Redline | L.Norris

thirty nine

The media frenzy buzzed outside the Red Bull motorhome. A sea of camera flashes, microphones, and voices all talking about the same thing.

Isla Räikkönen on pole. By the narrowest of margins.

She'd done her interviews, smiled for the cameras, let herself be swallowed by the rush. But now the adrenaline had started to taper off, and the silence of her driver room felt strange, like the world had hit pause just for her.

There was a soft knock.

Then the door cracked open.

"Hey," Lando said, voice low, familiar.

She didn't even look up from the half-empty water bottle in her hands. "You're not supposed to be in here."

He stepped inside anyway, shutting the door behind him. "Figured you'd be too stubborn to come find me."

Her eyes flicked up then, and a tired smile pulled at the corner of her mouth. "So, you broke in?"

"Let's call it a casual trespass."

He crossed the room and sat beside her on the small bench, close but not crowding her.

Neither of them spoke for a few beats.

Then Lando leaned back against the wall and nudged her ankle with his foot. "Pole position."

She let out a breath, part laugh, part disbelief. "Yeah."

"By fifteen thousandths."

"I know."

"You know how ridiculous that is?"

"...A little."

He turned his head toward her. "You should be proud."

"I am," she said softly. "But it's weird. I thought it would feel louder. Bigger."

Lando tilted his head. "Feels kind of quiet now, huh?"

"Exactly," she whispered.

He reached out, tugging her hand gently into his lap, lacing their fingers without looking. "That's because the noise is out there," he said, nodding toward the paddock. "But in here? This is yours."

She looked at him, brow furrowed.

"The lap. The fight. The way you held it together all weekend even when people were waiting for you to crack," he continued. "No headline can touch that. It's yours. All of it, darling."

Her eyes stung, just a little.

"Do you have to be good at this and be sweet?" she asked, voice wobbling with a smile.

He smirked. "It's part of the charm package."

They sat there in silence for a moment longer, fingers still laced, knees brushing, the hum of the world muffled behind closed doors.

Eventually, Lando leaned in a little, voice low and honest. "Go win tomorrow. But not for them. For you."

She nodded, the weight in her chest finally starting to loosen.

"I will."

***

The main Red Bull strategy room was quiet as the team filed in, subdued but alert. Isla took a seat along the left side of the long table, Jack sliding in beside her. Across the room, Max sat with his engineers, arms crossed loosely, his expression unreadable. The rest of the senior staff trickled in one by one, but everyone waited for Christian.