Chapter 95

"No way!" Ballard's eyes went wide, disbelief written all over his face as he jerked the steering wheel to chase after Brinley. But his earlier reckless move had thrown off his line, and he nearly skidded off the track.

Up ahead, the first series of S-curves loomed, yet Brinley showed no hesitation; she didn't even think about slowing down.

From the grandstand, Milly lounged with a glass of champagne, smiling smugly. But she suddenly blinked in shock when the white race car suddenly disappeared into the shadows of the bend.

A split second later, it tore through the corner at an angle that seemed to defy every law of physics.

The car leaned so far it was nearly scraping the asphalt, slipping through the inside lane to overtake in one clean,terrifying move.

The commentator's voice soared in awe. "Unbelievable! She's just pulled off an insane dive bomb! That's a maneuver so dangerous even seasoned pros rarely dare to use it!"

The jeers around the track directed at Brinley fell silent all at once.

The bettors, who had been loudly laughing and waving their slips just moments earlier, now gaped at the streak of white cutting past car after car, forgetting all about the betting slips in their hands.

By halfway through the second lap, Brinley had clawed her way up to third place.

Dominik's eyes burned with anger as he rammed into the back of her car on the straight, determined to throw her off balance.

But Brinley didn't falter. Instead, she used the jolt to her advantage. The moment her car skidded, she hit the accelerator again, swerving sharply and forcing her way past him on the right.

"She's insane! Completely insane!" Dominik shouted, slamming his fist against the steering wheel in frustration. At the last bend, the lead racer had just started into the curve when a flash of white filled his mirror.

Brinley's car skimmed so close to the guardrail that sparks flew from the tires.

And then, in the final breath before the finish line, she surged ahead of all her competitors.

As soon as she crossed the finish line, the timer stopped at 1 minute and 47 seconds. Brinley had beat the track record by a full two seconds.

The engines rumbled into silence, leaving the crowd stunned.

Brinley pulled off her helmet, shaking her damp hair free. She cast one calm glance at the speechless grandstand.

Those who had mocked her earlier could only gaze at her in disbelief.

Without sparing anyone a word, Brinley walked toward the rest area.

As she passed beneath the monitoring room, she lifted her eyes to the closed window.

Through the narrow gap, she could feel a steady pair of eyes locked on her.

Her lips curled into a small, knowing smile before she disappeared into the passageway.

Inside the monitoring room, Austin leaned back, fingers tapping lightly against the screen flashing "1 minute 47 seconds."

Nicolas, cigarette dangling from his mouth, was dumbstruck. "She beat your record by 0.3 seconds? Just how many tricks has she been hiding?"

Austin didn't answer. He picked up the walkie-talkie and spoke in a calm voice. "Have the judges check the track safety before the next round."

The staff immediately went to work on the final inspections.

On the large electronic board by the track, the names of the finalists began to roll. Among the top ten, one name stood out in bold-Nightblade. Nicolas let out a low whistle. "After years away from the racing world, you're returning as Nightblade today.Back in the day, that name used to make even pro racers lose their nerve. And now you're racing your own wife? Brutal. Maybe take it easy on her."

Austin bent over, adjusting the straps of his racing boots without looking up. "She doesn't need me to go easy on her."

"Come on," Nicolas said, elbowing him. "Sure, her warm-up moves carried a little of Rosara's style, but she's still not on your level. This final track is brutal; it takes endurance. Her reckless driving might not last for three laps. Trust me, take it down a notch."

Before he could finish, Austin flicked a light kick to his shin.

Nicolas yelped and hopped back, rubbing at his leg. But when he caught the icy look in Austin's eyes, he backed down quickly, muttering with a sheepish grin, "Fine, fine, l'Il shut up. Oh, by the way, that aggressive dive bomb move she pulled-doesn't it remind you of someone?"

Austin fastened the final strap, then rose to his feet. The black racing suit outlined his tall, straight frame like armor."Racing is about speed."

Without another word, he strode out toward his car.

The sleek black racecar gleamed under the lights, sharp and menacing. It stood in striking contrast to Brinley's simple white vehicle.

At the betting booths, chaos reigned. Lines snaked out the door, ten times thicker than before.

The ones who had mocked Brinley earlier were now frantically shoving money forward, eyes bloodshot. "I'm switching my bet. Brinley's making top three for sure!"

"Put me down for five thousand; she can go head-to-head with Nightblade!"

Among the crowd, new signs reading "Go Brinley!" popped up, ridiculous when compared to the jeering banners from earlier.

In the VIP stand, Milly looked ghostly pale. Her eyes remained fixed on the track entrance. At the sound of approaching footsteps, she turned her head. Upon seeing who it was, she forced a smile.

Colin hurried over. "Sorry, I got delayed. Did I miss the final?"

"It's just about to begin," Milly replied quickly, rising to greet him. She slipped her hand into his arm, her tone soft and coaxing."It's so noisy here. I know a rooftop restaurant nearby; it overlooks the whole track,and it's quiet. Why don't we watch from there?"