Chapter 1 – The Final Lap
The scent of burning rubber filled the cockpit. The roar of the V6 turbo engine reverberated through her body, shaking her to her bones. A second of hesitation, a moment's lapse in focus, and it would all be over. But she wasn't afraid.
She was alive in this moment.
The rain pounded against the asphalt as she gripped the wheel tighter. The track was slick, the spray from the cars ahead reducing her visibility to almost nothing. But she knew this circuit like the back of her hand. She had spent countless hours in simulations, memorizing every corner, every braking zone, every tiny imperfection in the tarmac.
This was her race to win.
The pit crew's voice crackled through her earpiece, barely audible over the storm.
"Two laps to go. You're leading by 1.2 seconds. Keep it clean."
But she already knew. She could feel it.
Her tires were on the edge, the grip fading with every corner, but so were theirs. The rival car behind her, the one she feared the most was closing in. Isla Ferrez. A woman just as ruthless as she was. The only driver who could challenge her.
And just behind Isla, a third car, a sleek black machine with a familiar red trim. Damian Carter. Her teammate. Her boyfriend.
Her pulse was steady, but something gnawed at the back of her mind.
Why wasn't Damian pushing? He should've been right on Isla's tail, pressuring her, forcing a mistake. Instead, he was hanging back.
The realization hit her like a punch to the gut.
"They're not fighting."
A flicker of doubt. A shadow of betrayal. It was all Isla needed.
In the split second she hesitated, Isla made her move darting to the inside, tires locking for just a breath before finding grip again. The two cars were side by side.
She fought back. Hard.
The cars brushed against each other, the impact rattling her seat. Her tires screamed in protest as she tried to hold her line. She could see Isla's helmet through the visor, calm, precise, waiting.
Then, out of nowhere Damian's car surged forward.
"What the hell...?"
The impact was instantaneous. A bump from the rear, small but deliberate. Just enough to send her into an uncontrollable spin.
Everything slowed.
The world twisted. The sky and track blurred together.
She fought to correct, but it was too late.
The barriers rushed toward her.
A final thought crossed her mind, not fear, not even anger.
Just one question.
"Why?"
Then darkness.
---
The first thing she felt was… weight.
Not pain. Not the crushing force of the impact. Just the strange heaviness of her own body.
Her fingers twitched against something rough, fabric, not a racing suit. Her chest rose and fell, but something about it felt off.
A low, rhythmic beeping echoed in the distance.
A hospital?
Her eyelids were so heavy, but when she finally forced them open, the brightness stung. A white ceiling. The faint scent of antiseptic.
And then, memories flooded in all at once.
The race. The crash. Damian. Isla.
The betrayal.
Her breath hitched, and she tried to sit up, but her body didn't respond the way she expected. The weight on her shoulders, the shift of muscle and bone, it was all wrong.
A creeping sense of dread wrapped around her.
She forced her gaze downward.
Her hands were bigger. Calloused in ways they hadn't been before.
A sharp inhale.
She jerked forward ignoring the dizziness until she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the darkened window.
The face staring back at her was not her own.
A man.
Her heart pounded in her chest.
This wasn't just a crash.
This was something else entirely.
Her breath came in short, uneven gasps.
The reflection staring back at her was alien, a stranger's face where hers should have been.
She gripped the thin hospital blanket, feeling the strength in her fingers. Not hers. The movement felt wrong like her own body was a poorly fitted suit.
Panic clawed at her throat.
The heart monitor beeped faster.
She forced herself to take slow, measured breaths. Think. Process.
Her body… this body… was male. Broad shoulders, lean muscle, hands that were too large, too rough. A face unfamiliar yet sharp, but with dark brown eyes like mine but looked hollow, like someone who had lost everything.
Just like she had.
Her mind raced, piecing together the impossible. She had crashed. She had died hadn't she?
A sharp knock at the door jolted her.
Before she could react, a nurse stepped inside, looking surprised to see her awake. "Oh! You're up."
She swallowed hard, her throat dry. She wanted to ask what had happened, but she hesitated. Something told her to listen first.
The nurse checked the IV, the heart monitor, then smiled gently. "You gave us a scare. The team thought you wouldn't wake up after the accident."
Her stomach twisted. The accident.
She forced her voice to work, though it came out lower, rougher. Not hers. "How long…?"
"Five days," the nurse answered, oblivious to her internal horror. "You suffered a concussion and some bruised ribs, but you're lucky. The crash looked much worse."
She barely heard the rest. Five days? That meant…
Her funeral had already happened.
The world had already moved on.
The thought sent a cold wave of numbness through her.
Then, the nurse flipped through a clipboard and said, "Your team's been waiting to see you. I'll let them know you're awake, Mr. Reyes."
Her blood turned to ice.
"Mr. Reyes?"
The name rang in her head. Not hers. Not even close.
She wanted to laugh, scream, anything, but all she could do was stare.
She clenched her fists under the blanket. The sensation was still jarring, too strong, too foreign. Every movement reminded her that this body wasn't hers.
The nurse had already left to call the others. She had mere moments before they arrive, before she had to pretend she belonged here.
Her mind raced.
She needed information.
She glanced around the hospital room. Basic amenities. A small window letting in the muted glow of the evening sky. A television, a chair, and a bag of personal belongings sitting on the table.
She threw off the blanket and swung her legs over the side of the bed, too fast. Dizzy. A wave of nausea hit her, but she forced herself to move.
She grabbed the bag with unsteady hands and rifled through it.
Phone. Wallet. A few folded papers.
She flipped open the wallet. ID card.
Emilio Reyes.
The name sent another wave of unreality crashing over her. She swallowed hard and stared at the photo.
Sharp jawline. Tanned skin. Dark brown intense eyes. A face she had never seen before.
Yet… something about it felt familiar.
She pressed a hand to her temple, frustration building. Why this man? Why this body?
She closed the wallet, her hands trembling slightly. Emilio Reyes.
That was her name now.
She set the wallet aside and exhaled slowly, forcing herself to process everything. The weight of her new body, the roughness of her voice, the unfamiliar way her hands moved none of it felt natural. But it was real. She was alive. Somehow.
The sound of the door opening made her tense.
A middle-aged man in a racing team jacket stepped inside, eyes scanning her with cautious relief. His face was rugged, tired someone who had spent years in the industry.
"You're finally awake," he said, his voice gruff but not unkind. "How do you feel?"
She hesitated. What was she supposed to say? She didn't even know who he was.
"…Sore," she answered honestly.
The man nodded. "Not surprising. You took a nasty hit. Thought we lost you for a second."
His words sent a chill through her. They had thought she was going to die.
She forced herself to stay calm. "What happened?"
The man sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Crash during qualifiers. You lost control on the turn. Hit the barriers hard."
A crash. Again.
She gripped the bedsheet, hiding the way her fingers curled into fists. She had died in a crash. And now, she had woken up in the body of someone who had also crashed.
The man continued, unaware of her turmoil. "Team's been waiting for news. You scared the hell out of us, kid."
Kid.
So this man was someone close to Emilio. A coach? A team manager?
She met his gaze, steadying herself. "…Sorry for the trouble."
The man let out a short laugh. "You apologizing? That's a first."
She stiffened. What kind of person had Emilio been before?
Before she could think of a response, the man clapped his hands together. "Well, get some rest. Doc says you'll be discharged soon. Team's eager to see you back, but don't rush it."
She nodded, forcing a small smile. "Yeah. Got it."
The man gave her one last searching look before leaving.
The moment the door shut, she exhaled sharply, letting the tension leave her body.
She had been reborn.