Wheels Colide

Shadows unleashed

The quiet didn’t last long. The day after the bombshell report broke, Y/N was jolted awake by the relentless buzzing of her phone. She groaned, reaching for it groggily, her vision blurry with sleep. The display lit up with a slew of missed calls, text messages, and news notifications. It hadn’t even been 24 hours, and already, the fallout was beginning.

As she scrolled through the messages, a knot of anxiety tightened in her stomach. The headlines ranged from outraged condemnation to shocking revelations about MotoGP’s deep-seated corruption. But what worried Y/N most were the more insidious rumors, the ones that suggested she and Max had fabricated evidence to take down Laura and the higher-ups. The media was already spinning the narrative in multiple directions.

Her phone buzzed again, this time with a message from Max.

Max: We need to meet. Now.

Her heart sank at the urgency of his words. She quickly threw on a hoodie and jeans and made her way out of the motorhome, slipping through the paddock under the cover of early morning shadows.

---

Max was waiting for her in a nondescript cafe on the outskirts of town, his expression as grim as the day before. He looked like he hadn’t slept, and the bags under his eyes told Y/N everything she needed to know.

"Any word?" she asked, sliding into the seat across from him.

He shook his head, rubbing his face with his hands. "It’s bad. Real bad. Laura’s team is pushing back hard. They’ve already got some journalists questioning the authenticity of the documents. It’s like they were prepared for this."

Y/N cursed under her breath. "I knew they’d fight back, but this fast?"

Max nodded, his eyes dark with worry. "They’ve had time to bury the evidence or discredit it. And now, they’re painting us as rogue drivers trying to sabotage the sport for personal gain. I heard they’re even looking into legal action."

Y/N’s blood ran cold. "Legal action? For what?"

"Defamation. Maybe even fraud. They’re desperate, Y/N. Laura knows if this blows up in their faces, they’ll lose everything. So they’re doing everything they can to turn this around on us."

Y/N felt her throat tighten. She hadn’t anticipated just how ruthless Laura and her allies would be. Max was right; they were desperate, and desperate people did dangerous things.

"What do we do now?" she asked, her voice quieter than she intended.

Max leaned forward, his expression hardening. "We dig deeper. We know there’s more. We just haven’t found it yet. And we need to keep the pressure on. The media’s already paying attention, and people are asking questions. We can’t let them control the narrative."

Y/N nodded, though her mind raced with doubts. They were up against a powerful machine, one that had been controlling the sport from the shadows for years. How could they possibly win?

As they sat in silence, the cafe door swung open, and a familiar face walked in. Daniel Ricciardo, his easy smile a contrast to the tension hanging in the air. He spotted Y/N and Max, and without hesitation, he crossed the room and slid into the booth beside them.

"Morning," Daniel greeted, though his tone was serious. "You two look like you’ve been through hell."

"Feels like it," Max muttered, rubbing his temples.

Daniel glanced between them, then lowered his voice. "I’ve been hearing things. People in F1 are talking about this, and trust me, it’s not staying within MotoGP anymore. This has the potential to blow up across all motorsport."

Y/N’s eyes widened. She hadn’t thought about the broader implications. If corruption in MotoGP was this widespread, it could very well reach F1 and beyond. The entire ecosystem could be compromised.

"And," Daniel added, leaning closer, "I might have a lead for you."

Max straightened, suddenly alert. "What kind of lead?"

Daniel hesitated for a moment, as if weighing the consequences of his next words. Then he spoke. "I’ve got a contact—an engineer who used to work for one of the top teams. He was ousted a few years ago after a dispute with management, but before he left, he found something. Records of race manipulation stretching back years. He’s been sitting on it, unsure of what to do."

Y/N’s pulse quickened. "And he’s willing to talk?"

Daniel nodded. "He’s skittish, but if I vouch for you two, he might be willing to hand over the documents. But we need to act fast. Once Laura and her people catch wind of this, they’ll do everything they can to silence him."

Max exchanged a look with Y/N. "This could be what we need to blow it wide open."

"Where can we meet him?" Y/N asked, her resolve hardening.

Daniel checked his phone. "He’s based near Monaco. I can arrange for you to meet him tonight, but we need to keep it off the radar. No one can know where you’re going."

Y/N nodded, her heart pounding with both excitement and fear. This was the break they needed, but it also felt like stepping into a lion’s den. If Laura and her allies were willing to take legal action, what else were they capable of?

---

Later that night, Y/N and Max found themselves in a nondescript apartment in Monaco, far from the glitz and glamour usually associated with the city. The former engineer—David—was a wiry man in his early forties, with a nervous energy about him. His hands shook slightly as he poured himself a glass of water, but his eyes were sharp, flicking between Y/N and Max with suspicion.

"I don’t know if I should be doing this," David muttered, glancing toward the door as if expecting someone to burst in at any moment. "You don’t know how deep this goes. They have people everywhere."

Max leaned forward, his voice calm but firm. "David, we’re already in deep. We know this isn’t just about race manipulation—it’s about money, power, control. We’ve exposed part of it, but we need the rest. If you have the documents, it could change everything."

David hesitated, his fingers tapping nervously against the table. Then, with a sigh, he pulled out a battered old laptop and opened a folder filled with files.

"This is everything I have," he said quietly. "Proof of race manipulation going back a decade, payments routed through offshore accounts, results tampered with to benefit certain teams. If this gets out, it’ll destroy more than just MotoGP."

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as she scanned the files. The evidence was damning—far more damning than anything they had uncovered so far. This wasn’t just about one team or one person. It was a conspiracy that spanned the entire sport, a network of corruption that reached the highest levels.

"We need to get this to the press," Max said, his voice steady but filled with urgency. "Immediately."

David shook his head. "You don’t understand. If you do that, they’ll come for you. And they won’t stop until they’ve buried every single one of you."

Y/N met Max’s eyes, and she could see the same determination mirrored in his expression. They knew the risks, but they had come too far to back down now.

"We’re ready," Y/N said firmly. "Whatever it takes."

---

As they left David’s apartment with the files in hand, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. The streets of Monaco were eerily quiet, and every shadow seemed to move, every passerby a potential threat.

"You okay?" Max asked, sensing her unease.

Y/N nodded, though her heart was racing. "Yeah. I just… have a bad feeling about this."

Max didn’t respond, but his jaw tightened. They both knew that by the time the sun rose tomorrow, everything could change.

The storm they had unleashed was no longer under their control.