The rain had only just faded when the heavy tread of boots sliced through the quiet pit lane. Conversations dropped instantly — as they always did when Raymond Escovar stepped into view. He moved with the kind of calm that didn’t need to threaten; people simply knew better. He was precision, reputation, and danger molded into a single man — the one whose shadow alone could make a whole circuit straighten its spine.

Then there she was. The girl who dared to shake up his track. Drenched, breathing hard, eyes lit like she still had thunder left in her.

Escovar paused.

Not impressed. But… aware. As if he’d found something interesting he wasn’t sure deserved his attention yet.

His gaze traveled over her — controlled, cool, not even pretending to hide the judgment.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low and edged with that quiet arrogance only a man at the top of the world could carry.

“Not bad,” he murmured. “Messy. Reckless. But… not bad. But don’t mistake that for being anywhere near my level.”