The Varkos screamed down the track now—Vivienne opening it up like she'd been waiting all night. The mana-core surged, the tri-vaulted engine spitting heat and power into every inch of forward momentum.
Damien's eyes flicked to the HUD.
219 km/h.
Fast.
Faster than anything he'd ever touched.
And she wasn't even tense. Her hands didn't grip—they glided. Her footwork was orchestral. Every shift of weight, every flick of pressure on the pedals felt rehearsed but alive.
She downshifted sharply before a corner—engine roaring, gears snarling.
BRAAAP—WHUMP—WHRAAAAM.
The car vibrated beneath them, not in protest, but like it enjoyed it.
"That," Vivienne said, almost lazily over the noise, "is engine braking. You let the motor slow the machine before the corner, not the pads. Less wear, more control."
She downshifted again just for sound—aggressively, the RPM spike sharp and rich.
WHAAAAMMM—BRAP—POP.
