MARTY: Oh yeah. That car’s purring again. And Volkov looks like a man with something to prove.
TARA: Race day’s gonna be fire. Stay with us—we’ve got exclusive access, behind-the-scenes coverage, and full analysis right here on Pulse.
Aleksandr Volkov – Post-Qualifying Press Conference, Seoul
The overhead lights were too bright.
They always were. They were designed to make us look good for the cameras, but they left you blinking like a stunned animal as you walked out onto the stage.
I settled into the middle seat on the curved white sofa, the same one I always took when I qualified on pole. Jax dropped into the spot on my left, stretching his arms across the back like he owned the place. Mason Hale sat on my right, the Falcon Edge driver still damp with sweat and as stoic as ever, cool and collected.
We waited. Cameras clicked, the low murmur of journalists settling into their chairs filled the air. Water bottles were passed out, and I twisted the cap off mine just to do something with my hands.
I looked around the room for Elena but there was no sign of her.
Richard Haversham took the stage, tablet in hand and an easy smile on his face. He’d been the FIA’s press conference host for as long as I’d been in the sport—late fifties, silver hair, tailored navy suit. He knew how to handle a room, how to steer questions away from dangerous territory without looking like he was doing it.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the post-qualifying press conference for the Seoul Grand Prix. Joining me on the sofa this evening, our top three qualifiers. In third, Mason Hale for Falcon Edge. In second, Jax Rivers representing Nova Dynamics. And on pole—Aleksandr Volkov for Obsidian.”
A polite smattering of applause followed. Cameras flashed. Still no Elena. Where was she?
I shifted in my seat.
“Let’s start with you, Aleks,” Richard said, smooth as ever. “That final lap was something special. Where did it come from?”
I leaned forward, microphone already in hand. “We found good balance in the car this morning. The team made a few small changes after FP3 that gave me confidence to push. The lap was clean.”
“Simple as that, huh?” Richard smiled.
I gave him the smallest hint of a shrug. “When the car feels good, you drive it fast.”
Jax let out a quiet chuckle beside me—I’d stolen that line from him and he knew it. Mason nodded with approval.
Where was she?
It wasn’t like Elena to miss this. She never missed the pressers if she could help it. My chest tightened, just a fraction. I told myself she was probably writing, or chasing a lead, or holed up somewhere where the signal was crap. But the unease was there, gnawing at the edge of my focus.
“Jax, you’ve had a strong weekend so far,” Richard continued, turning to him. “Second on the grid, only a tenth off pole. Can you challenge Obsidian tomorrow?”
Jax grinned. “I think we’ve got the pace. If I can stay in Aleks’s mirrors after Turn One, anything’s possible.”
“Got your elbows sharpened?” Mason asked, smirking.
“Always.” Jax replied.
I smiled faintly at the exchange, but my mind was still drifting.
If she’d changed her mind about the story, if she was pulling away from me, she wouldn’t do it like this. Not silently. Not after everything last night.
Richard fielded a few more questions—tyres, strategy, how Seoul compared to other street circuits. I answered on autopilot. Jax said something about the trickiness of Turn Twelve, and Mason made a self-deprecating joke about almost binning it in Q2. The room laughed.
I didn’t.
Eventually Richard looked down at his watch and gave a nod to the room.
“All right, folks, we’ll leave it there. Thank you, gentlemen. Good luck tomorrow.”
The lights dimmed slightly and the camera crews backed off. We stood, posed for the usual lineup photos—arms around each other’s shoulders, easy smiles for the broadcasters—and then we were done. The drivers’ media rep began herding us towards the next round of appearances.
