Chapter 4 #2
Wyn stumbles, catching himself on the wall, clearly surprised to see her. The bathroom lights flicker, harsh blue and throwing shadows. He recovers and his mouth lifts into an ugly sneer.
“Come to congratulate me properly, little girl?” The words slur together, but the malice is clear. And shocking. Wyn’s ruthless on the track, but he’s not usually mean. Nico thinks this is Graham’s doing. He took a boy who was sharp as a scalpel, and turned him into a mallet.
Petra just watches Wyn with the same focused intensity she brings to the track. It seems to infuriate him more than any response would’ve.
“You know what my father said?” Wyn pushes off the wall, swaying.
“The only reason you’re even here is because Coy Hayter’s little girl couldn’t handle being left behind.
” He runs a hand through his dark hair and glances away.
“Must be nice having a father who actually gives a shit whether you succeed.”
Nico tenses, eyes on his teammate’s hands. Violence is coming. He doesn’t want to set it off, but he can’t miss his chance to intervene.
Wyn’s focus snaps back to Petra. He steps closer and leans over her.
His six feet give him five inches on her, and he’s using his height as intimidation.
Or trying to. “How does it feel knowing you’ll never be good enough?
That no matter how many points you score, you’ll always be the diversity hire?
The publicity stunt? The little bitch who—”
Petra’s fist connects with surgical precision, all her controlled power behind it. Wyn’s head snaps back and blood spurts from his nose. He staggers into the wall, eyes wide and watering.
“That’s for every time you’ve run me off the track.” Her voice is icy. “And for every other driver you’ve pulled this shit with because Daddy’s approval means more than people’s lives.”
Wyn spits blood and grabs the wall, smearing red across its pristine surface. “You crazy c—”
“Don’t.” Nico puts a hand on his shoulder. “You’re too drunk to dodge.”
Petra steps back and her gaze meets Nico’s for a fraction of a second. There’s no regret there, just fury.
“She assaulted me!” Wyn clutches his nose, blood seeping between his fingers. “You saw that!”
“Saw what?” Nico drops his arm, but now stands between them. “All I saw was you throwing a drunk punch at me and missing. Then your face hit the wall. Typical Wyn move.”
A sound escapes Petra, something between a laugh and a scoff.
“You wouldn’t.” Wyn’s gaze darts between them. “Your own teammate?”
“My teammate who ran me off the track today? Who’s been doing it since F2? That teammate?”
A door opens and closes out in the hallway.
Petra steps back and smooths her dress with her uninjured hand.
“Ice your face,” she tells Wyn, voice professionally pleasant.
“You wouldn’t want to look rough for the press.
I hear they’re very interested in racing ethics, which is right up your alley.
” She meets Nico’s gaze, and fury lingers behind her eyes and in her voice. “I didn’t need your help, Belmonte.”
“I know. But it’s good to have backup.”
Something flickers across her face—surprise, maybe recognition.
Her dark eyes hold his too long. He notices the flush on her cheekbones, how her dress fits, the way her presence changes his breathing.
Then her walls slam back up, and she’s gone.
The bar’s noise is loud, then muffled as the door opens and swings shut.
Nico looks at his teammate, still clutching his bleeding nose. “Better get that looked at.”
“Why would you defend that bitch?”
“Because she was right. About all of it.” Nico straightens his jacket. “And some of us remember what matters on track.”
He leaves Wyn looking stupid and goes in search of Petra. Tomorrow will bring consequences and questions, and damage control. But tonight he can’t suppress his smile.
The bar’s noise crashes over Nico as champagne celebrations continue. No one knows about the violence yet.
He scans the crowd, but Petra’s already gone. Of course. She never sticks around for the aftermath, just executes perfectly and moves on. She punches like she overtakes. With zero hesitation.
“Yo, Bunny Boy.” Reece appears at his elbow, drink in hand and Maiken on his arm.
She smiles at Nico, but swats Reece. “Don’t disrespect the man. He drives circles around you.”
Nico laughs and remembers why he likes the American blonde.
“Traitorous woman!” Reece protests.
Maiken laughs but leans closer to Nico. “Spill the tea. We watched Petra follow Wyn and you follow her. So any idea why she just left the bar like she was qualifying on fresh softs?”
Maldita sea.
“Did she?” Nico’s attempt at casual fails because Harun Tilke, Wyn’s physio, suddenly abandons the bar, brushing past them toward the men’s room.
Reece notices too. “Something I should know?”
“The press are looking for a story after today’s race.” Mai’s perceptiveness proves she’s not just a pretty face. “If there’s something to manage, now’s the time to say so.”
Nico shrugs. “Only Wyn’s post-race drinking.” That’s the story the teams will run with. Unless Wyn’s pride can’t control his mouth. Or Petra’s fist left the kind of evidence that can’t be explained by a drunken stumble.
Reece studies him over his glass. “Why do I think you’re not telling me everything, Conejo?”
Nico glances toward the hallway. Harun’s hustling Wyn toward a back exit. He tips his chin that direction. “Your brother just hit a wall.”
Reece peers past him. “Bloody hell.”
The memory of Petra’s precision flashes through Nico’s mind. The punch, her words, her exit. And the fury in her voice when she said she didn’t need his help.
He’s less concerned about managing Wyn’s incident than managing things with Tenacious P. He might’ve oversteered that line, and she won’t forgive him soon.