Alaric

I gripped my fists tightly at my sides but didn’t turn. Dami tried to spin around, but I stopped him and shook my head. "It’s not worth it," I said slowly and kept walking.

"Do you really think you could come back here and act like you matter anymore?" Kelvin continued. "I wonder why they replaced Stefano with you this season. At least he wasn’t as rusty as you are."

Stefano had been my replacement during my hiatus. As soon as I returned, he was moved to Aston Martin and had stayed consistently in the top ten.

"Bastard," Dami growled through gritted teeth and turned to lash out, but another voice cut him off before he could.

"He might have been away, but he’s still one of the best on the grid. This is his first time racing after a car accident. He is doing pretty well for someone whose life almost ended behind the wheel. Respect his comeback."

I didn’t turn, but I knew whose voice it was. Nico Park. Of all people, he was defending me? It made me wonder if the universe was laughing at my situation.

I started moving away, glad that at least someone had my back, but Kelvin wasn’t finished. "Defending him now, Park? That’s cute. I guess the campaign really did something to you two, because the last I remembered, you wanted him gone."

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. My chest was tightening and pain clawed its way up my throat.

I needed air. I needed to get away.

"I need to use the washroom," I announced to Dami, letting go of his hand and rushing toward the nearest bathroom without waiting for anyone to reply.

The door slammed shut behind me. I leaned over the sink, gripping the edge so hard my knuckles turned white. My reflection in the mirror looked pale, my eyes wide, and my curls stuck to my forehead with sweat.

Then I saw it—a flash of bright red in the corner of the mirror.

Harold.

For a brief moment he stood there in his signature tuxedo, looking sharp and completely out of place as always. I reached out toward the mirror to touch him, and I heard his voice in my head:

Stay calm, Alaric. You have to breathe. I need you to breathe slowly and relax.

I touched the mirror, trying to speak to him, trying to ask where he had disappeared to, but he vanished the moment the bathroom door opened.

A familiar figure stepped inside. It was Nico Park. No wonder Harold had disappeared. It was no longer a coincidence. The pattern was clear: Harold was never around when Nico was present.

I couldn’t help but wonder what Harold was doing here in Bahrain. Why had he come? There was no reason at all for him to be here.

"Alaric, are you alright?" Nico asked as he closed the door behind him and walked toward me. He stared at me with those intense eyes, and for once genuine concern showed on his face. "You are panicking," he said simply.

I shook my head and tried to push him away as he got closer.

"Get the hell away from me!" I yelled, but he didn’t budge. Instead he took my hands and turned me to face him.

"You are not fine, and I am not getting away until I make sure you are."

"Oh really?" I forced the words out. "Wouldn’t you be glad if I died right here?"

His eyes widened and I felt his grip on my hands tighten. "Don’t you ever say such words again. You are not dying. No one is dying," he said through gritted teeth as he held me tighter. "This is what I usually do whenever I am panicking. Try this." He demonstrated a slow breathing technique: inhaling deeply through his nose for four counts, holding, then exhaling through his mouth for six. "Follow me. In... hold... out again."

I hated that I obeyed him. I hated that it helped.

We did it together, standing in the bathroom, letting the sound of running water mix with our synchronized breaths.

Slowly, the tightness in my chest eased and I was able to breathe properly again.

When I finally straightened up, I wiped my face with a paper towel and muttered, "I won’t thank you."

Nico smiled and shrugged. "I never asked you to." He sighed, then spoke again. "By the way, you did well out there today."

I stared at him, confused, angry, and exhausted all at once. "Why are you being nice? You’ve been shady to me since the beginning. What’s your game, Park?"

He stepped a little closer and pointed a finger at me. "I just love getting on your nerves. Besides, since I can’t convince you to get off the grid, I consider you a worthy rival."

I gave him a questioning look but said nothing else as he slowly smirked. "Don’t let any words get to you," he said in a serious tone. "Some racers looked up to you years ago and I am sure they still do now." He gently tapped me on the shoulder, then turned to walk away.

"See you tomorrow. I hope you beat Kelvin, because I know you are never beating me." He bent toward my ear and whispered slowly, "Good luck, De Villier." He sniffed me once, then turned and walked out.

My face turned red immediately and my heart started racing in my chest as I stood there thinking about what had just happened. One thing was for sure—my heart fluttered at the way Nico had cared for me.

If not for him, I would have gotten lost in the full spiral of the panic attack. I would have slid down the wall, hyperventilating until my vision tunneled and went black, convinced another crash was coming for me right there on the bathroom floor.

The memories would have dragged me under completely, forcing me to relive the impact, the fire, and the silence that followed. I might have passed out, or worse—stayed trapped in that broken place until someone found me shaking and useless.

Instead, Nico had stayed and comforted me.