The noise was overwhelming. The cheers, the gasps. Cameras swung toward me like vultures circling fresh prey. I felt the weight of their lenses, the invisible magnifying glass they held over every move I made.
It didn’t matter.
This wasn’t about putting on a show; this was about doing what was right and saving the man I loved.
I’d failed Callum once. The least I could do was bring to light what corruption in the FIA could do. And now the FIA would fuckingpay. I would personally make sure of it.
Tears blurredmy vision as I raced toward the crash, ignoring the shouts from my team in my earpiece. The track was chaos, red flags waving, marshals rushing, the safety team already climbing the barrier, but all I saw was him and the wreckage.
Callum’s car was a mangled mess, the nose nearly sheared off. The halo was beat up but still intact, the cockpit eerily still.
“Callum!” I screamed, tears already blurring my vision. “CALLUM!”
My chest tightened as panic clawed at me, each breath harder than the last. This was all my fault. I should’ve warned him sooner. I should’ve pushed harder with the FIA, forced them to listen. If I had, he wouldn’t be sitting here now, trapped and?—
No. I couldn’t think like that. He was okay. He had to be okay.
I scaled the barrier like it was nothing, like it wasn’t meant to keep me out. Nothing would stop me from getting to him, even the two marshals who tried to stop me. I shoved them offand swung my leg over the tires making up the barrier, crawling toward the love of my life who still wasn’t fucking moving.
I could hear a medic shouting ahead. “We need extraction tools!” Then, lower, more grim, “If he makes it out of this, he may never walk again.”
Oh. Non, non, non.
“Callum!” I shouted again as I tried not to fall into the tires.
“Ma’am, you need to back up,” a member of the safety team said as I approached them, still on my hands and knees. I froze when I saw it all up close, shoving my visor up to make sure I was seeing it clearly, hands trembling violently.
By the high-pitched whine coming from the engine, that meant the throttle was still engaged. He was pinned andunresponsive. This was dangerous for everyone standing this close, because the safety features in modern F1 cars have electronic systems in place to detect crashes and initiate an engine shutoff. It was supposed to reduce the risk of a stuck throttle. Except it failed, and now?—
Smoke curled from the engine, licking through the torn carbon fiber like the breath of a monster. And then, like something out of a movie, it burst into flames. The safety team and the marshals all sprung into action, fire extinguishers at the ready to put it out.
I recoiled as someone yelled for a saw to cut the monocoque—the chassis. They were tearing his car apart to get to him. Tearing it apart like it wasn’t holding the most important person in the world.
But Callum wasstill in there.
I had to get to him. I had to talk to him. I had to let him know I was there.
I stopped breathing, and a pair of arms wrapped around my waist, hauling me backwards. I didn’t know who it was, but I screamed and thrashed. Another set of hands grabbed myshoulders, trying to contain me. We all balanced on the tire barriers, all while I clawed and fought against them.
“He’s not moving!” I sobbed. “LET ME FUCKING SEE HIM!”
“Aurélie, stop. You could make it worse!” one of them barked.
“I don’t care! I need to see him! LET GO!” I kicked, scratched, grunted like a woman possessed.
The one holding me said, “He’s unconscious. We need to get him out. You need tomove. The safety team needs space.”
“HE’S MY FUCKING SAFETY!” I shrieked, my throat raw, heart splitting open inside me. “Do you understand? I’m not leaving him! Let me go!”
I twisted and wrenched my body, but they had an ironclad grip on me. I bucked again, but they just kept dragging me back, and then they hauled me over the barrier as I cried and begged. Another marshal caught me and pulled me farther from the barrier. I scrambled on the gravel, choking on gasps of air.
“You promised me!” I screamed toward the car. “You promised me you’d come back!” My voice cracked from desperation and panic and fear and grief. “Please, please, s’il te plaît. S’il te plaît! Tu as promis!”You promised.
I finally got free from their clutches, quivering, crying, hyperventilating. My knees hit the gravel, and I tried to claw my way back toward the man I loved, who sat limp and silent in the midst of fire and smoke, but the wall of orange-vested bodies blocked me. I shouted profanity until my throat was raw and my voice was nothing but static. I begged the universe to rewind time. I cursed every goddamn person who ever said this sport was worth it.
I’d trade every podium, every point, every breath I had just to be close to him again.
I glanced up suddenly, watching as the marshals pulled off a twisted panel of bodywork. I didn’t even have time toreact before they started moving again—lifting Callum’s body out slowly and carefully, loading him onto a gurney. He wasn’t moving. His helmet was cracked. His suit was covered in soot.
