Ghosts
1196 Words
The walk to the secondary garage was quick and silent.
Dante strode several steps ahead of Valentina, moving so fast that mechanics instinctively stepped aside the moment they saw him coming.
No one said a word.
The entire paddock was wrapped in a tension Valentina was beginning to recognize all too well.
Fear.
Even the paddock felt different at that hour of the night.
Harsh white lights flooded the metallic corridors with an artificial glow, while the distant sounds of parties echoing from Monaco's harbor clashed violently with the silence inside the team.
Outside, Monaco was still dazzling.
Inside, everyone moved as though they were waiting for tragedy to strike.
Valentina struggled to keep pace with Dante, watching the rigid set of his shoulders and the way he marched forward without acknowledging anyone.
He hadn't spoken a single word since the phone call.
There was something deeply unsettling about that silence.
As though he already knew what they were about to find.
When they reached the restricted area, two engineers were speaking in hushed voices beside the black Formula One car.
The instant they saw Dante, both of them fell silent.
"Show me."
One of the engineers swallowed hard before pointing toward the rear of the car.
The chassis had been partially dismantled, its internal components spread across brightly lit workbenches.
Open toolboxes.
Diagnostic monitors streaming technical data.
Mechanics standing in complete silence.
The whole place looked less like a racing garage...
...and more like an operating room.
Valentina stepped closer until she noticed a small marking drawn on one of the internal hydraulic components.
A red circle crossed by a single black line.
Simple.
Small.
Deliberate.
Almost like a signature.
Dante froze.
Something in his expression sent a chill racing down Valentina's spine.
He recognized the symbol.
She didn't need to ask.
She already knew.
"What does it mean?"
No one answered.
The mechanics avoided her eyes.
One of the engineers stared at the floor.
Dante continued studying the symbol with unnerving intensity, as though he were staring at something he'd spent years trying to forget.
"Who found it?"
His eyes never left the mark.
"One of the technicians while inspecting the hydraulic system."
"Has anyone else seen it?"
"No."
Dante gave a small nod.
"Good. Then nobody leaves this garage until I say so."
The authority in his voice was enough.
Everyone obeyed without question.
Valentina watched him carefully.
The defiant arrogance he wore in front of the cameras had disappeared once again.
Now he seemed like someone entirely different.
Colder.
More dangerous.
But strangely...
More vulnerable.
Because this wasn't the reaction of a man protecting his ego.
It was the reaction of someone who genuinely believed his life was in danger.
One of the engineers stepped forward.
"Maybe we should notify security."
"No."
The answer came instantly.
"Dante, if someone tampered with the car—"
"I said no."
Silence settled over the garage once again.
Several mechanics exchanged uneasy glances.
As if this argument wasn't new.
As if everyone knew something Valentina still didn't.
She took another step closer.
"Dante..."
For the first time, he looked directly at her.
For a brief moment, he seemed to wrestle with himself before speaking.
"That symbol was on Luca's car the day he died."
The words sucked every ounce of air from the room.
"What?"
Dante slowly ran a hand through his dark hair before stepping away from the dismantled car.
"I saw it before the crash. I tried to tell the team. Nobody believed me."
There was anger in his voice.
But beneath it...
Valentina heard something much worse.
Guilt.
Suddenly, everything began to make sense.
The constant paranoia.
His hostility toward the press.
The way he always watched the people around him as though expecting betrayal.
He wasn't obsessed with Luca's accident.
He was haunted by it.
Valentina rested one hand against the metal workbench, her eyes never leaving him.
"Who was Luca to you?"
Dante didn't answer immediately.
When he finally spoke, his voice was almost inaudible.
"My best friend."
The honesty in those three words hit her harder than she'd expected.
It was the first time he'd spoken without sarcasm.
Without provocation.
Without the arrogant mask he seemed to wear even to breathe.
Only exhaustion remained.
"We grew up racing karts together," he said, his eyes fixed on the dismantled car. "We've been competing side by side since we were fifteen."
Valentina stayed silent.
"The day he died... we had a fight."
Valentina looked up immediately.
"You argued?"
Dante let out a bitter laugh and gave the slightest shake of his head.
"Over something stupid. I can't even remember how it started."
But it was obvious he did remember.
She could see it in the tension that tightened his jaw all over again.
"It was the last time I ever spoke to him."
The confession settled heavily between them.
For the first time, Valentina could clearly see the man hidden beneath the persona the media loved to describe as arrogant and impossible.
And the truth was worse than she'd imagined.
Because beneath all that anger...
...there was real grief.
"Do you think someone tried to kill you today?" she asked quietly.
Dante rested both hands on the metal workbench and lowered his gaze for several long seconds before answering.
"I think someone finished what they started two years ago."
Silence filled the garage once again.
Outside, distant music and laughter drifted in from Monaco's harbor, muffled by the walls of the paddock.
It felt almost cruel.
The city kept celebrating...
...while inside this garage, fear had become something painfully real.
Valentina knew she should walk away.
This was no longer just a public relations crisis.
It was no longer about managing a difficult driver.
It was something darker.
Something far more dangerous.
And yet...
She couldn't stop looking at him.
He no longer resembled the arrogant villain she'd expected to meet when she arrived in Monaco.
He looked like a man trapped inside a nightmare he'd been trying to outrun for far too long.
A phone rang somewhere at the back of the garage, slicing through the silence.
One of the mechanics answered immediately.
His expression changed the instant he heard the voice on the other end.
"Dante..."
Dante looked up.
"What is it now?"
The mechanic swallowed before answering.
"Security caught someone trying to break into your hotel room."
The entire garage froze.
Valentina felt the air grow heavier around her.
"Who was it?" Dante asked, his voice frighteningly calm.
"They don't know. Whoever it was got away before security could stop them."
Dante's jaw tightened once again.
"Did they find anything?"
The mechanic nodded and switched the call to video.
A member of the hotel security team appeared on the screen, holding up a small transparent evidence bag.
Inside it...
...was a photograph.
Even from where she stood, Valentina recognized the faces.
Dante and Luca.
Much younger.
Smiling together in front of a karting circuit.
Scrawled across the picture in red ink were five chilling words.
YOU'RE NEXT.
She'd looked up Luca that afternoon.
There were barely any interviews in which Dante ever mentioned him.
Now she understood why.
- Writer
