VIPER || Oscar Piastri

Chapter 98

[POV: Narrator]

Andi laughed, more out of politeness than anything, but Oscar didn't notice the difference. All he saw was her smile, and Charles taking it as an invitation. It wasn't real. Not in the way Charles clearly thought it was. But he leaned in anyway, like her smile was a welcome mat and not a polite barrier. His hand lingered too long near her waist, his voice low against the pulse of the music, a little too close to her ear.

Oscar saw it all as he crossed the floor; The flicker in her expression — the way her shoulders had drawn in, but most of all the way she wasn't backing off.

His pace picked up.

When he reached them, his hand landed first — firm on Andi's wrist. It wasn't a yank, not quite, but it was unmistakably a claim. A line drawn. Charles straightened, having no choice but to remove his hands from her. He looked up. "Woah," he said, stepping back with a sardonic smile and a playful tone. "Alright?"

Oscar didn't answer him. He shifted his body between them, pulling Andi behind him. The motion made her stumble, and once she found her footing, she blinked between the two of them, confusion painted across her face. Her mouth opened slightly, brows knitting. "Oscar, what are you—?"

But he didn't look at her. He was watching Charles too closely; the grin on his mouth, the smug angle of his shoulders, the way he didn't look surprised by what Oscar had done. It set his teeth on edge — that Charles was entertained.

Charles then lifted his hands slowly into the air, chuckling under his breath. "Easy there, mate."

Oscar stepped in closer. Charles smirked faintly, which only made it worse.

"I get that some people move on quicker than others."

Charles's smile faltered for the briefest second, and Oscar didn't let it hang. He tilted his head slightly, eyes steady.

"But maybe give it a full five minutes before trying your luck again."

Charles's eyes flickered — not wide, not panicked, just a blink, the smallest giveaway of recognition. He got the message. He knew exactly what Oscar meant.

And then, without waiting for Andi to catch up, Oscar curled his fingers around her arm and pulled hard enough to start her moving. She stumbled again, turning back over her shoulder, voice trailing out: "Hey, what the hell?" she half-laughed, protesting.

She tried to pull back. He didn't let go.

He didn't stop until they were out of the densest part of the floor, and the crowd thinned, and until the lights above weren't flashing so violently. Only then did she rip her arm out of his grip.

"What the hell? They were just about to play my song. You know how long I've been—"

"You want to go back?" He cut her off. "Fine. Go."

Her face screwed up in confusion. "Why are you—?"

"You really don't get it at all, do you?" His tone was harsher now—It came out sharper than he meant, and he saw the sting hit her. He saw it land. Saw her flinch, just a little.

Her eyes darted over his face, searching for something familiar — but it wasn't there. Not in the way his eyes looked angry, or the way they didn't soften when he saw her hurt.