Page 10 of Full Throttle

One light flickered on.

Two.

She pulled down her racing goggles. The hum of thirteen cars filled the air, a swarm of agitated bees.

Three lights.

She’d been competing against these men since she was eleven years old. She knew how to beat them.

Four lights.

Third place, she thought, wasn’t a terrible place to start. She just had to overtake Baz and Frederick. Then she’d win.

Five lights.

For the first time, Juliette let herself consider it: winning the race. Becoming a Taurus driver. She’d be the first female driver in F1 history. Everything she’d worked for came down to this.

The lights went out.

Juliette barreled forward. Navy-and-gold cars whizzed around, sending up smoke. She pushed her car hard into the first turn. Baz was an incredible driver, but he hesitated at the beginning; if she was going to overtake, it had to be now.

She shot to the left. Baz made to block, but it was too late.

Juliette soared past. The crowd roared.

She slammed on the throttle. The force of it rattled her teeth, and she could feel her muscles screaming in protest. One lap passed. Two. Five. They were racing for ten laps—about a sixth of an actual race—which left little time to overtake.

Juliette passed the finish line.

Seven laps. Three to go.

She needed to get into first place now.

Frederick Von Galen came into view. He was careening around a corner, his tires burning dark paths in the track. Unsurprisingly, he’d knocked out two drivers already; Frederick’s racing style could best be described as “feral dog snapping at your heels before it attacks.” He snuck up and then lunged.

Juliette’s smile was grim. She doubted he’d like it much in reverse.

She lunged. He blocked.

Frederick twitched to the left. A classic bluff; he did that just before he went right. Her heart sped up. True to form, Frederick dove right, and she stomped down on the gas pedal, her fingers choking the wheel. Just a little more—

She shot past.

Frederick made an angry hand gesture, and she bit back a smile.

Good. Let him sweat.

Juliette shifted gears. The finish line was drawing closer, racing up at speed. Her eyes burned. She was actually going to do it. She was going to become a Taurus Formula 1 driver. The first female Formula 1 driver to earn a full-time seat in history, the first woman to—

Something blew.

Juliette swore. Smoke choked her lungs. Red lights flashed up on the screen, and the car came to a shuddering halt. Frederick flew past, punching his fist in the air. The crowd roared.

Numbness swept through her.

He’d won.

He’d actually won.