The Razor GP motorhome was a refuge and a pressure cooker all at once. Inside, the hum of quiet conversations mixed with the faint hiss of espresso machines and the occasional click of laptops. Luca sat alone at a small table, nursing a cup of strong coffee that did little to steady the storm inside him.
Outside, Silverstone buzzed with activity — engineers hustling to and from garages, mechanics swapping tires, media crews setting up cameras. The paddock was a world apart, a place where seconds and decisions carved legacies.
But inside, Luca wrestled with something more elusive.
Tom had just left after a terse conversation, leaving Luca to stare at the crumpled data printout in front of him. The numbers told two stories: his raw speed was impressive, but his tire wear was worrying. The engineers' reports showed excessive degradation on his left rear, a symptom of his aggressive cornering and late braking.
The door opened quietly, and Olivia stepped in, her sharp gaze softening when she saw him.
"You're pushing too hard," she said gently.
"I have to," Luca replied, voice tight. "If I don't, Kane will bury me. He's more experienced — knows how to manage the car."
Olivia shook her head. "Experience isn't just mileage. It's knowing when to hold back. When to listen."
Luca looked up, frustration and doubt swirling in his eyes. "I'm supposed to be the future of this team. If I can't keep up, what's the point?"
"Listen," Olivia said, sitting down across from him. "Matteo crashed because he lost control. Not because he lacked speed, but because he forgot to respect the limits — his and the car's. You have the speed, Luca. But speed without control is a death sentence in Formula 1."
Luca's fists clenched around the coffee cup. The ghost of Matteo — the shadow of that tragic past — loomed large.
"I'm scared," Luca admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
Olivia leaned forward, eyes steady. "Good. Fear is a tool, not a weakness. Let it sharpen your focus, not cloud your judgment."
They sat in silence, the weight of unspoken challenges hanging between them.
The next day's track session was a test of patience and precision. Luca entered the cockpit with a new mindset — not to dominate the car, but to understand it.
He carefully adjusted his braking points, eased off the throttle earlier on corner exits, and concentrated on smooth, flowing lines. The telemetry showed improved tire life and fewer wheel slips, but the lap times were slower.
Nathan Kane watched from the garage entrance, arms crossed. "Slowing down to go faster, huh?"
Luca gave a small nod. "Trying to last the whole race."
Kane grunted. "You'll learn it's a balance. You push, then you back off — rhythm. Not just a sprint."
Later that evening, Luca found himself back in the motorhome, analyzing telemetry with Tom and Olivia.
"This is more like it," Tom said, pointing at the graphs. "Tire temps are stable. Brake wear is down by 15 percent. Your consistency over a stint improved dramatically."
Olivia smiled faintly. "You're learning."
Luca allowed himself a small smile, though the pressure hadn't lifted. It had only changed shape.
"Tomorrow," he said, "I'll push just enough to find the edge — not cross it."
The team nodded. The journey ahead was a razor's edge — a balance between control and speed, risk and restraint.
But Luca was ready to walk it.