16 Afterburn

The adrenaline from the Silverstone victory hadn't faded when Luca found himself back in the cramped confines of his hotel room, surrounded by maps, data sheets, and the ever-growing trail of breadcrumbs left by his unseen adversaries. The glow from his laptop screen cast harsh shadows on his tired face as he pored over every detail from the weekend.

There was no rest. No margin for error.

Outside, the roar of the circuit was distant but never silent — a reminder that the race never truly ended. The afterburn of a jet engine fading, yet still humming with lethal power. It was a perfect metaphor for Luca's situation.

He had pushed his car and himself to the limit — and the danger was only accelerating.

Olivia arrived with fresh coffee and a new set of data files.

"We found something," she said, voice low, urgent. "Veltrix Performance isn't just a shell company. They're connected to a covert performance tech firm specializing in racecar software manipulation."

Luca sipped his coffee, eyes scanning the documents.

"Software manipulation? You mean... someone's hacking the car?"

"More than that. Adjusting telemetry, sensor outputs, even brake and engine controls — remotely."

His mind flashed back to the brake anomaly at Silverstone.

"It's not just sabotage. It's control."

The implications were staggering.

This wasn't just sabotage by a rogue mechanic or disgruntled engineer. This was a coordinated campaign, sophisticated and surgical, designed to unsettle, to destabilize, to control outcomes from behind the scenes.

Luca felt the weight of it pressing down like a lead vest.

Days blurred into nights as Razor GP and Luca worked with FIA cybersecurity experts. They ran diagnostics, tested software redundancies, traced encrypted communication signals bouncing between trackside servers and external sources.

But the hackers were ghosts.

Every lead ended in dead ends.

Meanwhile, the championship intensified.

At the next race in Spa-Francorchamps, Luca faced the steep uphill climb of the Ardennes circuit, with its unpredictable weather and legendary Eau Rouge corner — a place that had claimed many careers.

On race day, dark clouds loomed over the circuit.

Luca sat on the grid, the engine's roar muffled by his helmet. He could feel the storm building — not just in the sky, but in the game around him.

The start was chaotic.

Rain slicked the track as cars jostled for position. Visibility dropped.

Luca's reflexes were razor-sharp, every inch a battle against the wet asphalt and his invisible enemy.

Halfway through the race, the sabotage hit again.

Suddenly, the engine mapping fluctuated.

Power dropped.

Telemetry flickered.

The car bucked under acceleration like a wild stallion fighting its rider.

Luca fought to keep control.

The team radio crackled with frantic voices.

"We're losing engine response!" Tom shouted.

"Try manual override!" Luca barked back.

But the system was uncooperative, as if the car itself had a mind bent against him.

In those moments, Luca's focus sharpened into a singular will.

He was more than a driver.

He was a fighter.

He managed to nurse the car back to the pits.

The pit crew moved like clockwork, working feverishly to isolate the digital sabotage.

Out on the track, the storm broke in full fury.

Luca rejoined with fresh tires, soaked track, and a renewed fire in his veins.

He clawed his way back through the field.

Each overtake a defiance.

Each corner a testament to raw skill over corrupted tech.

By race end, Luca finished fourth — not a win, but a hard-won survival.

Later, in the team motorhome, Luca confronted the cold truth.

"This isn't just about winning races," he said. "It's a war over who controls the future of this sport."

Olivia nodded.

"They want to shape outcomes from behind the scenes. To turn drivers into puppets."

Luca clenched his fists.

"I won't be their puppet."

The message from the shadows came again — a single line on his phone.

"Afterburn ignited. Will you rise or burn out?"

He stared at it, heart pounding.

Then, with steely resolve, he typed back:

"Watch me rise."

The battle for the championship was far from over.

But Luca Rossi was no longer just a racer.

He was the flame in the darkness.