallumstanding across the way. I could feel him looking at me. He wasn't even trying to hide it.

“Don't let him get in your head,”Henricadded, following my gaze with an amused smirk. “He's just testing the waters. Four-time world champion attitude.”

I straightened my posture. “He's not in my head.” I unzipped my suit and tied the sleeves around my waist, pretending it was the heat that had me flushed. No other reason.

AurélieDuboisdidn't get flustered. Not by men. Not by anyone.

And certainly not by Callum Fraser.

But as I turned to head to the team debrief, I couldn't ignore the small, satisfied smile tugging at the corner of my lips.

Fine. So maybe I'd let him push me a little harder today. Maybe I'd wanted to prove something—not just to him or the world watching us, but to myself.

I'd come into this season with something to prove. And ifCallumthought he could shadow me on the track, he was in for a rude awakening.

I wouldn't match him. I'd make him chase me.