Page 138 of Full Throttle

She exhaled. “Bloody hell.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Hamish said. “Give them hell.”

Cap was next. Juliette chased her brother into a turn; her tires whined in protest, and the g-force felt like a hand throttling her neck. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. It was all she could do to cling to the wheel. Black spots burst in front of her eyes.

Cap glanced sideways.

Her brother was calculating angles, just as she was. What side would she pass on? Would she wait for a turn, or do it down a straight? It was like dancing with your shadow, Juliette thought, like trying to outsmart the image of yourself in a mirror. She and Cap had shared a womb. Her brother knew her better than anyone.

That was her advantage.

She wanted to go left. Which meant that—normally—she’d go right. And Cap would know that. Hopefully.

Her radio crackled. “Juliette.” Hamish’s voice was tense. “It has to be now.”

She bit down on her lip. Her car hugged the curve. Left or right? Overtake or undertake? Cap made no sign of moving. Leaving it to the last second, just like she was. The ultimate game of chicken.

“Juliette,” Hamish warned.

She went left.

Cap dove right. She sped past him.

The crowd roared. Hamish let out a whoop, and she could hear the excited buzz of the team garage. Several people were singing. Tears pricked at her eyes. She’d done it; she was up to third place. Only Dominic and Sinclair to go now.

“Fucking brilliant stuff,” Hamish said, raising his voice over the singing. “You’re on the podium.”

Juliette swallowed. “Hamish?”

“Yeah?”

“Just to confirm.” Saliva gathered in her mouth. “Whoever wins this race takes the championship.”

“Aye.”

Juliette shook her head. “I think I might be sick.”

“I’d advise waiting,” Hamish said cheerfully. “Can’t imagine it’ll feel nice throwing up inside a helmet.”

Juliette opened her mouth to reply when the cars up ahead caught her attention. Navy and crimson. Dominic and Sinclair. They scrapped like seagulls squabbling over a fish carcass, each determined to take the kill. Impossible to say who would win. Dominic was more agile, but Sinclair had the aggression of a battering ram. Still, Dom was going for the overtake, Juliette realized, her heart speeding up.

She gripped the wheel.

Come on, come on, come on—

Dominic shot past.

The crowd roared its approval. Relief punched her in the chest, and Juliette couldn’t stop the grin spreading over her face. He’d done it. Dominic was in first place. And if she finished third, then Toro Significa won both the Drivers’ and Constructors’ Championships, which was the best outcome they could have possibly hoped f—

There was a bang.

Smoke exploded. Something blue careened off the track. Dominic, Juliette realized, her heart jumping to her throat; Sinclair had rammed into his car.

And Dominic was spinning toward the wall.

Chapter 43

Final Push