She didn’t trust her voice enough to speak again just yet.
Einstein moved away from the bike, casual as you please, wiping his gloves on a rag. No one looked at him. Every gaze in the pit stayed locked on Heidi, flinging her hands, and Marcus lecturing the manufacturer rep.
And that was the problem.
No one noticed what they should’ve noticed.
Her stomach tightened. She knew enough to know she didn’t fully understand what she’d seen — but she also knew enough to understand it was wrong. Something about it felt like too much precision in too quiet a corner.
Bree stepped back, pretending she needed a little more space. Her heart beat too hard, too fast. If she stayed another minute, she was going to telegraph her panic, and Carmen would ask questions Bree couldn’t answer.
She needed to get out of here.
She needed Hank.
“Hey,” Carmen said, softer now. “You sure you’re good?”
Bree nodded quickly. Too quickly.
Carmen’s brows knit. “You look like you saw a ghost.”
Bree forced a breath. “Just… overwhelmed. This isn’t really my world.”
Carmen’s expression eased with sympathy instead of suspicion. “Yeah, it’s a lot the first time. Heidi goes overboard, and Marcus feeds off of an audience. You won’t hurt my feelings if you need some air.”
That was all Bree needed.
“I think I will,” she said. “Fresh air. And quieter company.”
Carmen looped a strand of hair behind her ear. “Totally understand. Want me to walk you out?”
Bree almost said yes, but the instinct hit hard and fast: Don’t.
Carmen loved her sister fiercely. She wouldn’t intentionally hurt Bree, but loyalty was loyalty. If she knew Bree had seen something suspicious, even the smallest detail, she’d have to choose a side — and it wouldn’t be Bree’s.
“No, I’ll be fine,” Bree said lightly. “Just need a breather.”
Carmen nodded and looked relieved that she wasn’t abandoning Heidi in the middle of her meltdown. “Okay. Text me if you want company.”
“I will,” Bree lied gently.
She eased away from the thrumming chaos, drifting backward until the Red Dragons’ pit fell behind her. The music diminished. The voices dropped to murmurs. By the time she reached the open space between trailers, she could finally think.
Her pulse still thrummed like a hummingbird under her ribs.
She didn’t fully understand what she’d seen, but she knew — with the same certainty she knew color theory and line weight — that something had been hidden, wired, disguised.
Hank would know the difference between equipment and something meant to tilt the odds.
And he would take her seriously.
She angled toward his pit, scanning instinctively for his height, his shoulders, the way he moved. He wasn’t there yet; only Brian and Colby worked quietly at the bench, the air calm and controlled.
Bree paused several steps away, letting her breath settle. She didn’t want the panic in her voice when she talked to Hank. She wanted clarity and wanted him to hear the detail, not her fear.
Her heartbeat finally slowed. Just enough.
Across the pits, someone revved an engine, and someone else shouted. Bree barely registered it. The hidden cylinder and the twitch of the gauge when Einstein pressed the horn consumed her thoughts.
