—Natasha's POV—
The world did not merely change; it underwent a violent metamorphosis. One moment they were engulfed in the stone throat of the mountain, the next they were vomited out onto a vast, flat expanse of asphalt that stretched toward the horizon like a runway for fallen angels. This was the final straight, a brutal, unforgiving gauntlet of pure speed where every subtlety of riding skill was rendered meaningless.
Here, there was only power, will, and the screaming protest of machines pushed beyond mortal limits.
The transition was jarring. The disorienting, multi-directional roar of the tunnel condensed into a single, focused wall of sound that traveled with them, a physical force that preceded their arrival and rattled the very bones of the spectators lining the barriers. And
