GO
My body felt heavy. I could smell blood in the air. My vision was blurred, and every sound echoed in slow motion. The sharp scent of fuel and burning rubber mixed with the metallic tang of blood. My hand throbbed, and my leg burned like fire.
What happened?
Flashes came back in broken pieces—the race, the roaring crowd, the blinding lights. I had been trying to get closer to motorcycle number 10, the mysterious rider on the Ducati Panigale V4 R. Then, suddenly, a hit from behind. My bike twisted. The asphalt rushed toward me. And everything went black.
"ISA!" someone shouted.
I blinked hard, forcing my eyes open. A familiar figure was running toward me—Marco.
"Hey, hey, stay still," he said, kneeling beside me, his face pale. "You fell hard."
"My hand…" I winced. "And my leg—it's stuck—"
Marco shouted for help But no one was there everyone's going, He lifted the motorcycle off my leg. I could finally breathe again, though the pain shot through every nerve.
"We have to move fast," he said. "The police are coming. Everyone's clearing out."
"What about the race?" I muttered, my voice weak. "Who won?"
"No one. The cops showed up before the final lap. Everyone ran. You were lucky."
He helped me stand, his arm steadying me. I tried to take a step—pain radiated through my leg, but I forced myself to walk.
By the time we reached home, it was almost 10:30. My wounds were cleaned and bandaged, thanks to Marco. The sting of antiseptic made me flinch, but I stayed quiet.
Dante was already waiting by the car. The clock ticked toward 11. I had no choice but to go. Marco tried to stop me, worry clear on his face.
"You're hurt, Isa. You shouldn't travel."
"I'll be fine," I said, forcing a small smile. "They can't find out I raced tonight."
I wore jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt to hide the bruises and bandages. My body ached with every step, but I wouldn't let Dante see it.
At the airport, the bright lights and crowded terminal felt unreal. I followed behind Dante silently, each step heavier than the last. He glanced back.
"Are you okay, Isa? You've been quiet."
I nodded, forcing a tired smile. "Just didn't sleep much."
He didn't press further, thankfully.
The flight lasted over five hours. My leg pulsed with every shift of the seat. I leaned against the window, watching the night dissolve into dawn.
A sleek car waited for us at the airport—Mr. Alex's driver. He'd arranged rooms for us in his hotel. Dante handled everything while I focused on staying upright.
It took about an hour to reach the place. The hotel's location was impressive, but the interior… it felt aged, heavy with memories. The kind of place where the past refused to fade.
Mr. Alex greeted us warmly. His smile carried both pride and exhaustion.
"This hotel belonged to my grandfather," he said. "He and my grandmother built it from nothing. Every corner holds a story. That's why it's hard to let anyone change it."
I nodded politely, though my body was screaming for rest. I wanted to study the structure, the design—but my thoughts were clouded.
When the discussion finally ended, Mr. Alex said, "We'll continue tomorrow night. Our other guest will arrive then."
I froze slightly. "Other guest?"
Dante's expression tightened. "The CEO from MS," he said quietly, his tone unreadable.
We exchanged a look—neither of us pleased.
Mr. Alex's assistant led us to our rooms. As Dante was about to enter his, I called softly, "Bro… what was Mr. Alex talking about?"
He turned, smiling tiredly. "You're really out of it tonight."
He ruffled my hair gently. "He said the CEO of MS is coming earlier than expected. Probably has a plan—like we do."
I frowned. "Really?"
He nodded, his tone softening. "Don't worry, Isa. I'm here."
And for a moment, I believed him.
But deep down… something didn't feel right.
Later that night, I couldn't sleep. The pain in my leg pulsed with every heartbeat. I got up to drink some water, walking slowly toward the door when I heard faint voices in the hallway.
Two men talking quietly—one of them sounded like the driver from earlier.
"…yes, she arrived with him tonight… Mr. Alex said not to tell her anything until the CEO comes…"
A pause. Then the other whispered, "You mean the same CEO from the MS division? The one connected to—"
The sound of footsteps made them stop talking. I pressed my back against the wall, heart pounding.
When I finally peeked through the door, the hallway was empty… except for a suitcase sitting near the end—dark leather, with a small silver tag engraved with a name:
"M.S. CORPORATION — PROJECT BLUE."
I didn't know why, but my stomach twisted.
That name felt too familiar.
PROJECT BLUE