I always thought the biggest rush in life was speeding. Turns out, I was wrong. Nothing compares to the rush of dodging bullets in a high-stakes mission alongside the one person I was supposed to trust the least—her.

It started as a simple getaway. The F1 schedule had been brutal, and I needed an escape. Monaco seemed like the perfect place to disappear for a while. But then she walked in.

She wasn’t supposed to be there. The woman I had met a year ago at a sponsor’s gala, the one who had captivated me with her sharp wit and stunning eyes, just happened to be at the same luxury resort at the same time? Right.

I should have trusted my instincts and walked away. But instead, I invited her for a drink.

One glass of whiskey later, the entire world turned upside down.

Shots rang out, and suddenly, she wasn’t just a gorgeous stranger anymore. She was quick, controlled, lethal. One second she was laughing at my joke, the next she was pulling me behind cover, firing back at masked men like it was just another Tuesday.

"Lando, we have to move. Now!" she snapped.

"I—what? Who are you?!" I demanded, my heart hammering.

"Not now!" she barked, before flipping a table for cover and dragging me towards the exit.

I had no clue what was happening, but I was a racing driver—reacting fast was kind of my thing. We tore through the hotel like a high-speed chase through Silverstone, dodging bullets instead of apexes.

By the time we reached the docks, I finally got my answer. She was an assassin. A damn good one. And apparently, I had unknowingly stumbled into something much bigger than a weekend vacation.

"You're a target, Lando," she said, scanning the harbor for threats. "They think you know something. Something about—"

A sniper round cut her off, shattering the yacht’s railing just inches from us. We dived for cover, and she cursed under her breath.

"Okay, change of plan. Can you drive a boat?" she asked.

I smirked despite the chaos. "Sweetheart, I drive anything fast."