My Only Rule

Part Ten.

The scorching desert sun beat down on the track, casting long shadows over the Formula One cars lined up for the race in Saudi Arabia. My heart raced with anticipation as I settled into the cockpit, "Radio Check" I heard over from my race engineer, Zen.

"Loud and Clear"

As the race unfolded, I pushed my way through the pack starting from 13th, each turn and straightaway demanding my full attention. Lap by lap, I gained ground, pushing my car to its limits, inching closer to 10th position. I had passed Stroll and Vettle in their Aston Martins.

But fate had a twist in store, the very person standing between me and those championship points was none other than my teammate, Pierre. I knew he wasn't going to give this position up easily. As I grew closer to his Porsche, I found myself locked in a battle with Pierre.

His car and mine weaved through the turns of the circuit, a relentless dance of speed. My eyes never left the back of his car, searching for the slightest gap to exploit in each turn. The roar of the engine filled my ears, drowning out the cheers of the crowd. With every passing second, the dream of securing that 10th position became closer.

Approaching the final lap, an opportunity presented itself – a hairpin turn that begged for a heart-wrenching maneuver. I seized the moment, my Porsche darting to the inside of Pierre's car. We were side by side, our cars nearly brushing against each other as we navigated the corner. Perrie's fierce determination mirrored my own.

Side by side, we hurtled down the straight, the finish line just ahead. The crowd erupted into cheers, and I pushed harder, faster, my Porsche inching ahead as we crossed the line. The exhilaration was overwhelming at this moment as you could hear the crowd out of their seats.

As the cars rolled into the pit lane, I caught Pierre's eye, and we shared a nod. The race had been intense, the competition close but it had shown that I was here for the fight no matter the cost. I climbed out of my car, my body aching and drenched in sweat from the afternoon heat, a victorious smile gracing my lips.

The sun had already dipped below the horizon, casting a warm orange hue across the Saudi Arabian skies. As I stepped out of my Porsche after the exhilarating battle with Pierre, a mixture of exhaustion and elation coursed through me. Pierre, also emerged from his car, a grin on his face that mirrored my own.

I wiped the sweat from my forehead once my helmet was removed and shared a victorious hug with Pierre.

"Quite the duel we had there," I chuckled, shaking my head.

Pierre let out a hearty laugh, "Oh, absolutely. You kept me on my toes, Marilyn."

As we exchanged, a familiar figure approached us. Max, joined our conversation with a friendly grin. "You two were putting on quite a show out there," he remarked, his Dutch accent adding a touch of charm to his words.

Pierre playfully elbowed Max, a mischievous glint in his eye. "At least you're not like Max on the track," he teased.

Max chuckled, not taking offense. "Hey, I'm working on it Mate!" he said with a wink. "But you've got to admit, You've had your fair share of risky moments"

The playful exchange continued, and I couldn't resist jumping in with a laugh. "Well, he isn't as bad as his dad," I quipped, shooting Max a grin.

Max's lips curled into a confident smirk, his eyes dancing with a playful glint. "Your dads just as bad" he retorted, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

Laughter erupted between the three of us, Pierre, however, gave me an odd look. His eyebrows knit together in curiosity. It was clear he was wondering why Max would mention my father. A quick glance exchanged between Max and me was all it took to convey the old connection.

I shoved Pierre in his side and told him we needed to be on our way to the team, no doubt they will be unhappy with our small fight but happy for the points.

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OMG another part so soon, told you I wanted to write more. So hopefully more will be coming...