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Chapter Text

The sun had barely risen over Charlotte, North Carolina, casting a golden hue across the sprawling speedway. The early morning air was thick with the hum of anticipation, the smell of freshly paved asphalt mixing with the bitter scent of gasoline. In the distance, the massive grandstands remained empty, but to anyone who knew the pulse of NASCAR, they could almost hear the roar of the crowd—eager, restless, ready for the next chapter in the history of racing.

The Villarreal sisters were ready, too.

They had grown up in the heart of racing, not in the pits or the high-dollar garages, but on the local tracks where only the bravest, and the most talented, could rise to the top. Racing was in their blood, it was their family legacy. Their father had been a rising star in the IndyCar circuit until an injury forced him to retire early. But it was his love for speed and for the roar of the engine that had driven his three daughters—Alejandra, Paulina, and Daniela—into the sport. They weren’t just competitors; they were family, and that bond ran deeper than any championship or sponsorship deal.

For years, they had raced for Hendrick Motorsports, the biggest name in NASCAR, a team that valued teamwork above all else. Dany, the oldest, had quickly become known for her insane closing speed and aggressive moves. Pau, the middle sister, was the strategist, always the calm in the storm, calculating every move, every tire change, every drop of fuel. Ale, the youngest, was a natural. Fearless and unpredictable, she ran a style no one could replicate. Every move she made was a gamble, but she had a knack for escaping unscathed from chaos.

Together, they were unstoppable. Together, they had formed one of the most feared teams in NASCAR.

But that was before the betrayal.

Ale stared down at the contract on the table in front of her, a legal document from Trackhouse Racing. The ink was still wet, the words still burning in her mind. She knew what it meant—what it would cost.

“Trackhouse,” she whispered under her breath. Her fingers hovered over the signature line. The money was more than she’d ever dreamed of, enough to take care of her family for generations. The opportunity to be the face of a team with a rising star, a team that wanted her for more than just her driving.

But signing this meant leaving her sisters behind. It meant walking away from everything they had built together at Hendrick Motorsports, everything their father had taught them. It meant breaking the one rule that had always held true for them: family first.

The weight of the decision hit her hard. She had always been the risk-taker, the one willing to make the big moves. But this was different. This wasn’t just a race; this was a split in everything she had ever known. And yet, she felt it. The pull. The chance for more. A chance to prove herself outside of their shadow.

Her phone buzzed on the table, and her heart skipped a beat when she saw the name on the screen—Dany.

With a deep breath, she hit "accept."

“Hey,” Ale said, trying to keep her voice steady, though she could hear the tremor in it.

“Ale, you’re seriously doing this?” Dany’s voice was sharp, immediate, the anger palpable even over the phone. “You’re leaving us for money? For another team? After everything we’ve been through together?”

Ale winced. “Dany, I didn’t mean to hurt you. This... it’s not about you. It’s about me.”

“Bullshit,” Dany snapped. “You’re just doing this because you think you can’t win with us anymore, right? You think you’re better than us now that you’ve got a big paycheck in front of you?”

“That’s not it, Dany. You know me better than that. This is something I have to do.”

There was a long pause on the other end. Dany wasn’t yelling anymore, but the silence felt even worse. “I don’t understand,” Dany finally said, her voice quieter. “Why can’t we just stick together? You’re my sister, Ale. We’ve always been a team.”

“We still are,” Ale whispered. But even as she said it, she knew it was a lie. They couldn’t be a team if she wasn’t there.

“I can’t do this,” Dany muttered, her voice breaking for a brief moment. “You’re making a huge mistake.”

“I’ll always be your sister, Dany. I swear I’ll be there for you, no matter what.”

“I don’t know if I can forgive you for this,” Dany replied, her voice bitter with emotion before she hung up.

Ale stared at the phone for a moment, the weight of her choice crushing her chest. She had known this would happen—she had expected it, even. But nothing could have prepared her for the gut-punch that came with the words from Dany’s mouth. “I don’t know if I can forgive you for this.”

---

Days later, the official announcement came. Alejandra Villarreal, the fearless younger sister, had signed with Trackhouse Racing. The move sent shockwaves through the NASCAR world. Fans were divided, some angry, some supportive, but most just in disbelief that the Villarreal team would be split apart.

Dany couldn’t watch the media coverage. She refused to see Ale's face on TV, hearing the way the reporters spoke about her as if she had made the best move of her life. The betrayal stung too much.

“I’ll show her,” Dany muttered under her breath as she suited up for the next race. “She wants to race against us? Fine. I’ll beat her.”

Pau, the middle sister, was quieter. More reserved. She had always been the mediator, the one who kept the peace between them. But even she couldn’t ignore the damage that had been done. She didn’t want to admit it, but she was scared. This would change everything. The team was no longer the unbeatable trio they once were. And the worst part? She didn’t know if they could ever fix it.

---

The following weeks were a whirlwind of press conferences, sponsor changes, and endless media speculation. The sisters had to race against each other now, not as teammates but as rivals.

The Daytona 500, the biggest race of the year, loomed on the horizon. The three of them would face off for the first time as competitors, each trying to make a name for themselves without the others by their side. Dany and Ale had fought side by side, but now they would fight for dominance, for pride. And Pau? Pau would try to stay above it all, the professional, the strategist—but deep down, she knew the truth.

The sisters would never be the same. And the race to Daytona would be the beginning of something far more dangerous than any of them had anticipated.

---

TO BE CONTINUED...

Chapter Text

Race: Busch Light Clash at the Coliseum – Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum
Days Until the Daytona 500: 14

The garage at Hendrick Motorsports was usually filled with the comforting hum of drills, the clanking of wrenches, and the low murmur of mechanics working on their machines. It was a place where Daniela “Dany” Villarreal felt at home—a controlled chaos where she could breathe, focus, and block out everything that wasn’t speed, wasn’t victory.

But today, the garage felt wrong.

Conversations hushed when she walked in. Crew members glanced at her, then away, pretending to be focused on their tasks. She could hear the whispers, the barely concealed murmurs of disbelief. They didn’t have to say it aloud—she already knew. The news had broken an hour ago.

Ale was gone.

Dany clenched her fists as she stormed toward her car, the #22 Chevrolet Camaro ZL1, its deep black and red paint job gleaming under the fluorescent lights. The Hendrick logo was stitched into her fire suit, the same one Ale had worn for years. The same team they had built their careers with.

“Dany, wait—”

She whirled around to see Paulina standing a few feet away, arms crossed over her fire suit, brows furrowed in concern. Pau had always been the calm one, the strategist, the one who never let emotion cloud her judgment. But even she looked shaken.

“She actually did it,” Dany hissed. Her voice was low, but the rage simmering beneath it made her sound sharp, dangerous.

Paulina exhaled. “I know.”

Dany laughed bitterly, running a hand through her dark curls. “She actually fucking did it. I thought—” She stopped herself before the words spilled out. I thought we meant more to her than this.

Paulina hesitated, then took a step closer. “I don’t think it was an easy decision for her.”

Dany scoffed. “Didn’t seem too hard when she signed the contract.”

The words felt venomous even as she spoke them, but she couldn’t stop herself. All she could see was Ale’s face in the press conference, that calm, confident expression as she posed next to her new #46 Ford Mustang Dark Horse. She hadn’t even told them herself—Dany had found out the same way as everyone else: on a damn Twitter post.

"Official: Alejandra Villarreal signs with Trackhouse Racing, set to pilot the #46 in the upcoming season."

Dany had stared at the words for a full minute, waiting for the part where it said “Just kidding, gotcha!” But it never came.

Now, the betrayal burned in her chest, mixing with a fury she had no idea where to place.

“She didn’t even tell us,” Dany muttered.

Paulina let out a slow breath. “I don’t think she knew how.”

Dany turned on her, eyes blazing. “That’s bullsh*t, Pau. We’re her sisters. She could’ve told us. She should have told us.”

Paulina didn’t argue. That’s what made it worse.

The garage doors opened, and the sudden noise made both of them turn. A wave of fresh murmurs spread as a familiar figure stepped inside.

Ale.

Dany’s body went rigid as her sister walked in, her long, dark hair tucked under a Trackhouse Racing cap. Her fire suit was different now—no longer Hendrick blue, but Trackhouse’s deep navy and gray, her name stitched in white above her heart. She looked like a stranger.

Dany felt the tension coil in her muscles. She wanted to punch something. Or someone.

Ale met her gaze, and for the briefest moment, something flickered in her dark eyes—hesitation, maybe even regret. But just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by the same cool confidence she always carried.

“Pau. Dany,” Ale greeted. Her voice was even, controlled.

Dany’s jaw tightened. “You’ve got some nerve walking in here.”

“I came to talk.”

“Oh, now you want to talk?” Dany let out a sharp laugh. “That’s funny. ‘Cause I don’t remember you saying a damn word when you stabbed us in the back.”

Ale exhaled, slow and measured. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Wasn’t it?” Dany took a step closer, hands clenched at her sides. “You left. You didn’t even tell us you were leaving. You just signed the papers and let us find out like everyone else.”

Ale’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I had to do what was right for me.”

Dany could feel the blood pounding in her ears. The anger was too much, too overwhelming. She took another step forward, until she was nearly chest-to-chest with Ale. “You mean what was right for your bank account?”

Ale’s expression hardened. “Don’t do that. Don’t act like this was about money.”

“Then what the hell was it about?”

Silence.

Ale swallowed, then looked away. That alone sent another stab of betrayal through Dany’s chest. If she couldn’t even say it out loud, then maybe she knew—maybe she knew she had made the wrong call.

Paulina, ever the mediator, stepped between them, placing a gentle hand on Dany’s arm. “Guys, maybe we should—”

“No,” Dany snapped, pulling away. “I want to hear her say it.” She turned back to Ale. “Tell me why you left us. Tell me why I shouldn’t see you as just another damn opponent now.”

Ale’s jaw tensed. “Because I wanted to prove that I could do this on my own.”

The words hit harder than a wreck at Talladega.

Dany stared at her, feeling something inside her crack. “On your own?” she repeated, her voice hollow. “You think we were holding you back?”

Ale didn’t respond.

Dany let out a slow, bitter laugh, stepping back. “Alright. You got what you wanted, Ale. You’re on your own now.”

The words hung heavy between them. Paulina looked between her sisters, her expression a mix of worry and heartbreak.

Ale didn’t move. Didn’t fight. Didn’t even try to fix what was breaking right in front of her.

She just gave the smallest nod. “I’ll see you on the track.”

And then she turned and walked away.

Dany watched her go, her hands trembling with barely contained fury.

Paulina sighed. “Dany—”

“No,” Dany interrupted, shaking her head. “She made her choice. She wants to be our enemy? Fine. She’ll get exactly what she asked for.”

She turned on her heel, storming toward her car. The gloves went on, the helmet snapped into place. If Ale wanted to go to war, then Dany was ready for battle.

Because when the green flag dropped, there would be no more sisterhood.

Just rivals.

Just enemies.

And Dany wasn’t going to let Ale win.

Chapter Text

Race: Busch Light Clash at the Coliseum – Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum
Days Until the Daytona 500: 13

The engines roared to life as the cars lined up on the short quarter-mile track inside the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum. The Busch Light Clash was supposed to be a fun, non-points race—a way for drivers to shake off the offseason rust before the real battle began at Daytona. But tonight, it felt personal.

For the first time in their careers, the Villarreal sisters weren’t teammates.

Dany gripped the wheel of her #22 Chevrolet Camaro ZL1, her foot twitching over the throttle. On her right sat Paulina in her #77 Toyota Camry, the only ally she had left in this mess.

Two rows ahead of them, in the dark blue and gray #46 Ford Mustang, was Ale.

Dany narrowed her eyes. She could already feel the weight of the betrayal pressing down on her, a constant reminder that nothing would ever be the same.

"She’s not your sister on the track. She’s just another driver."

That’s what she kept telling herself.

The pace car pulled off, and the green flag dropped.

Immediately, Dany jumped on the throttle, her Camaro surging forward with a growl. She dove low into Turn 1, slicing past two cars as the field scrambled for position.

It didn’t take long for her to catch Ale.

Dany saw her up ahead, battling for fourth place. The Trackhouse Ford was strong—Ale was running the outside lane, using momentum to slingshot out of the turns. But Dany wasn’t about to let her win this fight.

With a smirk, she set her sights on the #46.

Coming out of Turn 3, Dany made her move. She charged up the inside, her front bumper just inches from Ale’s quarter panel. She knew exactly what she was doing—pressuring her, forcing her to make a mistake.

Ale didn’t flinch.

Instead, she cut down aggressively, nearly slamming into Dany’s nose.

“Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be?” Dany muttered under her breath.

Fine. If Ale wanted to race her like an enemy, she’d get exactly that.

The next lap, Dany sent it even deeper into the corner. This time, she did make contact, nudging Ale’s rear bumper just enough to make the #46 slide up the track. Ale corrected, but not before losing a position.

Dany grinned. Your move, traitor.

Behind them, Paulina stayed out of the fight, running a smart, clean race. She was always thinking ahead, always playing the long game. But even she could feel the tension crackling between her sisters.

For twenty more laps, Dany and Ale traded blows, neither one willing to give an inch. The crowd loved it—two sisters, two former teammates, now bitter rivals going wheel to wheel.

With three laps to go, Ale finally retaliated.

Dany had just cleared her coming out of Turn 4 when Ale clipped her left rear quarter panel, sending the #22 Camaro sideways.

Dany’s reflexes kicked in, and she somehow managed to save it, but by the time she got the car straight, Ale was gone—off in the distance, crossing the finish line in fourth place.

Dany finished seventh.

As soon as she parked on pit road, she ripped off her helmet, threw it onto the roof of the car, and stormed toward Ale’s hauler.

The cameras followed. The entire world was watching.

Ale barely had time to unbuckle before Dany was in her face. “What the hell was that?”

Ale didn’t even blink. “Racing.”

Dany let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, that’s how we’re playing this? Got it.”

Ale turned to walk away, but Dany grabbed her arm. “You wanna race me like I’m just another driver? Fine. But don’t expect me to hold back.”

Ale yanked her arm away. “I never expected you to.”

And with that, she disappeared into the hauler.

Dany stood there, chest heaving, fists clenched.

This wasn’t over. Not even close.

---

Paulina was sitting on a stack of tires, her fire suit tied around her waist, when the team owner of Joe Gibbs Racing, Coach Joe Gibbs himself, approached.

“Paulina, got a minute?” he asked in his calm, measured tone.

Paulina stood, brushing her hands on her fire suit. “Of course, Coach.”

He led her into the hauler, where a few other team executives were waiting.

“We’ve been watching you,” Gibbs said, folding his arms. “You’re one of the smartest racers out there. You don’t waste your equipment, you don’t take unnecessary risks, and you know how to play the long game. That’s the kind of driver we want at Joe Gibbs Racing.”

Paulina blinked. “Wait… are you saying—”

“We want you in the #77 full-time. With our team.”

Her heart pounded. This was huge. Hendrick had been her home, but the truth was, after Ale’s departure, things felt… off. It wasn’t just about Dany’s anger—it was about her own future.

She could stay with Hendrick, but she’d always be stuck in Dany’s shadow. At Gibbs, she could be her own driver.

She exhaled slowly. “I need to think about it.”

Gibbs nodded. “Take your time. But I’d make a decision soon. We believe in you, Paulina.”

She left the hauler with her mind racing.

By the time she got back to her hotel room, she had already made up her mind.

She grabbed her phone and sent a single text.

To: Dany
We need to talk.

Because soon, she wouldn’t just be her sister’s only ally.

She’d be racing against her too.

Chapter Text

Race: Daytona 500 Qualifying Duels – Daytona International Speedway
Days Until the Daytona 500: 12

---

"We need to talk."

Dany read the text over and over again, her stomach twisting into knots.

She had barely cooled down from the Busch Light Clash, the bitterness of Ale’s betrayal still burning in her chest, and now Pau wanted to talk. Dany already knew what it was about. The rumors had been spreading fast—Joe Gibbs Racing was after Pau, and if the rumors were true, Pau was considering leaving.

That meant one thing: Dany was about to be completely alone.

She clenched her jaw and fired back a simple response.

To: Pau
Fine. Meet me at the hauler.

---

Paulina walked in a few minutes later, her expression unreadable. She had always been the one to keep her emotions in check, the one who thought before she spoke, but Dany could tell this wasn’t easy for her.

“Spit it out,” Dany said, arms crossed as she leaned against the wall. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?”

Paulina exhaled. “Yeah.”

Dany scoffed, shaking her head. “Just like that? You’re walking away? After everything?”

Pau stepped closer, lowering her voice. “Dany, it’s not like that.”

“Then tell me what it is like,” Dany snapped. “Because first, Ale stabs us in the back, and now you? Is it me? Am I the problem?”

Paulina’s eyes darkened. “Don’t do that.”

Dany pushed off the wall. “Then what the hell am I supposed to think? The team we built—our team—is falling apart, and you’re just okay with that?”

Paulina sighed, rubbing her temples. “Dany, you know I love you. But I need to do what’s right for my career. Joe Gibbs Racing is giving me a shot to be a real contender. They believe in me. This isn’t about you—it’s about me.”

Dany let out a bitter laugh. “That’s exactly what Ale said.”

Paulina stiffened, but she didn’t argue.

Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.

Finally, Dany exhaled and looked away. “You could’ve told me sooner.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” Pau admitted.

Dany swallowed hard. “Yeah, well… too late for that.”

Paulina hesitated. “You don’t have to do this alone, you know.”

Dany met her gaze, eyes hard. “I already am.”

Paulina didn’t argue. She just nodded. “See you on the track.”

And just like that, she was gone.

Dany clenched her fists. First Ale. Now Pau.

Fine. She didn’t need them.

She’d prove she could win without them.

---

Two 150-mile races. Two chances to lock in a starting position for the biggest race of the year.

Dany rolled out onto the high banks of Daytona, gripping the wheel of her #22 Chevrolet Camaro. She didn’t care about points, didn’t care about playing nice. This was personal.

The lineup was set. Paulina was in the first duel, running for her new team, while Dany and Ale would face off in the second.

Paulina’s duel was first.

Dany watched from the pit box, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. Pau was good—damn good. She didn’t let emotions cloud her judgment, didn’t make reckless moves. She stuck to her strategy, saving tires, staying in the draft, waiting for the perfect moment.

With two laps to go, she made her move, slicing through the pack like a surgeon. In a calculated, flawless slingshot, she powered past the leader and crossed the finish line in third place.

A strong start. No mistakes. No risks.

Typical Pau.

Dany turned away before the interviews started. She didn’t need to hear whatever PR-approved line Pau had rehearsed about her “exciting new opportunity.”

Now, it was her turn.

---

The green flag waved, and immediately, the intensity ramped up.

Dany surged forward, tucking into the draft. Ale was running in third, just a few cars ahead, her #46 Trackhouse Ford darting between lanes, waiting for an opening.

They were only twenty laps in when Ale made her move.

Dany saw it coming—the Bass Drop.

Ale dove low, threading the needle in a three-wide pass between the leader and the apron, something only she would dare to try. The crowd roared as she shot forward, gaining two spots in a single corner.

But Dany wasn’t about to let her steal the show.

As soon as Ale pulled even with her, Dany slammed the door shut.

She cut down hard, forcing Ale to react fast. The #46 wobbled, Ale yanking the wheel to keep control, but it was too late—her right-side tires scraped the wall.

The impact sent sparks flying, and for a second, it looked like Ale might spin. But she held on, keeping the car straight.

Still, she’d lost momentum.

Dany smirked. Not today, little sister.

The race stayed tense. Dany held her ground, Ale fought to recover, and the battle raged all the way to the checkered flag.

Dany finished fourth.

Ale crossed the line seventh.

After parking on pit road, Dany climbed out of the car, helmet still on, heart still pounding. She knew Ale was furious.

Good.

Let her be mad.

Because this was just the beginning.

Chapter Text

Race: Daytona 500 – Daytona International Speedway
Days Until the Daytona 500: 0

---

The Great American Race.

It all came down to this. The Daytona 500 wasn’t just another race—it was the race. The one that defined legacies, the one every driver wanted to win.

For Dany, Ale, and Pau, it was more than just a trophy.

It was about proving who was the best.

The Villarreal sisters had gone from teammates to enemies, and now, under the blistering Florida sun, they were about to settle it the only way they knew how—at 200 miles per hour.

---

Paulina started mid-pack in her #77 Joe Gibbs Toyota, playing it safe as the field settled into a steady rhythm.

Ale, still seething from her run-in with Dany during the Duels, ran aggressively in the top ten, making bold moves early.

Dany, as always, refused to sit back. She pushed forward immediately, sending it three-wide whenever she saw an opening.

For the first 60 laps, it was controlled chaos.

Pit strategy played a huge role, with Dany’s team opting for short stops to keep her up front, while Pau conserved fuel, stretching her runs longer. Ale? She was unpredictable as ever, bouncing between lines, testing the limits.

By the end of Stage 1, Pau had positioned herself solidly in fifth. Dany was second. Ale, after a daring high-side pass, finished fourth.

The battle lines were drawn.

---

The intensity cranked up in Stage 2. The draft became more aggressive, bumpers getting closer, blocks becoming sharper.

Dany and Ale found themselves fighting for the lead, neither willing to give an inch. Every pass was met with a counterattack. Every block was followed by retaliation.

Paulina watched from a few cars back, gripping the wheel.

They’re going to wreck each other.

Ale made a move low, trying to pull another move.

Dany saw it coming.

She blocked hard.

Ale barely avoided disaster, her tires skimming the apron before she snapped the car back up, slotting in behind Dany.

But the message was clear: Dany wasn’t letting her win.

Paulina stayed patient, avoiding the fight. By the time Stage 2 ended, she was still in the top five, while Ale and Dany traded spots in the top three.

They were on a collision course.

Everyone knew it.

---

Lap 150. Fifty to go.

The pack was tight, drafting at nearly 200 mph, inches apart.

Ale, Dany, and Pau were all in contention. Three sisters. Three different teams. One trophy.

With ten laps to go, the gloves came off.

Dany and Ale went to war.

Ale made an aggressive move to the outside, trying to slingshot past Dany.

Dany, refusing to back down, threw a late block.

Ale barely lifted to avoid a wreck, but she wasn’t done.

She regrouped. Waited.

With five laps to go, she attacked again, this time diving low into Turn 3.

Dany, anticipating it, reacted a split-second too late.

They touched.

At 200 miles per hour, even the slightest contact was deadly.

Dany’s rear fender clipped Ale’s front bumper, sending her sideways.

Ale tried to correct it, but it was too late—her car snapped right into Dany’s door.

And then—

Chaos.

Dany and Ale spun violently, collecting half the field in a massive chain-reaction crash.

Smoke. Screeching metal. Cars flipping, slamming into the wall, debris scattering across the track.

Paulina saw it unfold in front of her.

React.

She swerved low, missing a spinning car by inches, squeezing through the carnage untouched.

By the time she shot back onto the racing line, the caution flag was already flying.

Behind her, half the field sat wrecked.

Dany’s car was destroyed, the front end caved in from the impact. Ale’s Mustang sat smoking in the infield, the right side shredded from scraping the wall.

Paulina’s spotter came over the radio.

"You’re in second, Pau. One lap shootout coming up."

Dany and Ale were done.

Now, it was her moment.

---

The field lined up for the final restart—a one-lap dash to determine the Daytona 500 champion.

Paulina, calm as ever, didn’t let emotion cloud her judgment.

When the green flag waved, she executed flawlessly.

A perfect push. A clean move to the inside.

And when the checkered flag waved—

Paulina Villarreal finished ahead of both her sisters.

She didn’t win the Daytona 500, but she beat them.

And in that moment, that was enough.

---

The infield care center was chaotic.

Dany and Ale had walked away from the crash—physically fine, but neither in a talking mood.

Paulina, still catching her breath, had barely unbuckled before a NASCAR official approached.

"We’re reviewing Ale’s move on Dany. Might have been reckless driving."

Paulina tensed. “You mean Dany’s block?”

The official didn’t answer.

The crash had been violent. Avoidable? Maybe. Intentional? No one knew for sure.

One thing was clear—NASCAR wasn’t letting this go.

Paulina glanced toward the wrecked cars.

Ale sat on a stack of tires, arms crossed, jaw clenched. Dany stood a few feet away, staring at the remains of her car, hands on her hips, silent.

The rivalry had just exploded for the whole world to see.

Chapter Text

Race: Post-Daytona 500 Fallout – Daytona International Speedway
Days Until the Next Race: 6

---

The wreck should’ve been the end of it.

But for Dany and Ale, it was just the beginning.

Smoke still lingered in the air as crews worked to clean up the wreckage from the last-lap disaster. The crowd was still roaring, the replays still running in slow motion across every giant screen in the infield.

And every damn camera in Daytona was now focused on two people—

Dany Villarreal and Ale Villarreal.

---

Dany ripped off her helmet and stormed toward the garage, rage pumping through her veins. The right side of her firesuit was still streaked with dirt, the adrenaline still making her hands shake.

Ale was already there, sitting on a stack of tires, drinking from a water bottle like she hadn’t just taken Dany out of the biggest race of the season.

Paulina saw what was coming before it happened. She had just finished media when she turned and spotted Dany—marching like a damn war drum, jaw clenched, eyes set on one target.

Pau’s stomach dropped.

This was about to get ugly.

Before she could intervene, Dany was already on top of Ale.

“You’re a reckless piece of—”

Ale shot to her feet, tossing the water bottle aside. “Say it. Go ahead.”

“You wrecked me.” Dany’s voice was ice-cold. “You wrecked half the damn field.”

Ale stepped closer, toe to toe with her sister. “I made a move. You blocked too late. That’s on you.”

Dany shoved her.

Not hard, but enough. Enough to make Ale’s eyes flash.

Ale shoved back. Harder.

Pau sprinted toward them, but it was already escalating.

Dany swung an arm, not quite a punch but close enough that the cameras swarmed, flashing like wildfire.

Security rushed in. Crew members from both teams pushed between them.

“Enough!”

It was Justin Marks, Ale’s team owner, shoving his way into the middle of the fight. Rick Hendrick, Dany’s boss, was right behind him.

Dany was still trying to lunge at Ale. Ale wasn’t backing down.

Marks glared at Ale. “What the hell are you doing?”

Hendrick turned to Dany. “You want to wreck your season before it even starts?”

Neither sister answered.

Because they didn’t care.

This wasn’t about team orders. Or owners. Or points.

This was personal.
---

Paulina finally forced herself between them, arms out. “Enough.”

Neither looked at her.

Pau clenched her fists. “This is exactly what people want. They want us at each other’s throats. They want us fighting for headlines instead of wins.”

Dany scoffed. “Don’t act like you’re above this, Pau. You’re conveniently the one who avoided the wreck. The one who finished ahead.”

Paulina narrowed her eyes. “I was smart. I stayed out of it. You two were too busy acting like idiots.”

Ale snorted. “Idiots, huh?”

Paulina turned to her. “You wrecked half the field, Ale. What the hell did you think was going to happen?”

Ale shrugged. “I thought I was gonna win.”

Dany lunged again, but a Hendrick Motorsports crew member grabbed her arm before she could get past.

Hendrick exhaled sharply and turned to her. “Cool it. Now.”

Justin Marks, still pissed, pointed at Ale. “Same goes for you. If NASCAR parks you next week, that’s on you.”

Ale wiped sweat off her forehead, eyes still locked on Dany. “Maybe they should park her for that garbage block.”

“Are you kidding me—” Dany started, but Hendrick pulled her back.

Marks shook his head. “Neither of you wins if you’re sitting at home watching from the couch.”

Dany’s breathing was sharp, heavy. Ale’s fists were clenched at her sides.

The cameras were still rolling.

Paulina exhaled. “This isn’t over, is it?”

Neither of them answered.

Chapter Text

Race: Atlanta Motor Speedway – Ambetter Health 400
Days Until the Next Race: 0

---

Atlanta Motor Speedway was hot—not just the temperature, but the tension.

The fallout from Daytona was still fresh, and every journalist, fan, and team member knew it. The rivalry between Dany and Ale wasn’t just personal anymore. It was the story of the NASCAR season.

Everywhere Dany turned, there were replays of the Daytona wreck. Every question in interviews was about Ale. And every damn highlight package played the post-race fight, slow motion, frame by frame.

The whole world wanted to see what would happen next.

And Dany?

She was about to give them a show.

---

From the moment the green flag waved, Dany made her intentions clear.

Ale’s #46 Ford Mustang got a strong start, cutting through the pack fast. She was fearless on superspeedways, and Atlanta’s new configuration had turned the track into a miniature Daytona—drafting, pack racing, aggressive moves.

Dany was running in the top ten in her #22 Camaro, but every time Ale got near her, she made damn sure to block every lane, stall every run, force her to lift.

Lap after lap, Ale tried to find a way around.

Lap after lap, Dany slammed the door shut.

Paulina, running a steady race in her #77 Toyota, sighed as she watched it unfold.

Here we go again.

---

The aggression ramped up as pit stops cycled through. Ale’s team nailed a perfect stop, putting her in the top five. Dany’s crew went for a faster two-tire change, keeping her right in front of Ale.

It was inevitable they were going to fight for position.

Lap 120.

Ale got a huge run off Turn 2, taking the inside lane. It was a clean move, until Dany saw it coming.

At the last possible second, Dany threw a hard block.

Too late.

Ale was already committed.

Their cars touched. Ale’s front bumper clipped Dany’s left rear.

And suddenly, Ale’s Mustang snapped sideways.

She fought the wheel, but it was useless.

The car skidded across the track, spinning violently through the infield grass.

Dirt and debris exploded into the air as Ale finally came to a stop.

The caution flag waved, and the crowd went insane.

In the Hendrick Motorsports pit box, Dany’s crew chief radioed in.

"That might’ve been too far, kid."

Dany didn’t care.

Ale had wrecked her at Daytona.

Now they were even.

---

Ale’s radio crackled as she caught her breath.

"Car okay?" her crew chief asked.

Ale gritted her teeth, slamming her fist on the wheel. "I don’t care. I want her gone."

She pulled the car onto pit road, where her crew rushed in to check the damage.

Behind them, cameras were already swarming.

Justin Marks stormed up to a group of NASCAR officials, waving his hands furiously. "That was a deliberate wreck! What the hell are we doing here?"

Hendrick Motorsports wasn’t backing down.

Dany’s team owner, Rick Hendrick, stood tall. "She blocked late. That’s racing."

Ale’s crew wasn’t having it.

Mechanics pointed at the replay on pit road screens, showing the moment of contact.

"She wrecked her on purpose!"

"This is bull—"

Security had to step in before pit crews started throwing hands.

Paulina, still sitting in her car under caution, sighed heavily.

This wasn’t just a sibling rivalry anymore.

This was turning into a full-blown war.

Chapter Text

Race: Circuit of the Americas – EchoPark Automotive Grand Prix
Days Until the Next Race: 0

---

Paulina Villarreal needed this race.

After two weeks of watching her sisters implode on national television, she was done being a bystander in the circus. The drama had sucked all the air out of the room—every press conference, every interview, every damn social media post was about Dany vs. Ale.

Not about racing. Not about strategy. Not about her.

But today, at COTA, that was going to change.

This wasn’t Daytona, where chaos ruled. It wasn’t Atlanta, where revenge took the wheel.

This was her kind of race. A road course. A thinking driver’s track.

And no one was going to take it from her.

---

Pau rolled off the grid in third, behind a pair of road-course specialists. She wasn’t the flashiest driver out there, but what she lacked in raw aggression, she made up for in strategy.

From the drop of the green flag, she went to work.

While Dany and Ale fought their way through the field—rubbing fenders, dive-bombing corners, making every lap a damn warzone—Pau played the long game.

She didn’t burn up her tires trying to make an early move.

She didn’t waste fuel over-driving the esses.

She kept it smooth. Clean. Smart.

And when the first pit cycle came, she made her move.

While most drivers pitted under green around lap 12, Pau stayed out.

She lifted early into corners. Coasted where others braked. Saved every ounce of fuel.

By the time the rest of the leaders came in for their second stop, she was still out there.

Paulina Villarreal was now the leader.

---

Somewhere behind her, Ale and Dany were in their own world.

The wreck at Atlanta had set them off. NASCAR officials had called it a racing incident, but Ale’s team didn’t forget. And Ale sure as hell didn’t forgive.

On Lap 23, it boiled over.

Dany went for a late-braking pass in Turn 1.

Ale didn’t move.

Contact.

Dany’s Chevy bumped Ale’s Mustang wide, forcing her onto the runoff.

Ale didn’t back off.

She came back onto the track with a vengeance, diving into Turn 3 like she didn’t give a damn if they both ended up in the gravel.

More contact.

Pau heard it over the radio before she saw it.

"22 and 46 are at it again," her spotter muttered. "They’re gonna wreck each other before this is over."

Pau gritted her teeth.

Of course they were.

Of course, on her best day, these two would still be the story.

But she wasn’t going to let them take this from her.

---

With five laps to go, fuel was everything.

The lead pack had to pit one more time. Pau? She didn’t.

Her fuel-saving gamble had worked. While the rest of the field dived onto pit road, she stayed out.

Her crew chief’s voice came through the radio, steady and calm.

"You’re good. Just make it last."

Pau focused on every corner. Every braking zone. Every shift.

She knew Dany and Ale were still duking it out somewhere behind her. The crowd gasped at something in Turn 12, but she didn’t care.

All she cared about was the checkered flag.

Two laps to go.

Her Toyota rolled through the esses, smooth as silk.

One lap to go.

The fuel gauge flickered.

She lifted. Coasted. Trusted the plan.

The final turn came. The grandstands blurred past.

And Paulina Villarreal crossed the finish line first.

She had won at COTA.

---

Pau let out a breath, gripping the wheel as the adrenaline hit.

She had done it.

Her first win of the season.

But as she pulled up to do her burnout, something was off.

The crowd wasn’t as loud as it should’ve been. The cameras weren’t all pointed at her.

Her name wasn’t the one being screamed over the radio waves.

No.

Because while she had won, Dany and Ale had stolen the show again.

She heard it before she saw it on the big screen.

On the last lap, Ale had gone for one final desperate dive-bomb into Turn 12. Dany didn’t give an inch.

The two collided—hard.

Dany’s car spun into the gravel, Ale’s car skidded sideways, barely saving it.

Dany climbed out of her car, furious.

Ale did the same.

And then they went after each other.

Pau sat in her car, gripping the steering wheel tighter.

The cameras should have been on her.

The headlines should have been about her win.

Instead, all anyone cared about was the fight breaking out in Turn 12.

Paulina Villarreal had finally gotten her moment.

And it had already been stolen.

Chapter Text

Race: Circuit of the Americas – Post-Race Brawl
Days Until the Next Race: 7

---

The moment Dany’s car slammed into the gravel, she knew she was hurt.

Her head snapped against the headrest, her vision went blurry for a second, and her left arm throbbed from the impact. But the pain barely registered because all she could see was Ale’s car, still rolling away after that last desperate move.

"Are you okay? Dany, talk to me."

Her crew chief’s voice crackled through the radio.

Dany ripped her helmet off, ignoring the dizziness that followed. Her cheek burned, something warm dripping down the side of her face. Her fire suit sleeve was torn, and beneath it, she saw red—blood, smeared across her arm.

Didn’t matter.

She shoved the car door open and climbed out.

The Texas sun beat down on her, but the only thing she saw was red.

Ale had wrecked her again.

And this time, Dany wasn’t walking away.

---

Ale had barely made it out of her car before she heard the roar of the crowd.

It wasn’t for the winner. It wasn’t for the burnout.

No.

It was for the fight they all saw coming.

Her back ached from the impact, and her nose dripped blood onto her fire suit. But she didn’t have time to care.

Because Dany was coming.

Stalking down the pit road, fists clenched, jaw tight, eyes burning with rage.

"Are you serious?!" Dany shouted, her voice barely over the roaring engines still cooling down around them.

Ale wiped her nose with the back of her glove, still catching her breath.

"You blocked me. What the hell did you expect?"

Dany lunged.

Ale barely had time to brace before Dany shoved her, hard, sending her stumbling backward. The second Ale regained her footing, she shoved right back.

It was all it took.

The tension snapped.

Dany swung first.

It wasn’t her cleanest punch—she was still woozy from the wreck—but it connected, landing right against Ale’s shoulder. Ale fired back, landing a hard right on Dany’s already bleeding cheek.

Security was already sprinting toward them, but it was too late.

Dany grabbed Ale by the collar of her fire suit and drove her backward against the pit wall. Ale grunted in pain as her already sore back took the impact, but she didn’t back down.

She grabbed Dany’s arm—the one that was already cut and bleeding—and squeezed it harshly.

Dany yelled in pain, yanking her arm back. That moment of hesitation was all Ale needed to flip their positions, pinning Dany against the concrete barrier.

"Say it," Ale growled, her nose still leaking blood down her chin. "Say this is your fault!"

"Like hell it is!" Dany snarled, grabbing Ale’s wrist and twisting it free.

They were seconds away from going at it again when security finally ripped them apart.

Crew members from both teams jumped in, shoving, yelling, blocking the cameras that were already catching every second.

Paulina had barely finished her cooldown lap when her radio blew up.

"Dany and Ale are fighting," her spotter said. "It’s bad."

Paulina’s stomach sank.

Of course.

Her win was already an afterthought.

---

NASCAR officials swarmed both of them, forcing Dany and Ale apart, but the damage was done.

Dany’s left arm was smeared with blood, a nasty gash visible through her torn fire suit. Her cheek had a deep cut from the impact, and she was still seeing double from the probable concussion she had just ignored.

Ale’s face was a mess. Her nose was busted, dripping onto the collar of her suit. Her back was screaming in pain, a reminder that the hit she had taken had been harder than she wanted to admit.

Justin Marks, Ale’s team owner, was already in the officials' faces.

"This is out of control! If NASCAR doesn’t step in, I will."

Rick Hendrick wasn’t far behind, standing firm with his arms crossed.

"Your driver wrecked mine. Again. What did you expect?"

Officials didn’t care who was right. They just wanted the fire put out.

One of them pointed at Dany.

"You. Medical now. You might have a concussion."

Another pointed at Ale.

"And you. If you don’t get checked out, you’re parked next week."

Neither of them fought it.

Because neither of them felt like winners.

But they weren’t done yet.

As security pulled them in opposite directions, Ale glared back at Dany, wiping blood off her face.

"This isn’t over."

Dany’s breathing was ragged, her heart pounding, rage still boiling.

"It never is."

This was just the beginning.

Chapter Text

Days Until the Next Race: 6

Paulina Villarreal sat in the Joe Gibbs Racing hauler, staring at the floor, her race suit still half-zipped, hands folded between her knees.

Her trophy from COTA sat on the counter. Untouched.

She should have been celebrating. She should have been doing interviews, smiling for pictures, drinking in the victory she had worked so damn hard for.

Instead, all she could hear were the commentators.

"And while Paulina Villarreal takes her first win of the season, all eyes are on the chaos between Dany and Ale—"

"A vicious post-race brawl between the Villarreal sisters overshadows Pau’s strategic victory at COTA—"

"Did Ale take things too far? Did Dany deserve it? Who’s to blame? Who’s right? Who’s wrong?"

No one was asking about her.

---

Pau took a deep breath and clenched her jaw, staring at the trophy again.

She had played the perfect strategy at COTA. Saved fuel like a pro. Executed every pit stop flawlessly. Took care of her tires when the others burned theirs up.

She had earned this win.

And yet, the moment she stepped out of the car, everything was about them.

Dany and Ale. The brawl. The blood. The wreck.

Her victory was nothing more than a footnote.

She had seen the headlines.

"Dany and Ale’s Rivalry Explodes—Is This the Biggest NASCAR Feud in Years?"

"Dany Leaves COTA Bloody, Ale Leaves Furious—What's Next?"

No one gave a damn that Pau had won.

No one ever did.

---

It had always been this way.

Dany, the eldest, the leader. The one with the natural talent, the speed, the aggression. The one who made impossible moves and forced the world to watch.

Ale, the youngest, the wild card. The one who had raw, reckless skill, the one who would rather go down swinging than play it safe.

And Pau?

The one in the middle. The one who did everything right but never got the spotlight.

She had been okay with that—at first.

She didn’t need to be the center of attention. She didn’t crave the drama, the chaos, the headlines. She had built her success on consistency, strategy, patience.

But right now, sitting alone with a trophy no one cared about, something inside her cracked.

Why did it always have to be them?

Why did her biggest career moment have to be overshadowed by their war?

Why couldn’t they see what they were doing to her?

---

Her phone buzzed.

She already knew what it was before she even looked.

Group text. The three of them.

Dany: Guess I’m not racing next week. NASCAR’s making me sit out. Concussion protocol.

Ale: I’ll be there. Don’t expect me to go easy on you, Paulina.

Pau stared at the screen.

She should have been worried about Dany. She should have been trying to fix this.

But all she felt was anger.

Their war had consequences.

It wasn’t just about them. It was about her, too.

And maybe… just maybe… it was time they realized it.

Chapter Text

Race: Talladega Superspeedway
Days Until the Next Race: 14

---

Talladega was alive. 200 miles per hour. 40 cars. Inches apart.

The draft ruled everything here—if you weren’t tucked behind another car, riding the slipstream, you were nothing but a sitting duck. Every driver in the field was fighting for control, pushing 200 mph, knowing that at any second, one wrong move could end their race in an explosion of smoke and metal.

It was chaos.

And Ale lived for it.

She had been waiting for the right moment all day. She had stayed patient, biding her time. But now, with just a few laps to go, she saw her opening.

Dany was running second, her Chevy locked onto the leader’s bumper, ready to strike.

Pau was hanging back in seventh, playing it safe, watching, waiting.

Ale?

She was done waiting.

This was her moment.

She dropped low, diving beneath the car in front of her, barely squeezing her Ford into a space that shouldn’t have existed.

Her spotter’s voice crackled in her ear— “Not clear! Not clear!”

Too late.

---

Dany saw it happen a fraction of a second before it did.

Ale had gone for the Bass Drop move—a three-wide divebomb in the middle of a Talladega draft pack.

It was insane. It was stupid.

It was Ale.

Dany’s instincts kicked in. She threw a block, just enough to force Ale higher, trying to pinch her into the wall and stop the move before it happened.

But Ale didn’t lift.

Neither did the driver behind her.

Contact.

Ale’s rear bumper wiggled, just for a moment—

Then everything exploded.

The impact sent Ale’s Ford spinning sideways in front of the entire field.

At 200 mph, there was nowhere to go.

One car clipped her rear fender. Another T-boned her in the door. Someone else got caught in the crossfire, launching airborne before slamming hood-first onto the asphalt.

Engines screamed. Metal crunched. Smoke filled the air.

The Big One had arrived.

---

Pau saw it happen too late.

One moment, she was watching Ale and Dany battle up ahead. The next, she was staring at a wall of wreckage, cars flying in every direction.

No way out.

Her spotter’s voice was screaming.

"Check up! Check up! Low! LOW!"

She cut the wheel left, praying she’d find a gap, but a spinning car suddenly appeared right in her path.

Oh, God—

The impact detonated.

Her body snapped forward. Her head slammed into the headrest.

A second hit—harder.

Her car lifted.

She wasn’t on the ground anymore.

Spinning. Spinning.

Then—silence.

---

Dany and Ale had somehow made it through.

Ale’s car was battered, but still running. Dany had barely escaped the carnage by inches.

When the caution flew, the two sisters breathed for the first time.

Then they heard the radio.

"77 is wrecked. Bad."

Dany’s blood went cold.

Pau.

She scanned the track, looking for the red and black Toyota she knew too well.

And then she saw it.

Crushed.

Bent metal. Smoke curling from the engine.

Not moving.

"Ale," Dany’s voice shook over the radio. "I don’t see her getting out."

Ale had never felt fear like this before.

Because Pau was always the careful one.

She never got wrecked like this.

The track was silent as the safety crews reached the scene.

And then, finally—

The window net on Pau’s car didn’t drop.

Dany and Ale stopped breathing.

---

Paulina woke up to the sound of beeping.

Her whole body ached. Something cold was in her arm—an IV. Her head was pounding.

For a moment, she didn’t know where she was.

Then she heard them.

"Damn it, Pau, why didn’t you back out?"

Dany’s voice, tight with anger. With fear.

"Because she shouldn’t have had to!"

Ale, snapping back, her voice raw.

Pau forced her eyes open.

Her sisters were standing at the foot of her hospital bed, still in their fire suits, still covered in sweat and dirt.

Still fighting.

Over her.

She swallowed, her throat dry.

"Did I win?" she rasped, trying to force a weak smile.

The room went silent.

Ale exhaled, shaking her head.

Dany sat down in the chair next to the bed and just looked at her.

"You scared the hell out of us, Pau."

Paulina sighed.

"I scared myself."

Ale crossed her arms, looking at the ground.

"...I caused that, didn’t I?"

Dany clenched her jaw. "Yeah. You did."

Ale didn’t argue. She couldn’t.

Because for the first time, she realized—this wasn’t just about them anymore.

It never had been.

Chapter Text

Race: Charlotte Motor Speedway
Days Until the Next Race: 7

---

Paulina Villarreal was back.

Sort of.

Her body still ached from Talladega’s disaster. The bruises were fading, but the pain lingered—her ribs protested every deep breath, and the concussion symptoms came and went like a bad dream. She had spent four days in the hospital, another week sidelined, forced to watch the last race from a couch instead of a cockpit.

And worst of all?

Dany and Ale had barely spoken since the wreck.

Not to each other. Not to her.

Pau was sick of it.

Sick of the silence. Sick of the war between them.

She wanted to move forward. Wanted to race. Wanted to prove that Talladega hadn’t broken her.

That’s why she showed up at Charlotte ready.

Helmet in hand. Fire suit zipped.

But then the garage went to hell.

---

"Where the hell is it?"

Pau froze as she stepped into the Joe Gibbs garage, confusion twisting in her gut.

Her backup car—the one she was supposed to qualify in—was gone.

Crew members were scrambling. Mechanics were checking security footage. Her crew chief was on the phone, face red with frustration.

"This is a joke, right?" Pau asked, voice tight.

Her crew chief, Derek, turned to her. He wasn’t laughing.

"Not a joke." He ran a hand through his hair. "The car’s gone, Pau. Someone took it last night."

She felt her heart drop.

A stolen NASCAR race car? That didn’t just happen.

Unless it was intentional.

Unless someone had meant to steal it.

Her mind raced. This had to be some kind of mistake. Maybe a transport mix-up, maybe a—

Then she heard a crew member mutter something.

And her blood went cold.

"Think Trackhouse had something to do with it?"

Ale’s team.

Pau’s hands clenched into fists.

---

Ale’s garage was two stalls over.

Pau didn’t bother walking—she stormed.

Ale was leaning against her Ford, sipping an energy drink, chatting with her crew chief when Pau shoved her way through the team.

"Where is it?" Pau snapped.

Ale blinked. "Where’s what?"

"My car." Pau’s voice was razor-sharp. "Your team take it?"

Ale’s crew stiffened.

Her crew chief, Steve, stepped in. "Watch what you’re saying, Villarreal."

Pau ignored him, eyes locked on Ale.

Ale pushed off the car, tossing the drink aside. "You seriously think I’d steal your damn car?"

"You tell me."

Ale’s face darkened. "I may race you hard, but I don’t need to pull that kind of crap."

"You needed a new backup after last week," Pau shot back. "Maybe you decided mine was good enough."

Ale’s jaw tightened. "You have no idea what you’re talking about."

Pau wanted to believe her.

But everything about this season had been messy, reckless. Ale had already proven she was willing to take dangerous risks.

What was one more?

"You really think I’d be that desperate?" Ale’s voice was low, cold.

Pau stared at her.

"I don’t know what to think anymore."

For the first time in weeks, something in Ale’s expression cracked.

But before either of them could say more, a commotion broke out in the Hendrick garage.

Dany’s garage.

---

Dany stood in the middle of her stall, arms crossed, expression murderous.

Her car was still there.

But something was wrong.

NASCAR officials swarmed the Chevy, mechanics standing off to the side, whispering.

Pau’s stomach twisted. "What now?"

She pushed through the crowd, Ale right behind her.

Dany barely acknowledged them as a NASCAR rep spoke to her crew chief.

"It wasn’t your team," the official said. "We caught someone tampering with the fuel system last night."

"Who?" Dany’s voice was pure ice.

A mechanic—one of her own—stood off to the side, hands behind his back, looking guilty as hell.

Pau’s pulse jumped.

This wasn’t just a stolen car.

This was an inside job.

Dany took a step toward the mechanic. "You were gonna sabotage my car?"

The guy looked ready to bolt. "I—it wasn’t—"

"Why?" Dany’s voice demanded blood.

Silence.

The official sighed. "We’re still investigating. But from what we’ve gathered… he wasn’t working alone."

Pau’s stomach dropped.

This wasn’t just about her missing car.

This was something bigger.

And for the first time in her life, she was afraid of what came next.

Chapter Text

Race: Bristol Motor Speedway (Night Race)
Days Until the Next Race: 4

---

The night race at Bristol was always a spectacle—a chaotic ballet of metal and rubber. The track, half the size of a standard oval, forced drivers to stay on their toes, constantly adjusting to avoid contact while trying to pick the right moment to make their move. The turns were sharp, the walls closer than ever, and the high banks provided a false sense of security. At Bristol, anything could happen.

And tonight, something was going to happen.

---

It was inevitable.

After weeks of built-up frustration, Dany Villarreal could feel the heat in her chest the moment the race began. Her #22 Chevrolet Camaro ZL1 was fast—too fast for anyone to keep up with—but her mind wasn’t on the track. It was on the car right behind her: Ale’s #46 Ford Mustang.

She knew Ale had been gunning for her all season. From the moment the two collided in the Daytona 500 to the wreck at Talladega, Dany could sense that Ale was out for blood. It was becoming more personal with every race.

Tonight would be no different.

Dany was on edge, every bump of the car, every turn of the wheel, pushing her closer to the edge. She blocked Ale every chance she got, weaving left and right to keep her sister behind.

The crowd could feel it—the building tension in the air. The cars screamed around the track, engines roaring as they made lap after lap. But all eyes were on the two sisters.

The feud had reached a boiling point.

---

By the halfway point, Dany and Ale were neck and neck, both moving with incredible speed.

Dany slammed the gas pedal down, taking the high line to defend her position. But Ale was persistent—too persistent. She stayed glued to Dany’s bumper, waiting for the smallest mistake.

Dany felt it. Ale was pushing harder now.

“Not tonight,” Dany muttered under her breath.

She threw the car into the turn, sliding slightly, almost daring Ale to try something. And she did.

Ale made a daring move on the inside, cutting down low and attempting to push past. But Dany was ready. At the last second, she slammed her car down into Ale’s, forcing her sister to fight for control. The two made contact—a loud, sickening thud echoed through the night air.

The crowd was on their feet, screaming as the two cars traded bumpers, sliding and swerving through the tight turns. It wasn’t just racing anymore; it was a fight.

Dany gritted her teeth, holding her line as Ale kept forcing her way in. The tension was unbearable, the air thick with animosity.

But in the chaos, it was clear that neither was willing to back down.

---

The laps clicked down—just a few to go. Dany could feel her tires starting to fade, but she pushed harder, desperate to hold her lead. She couldn’t afford to let Ale pass her now.

One more lap.

Dany saw Ale’s #46 car drop low again, making another attempt to get around. She felt a flash of panic. There was no way she was going to let Ale win this one.

But as they entered Turn 3, something changed.

Ale was too aggressive—her car came up too high, just enough to tap the wall. It wasn’t a big hit, but it was enough to send her into a spin.

Ale’s car slid sideways, grinding against the barrier before finally spinning out of control. The crowd gasped as the cars behind her swerved to avoid the wreck.

Dany’s eyes widened, but she didn’t hesitate. She slammed the throttle and took the win.

Victory was hers.

---

As Dany crossed the finish line, her hands were shaking, but a fierce grin split her face. She had done it. She had beaten Ale—again.

But the victory didn’t come without its aftermath.

As the cars rolled into the pit area, Dany saw Ale’s Mustang come to a halt in the infield, smoke pouring from its tires as she tried to gather herself. Her sister was furious—and rightfully so.

Dany’s team celebrated the win, but Dany couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to go down.

It was only a few moments later when Ale stormed toward her car, rage in her eyes.

“You’re unbelievable!” Ale shouted, her voice carrying across the pit. “You’re a damn wrecking ball!”

Dany climbed out of her car, the adrenaline still pumping through her veins. Her temper flared as she turned to face her sister. “You were the one who tried to pass me—again!” she snapped. “If you’d stayed back, maybe you wouldn’t have spun out!”

Ale didn’t take that well. She took a step forward, fists clenched. “You don’t get to talk to me like that!”

Dany took a step toward her, ready to fight back. “Maybe I should. Maybe I should remind you who’s the better driver!”

The two sisters stood inches apart, fury burning in their eyes. The pit crew had backed off, knowing better than to get involved in a confrontation like this.

But before the fight could escalate any further, a voice rang out.

“Enough.”

It was Pau.

The crowd quieted as Pau stepped between her two sisters, holding up her hands to keep them from getting any closer. Her face was hard, eyes full of exhaustion.

“I’ve had it.” Pau’s voice was cold but powerful, the weight of her words sinking in. “This needs to stop.”

Ale and Dany both stared at their sister, momentarily caught off guard.

Pau took a breath, her eyes flicking between the two. “I’m not going to sit back and watch you two destroy each other.” Her voice cracked slightly, but she pressed on. “We’re family. If this is what it’s come to—I’m done.”

The words hit harder than any punch. Pau wasn’t angry, she was disappointed.

She looked at each of them, the weight of her words settling like a heavy fog.

Enough was enough.

Dany and Ale stood in silence, but neither was ready to admit that Pau was right. But the message was clear—things had gone too far.

They just didn’t know how to stop the trainwreck that was their rivalry.

Not yet.

Chapter Text

Location: Trackhouse Racing Garage, Charlotte, NC
Days Until the Next Race: 3

---

The garage was silent except for the steady clank of a wrench against metal. The fluorescent lights flickered slightly, casting long shadows over the concrete floor, but Alejandra Villarreal didn’t notice.

She was too deep in her own world.

Her knuckles were raw, the skin scraped and red from gripping tools too tightly. Sweat dripped down her forehead despite the cool night air seeping in from the half-open garage door. Her #46 Ford Mustang sat in front of her, its front bumper slightly dented from the Bristol mess.

Her teeth clenched at the memory.

Dany had done it again.

Every time she tried to make a move, every time she put herself in a position to win, her sister made sure she didn’t. It was as if Dany had made it her personal mission to keep Ale beneath her, like she was less than.

Ale took a deep breath, but it didn’t help. The anger was still there. It was always there.

She had tried to drown it out before—tried to pretend it wasn’t eating away at her. But no matter how hard she pushed it down, it always came roaring back, hotter and more dangerous than before.

---

She wasn’t always like this.

There was a time when she could take a loss and shrug it off, when racing was about fun, about the thrill of the speed rather than the desperation to win at all costs.

But something changed.

It started small—tiny cracks forming beneath the surface. Maybe it was all the times she felt overlooked, playing the role of the youngest sister while Pau and Dany shined in the spotlight. Maybe it was when people said she was "too reckless" while praising Dany for being "fearlessly aggressive," as if there was a difference.

Or maybe it was the first time she realized that no matter how hard she pushed, no one ever seemed to take her as seriously as they did Dany.

She hated that.

And hate had a way of festering.

She saw it in her own reflection, the way her jaw clenched every time she caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror. The way she walked into every race expecting a fight. The way her hands shook when she thought about the next time Dany would block her, the next time she'd get cut off, the next time she’d be told to calm down.

She could still hear the condescending voices in her head—"Just be patient, Ale." "You take too many risks, Ale." "Dany knows what she's doing, you should follow her lead."

She never wanted to follow anyone’s lead.

Especially not Dany’s.

---

She wiped the sweat from her brow, her grip tightening around the wrench. Her Mustang had taken a beating, but she’d make sure it was ready.

She worked tirelessly, adjusting the suspension, fine-tuning every little detail. She knew her crew could handle it, but she needed to do this herself. She needed to feel in control of something.

Because right now, she felt like she was losing control of everything.

A low, frustrated growl left her throat as she threw the wrench against the tool cart. The sound echoed through the garage, bouncing off the walls, reminding her just how alone she was in that moment.

Her breathing was uneven, her vision blurred for a second.

She shut her eyes and forced herself to calm down.

She had lost count of how many times this had happened—how many times her anger had boiled over into something she couldn’t contain.

She hated that too.

Anger had always felt like the one thing that kept her going, the fire that pushed her forward, the thing that kept her from breaking. But sometimes, it felt like it was the very thing breaking her.

And she didn’t know how to stop it.

---

A noise from the garage entrance made Ale snap her head up.

She expected it to be a crew member, maybe her crew chief coming to tell her to get some sleep. But when she turned, she saw Pau standing there.

Her older sister was still bruised from the Talladega wreck, her arm bandaged and a faint scar visible just above her eyebrow. She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyes heavy with exhaustion.

"Couldn't sleep?" Pau asked softly.

Ale wiped her hands on a rag and exhaled sharply. "Something like that."

Pau didn’t say anything for a moment, just watched her. Ale could tell Pau knew what was going through her head, just like she always did. It was infuriating sometimes.

"You've been like this for a long time," Pau finally said, her voice careful. "Angry. Pissed off at the world. At Dany. At everything."

Ale scowled. "You think I don’t have a reason to be?"

"I didn’t say that," Pau replied evenly. "But I think you’re letting it consume you."

Ale let out a dry laugh, shaking her head. "Yeah? Maybe that's the only way to survive in this sport. Maybe Dany was right all along."

Pau frowned at that. "Dany’s not right about everything. And neither are you."

Ale turned away, gripping the edge of the workbench so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

"You're better than this, Ale." Pau’s voice was quieter now. "You always have been."

Ale swallowed hard, but she didn’t respond. She couldn’t.

Because deep down, she wasn’t sure if Pau was right anymore.

She wasn’t sure if she wanted to be better.

Maybe she was too far gone.

Maybe, at this point, she didn’t even care.

---

Pau didn’t push further. She just let out a small sigh, gave Ale one last look, and then turned to leave.

"Try to get some sleep," she said softly.

Ale watched her go, waiting until her footsteps disappeared down the hall before finally letting out a long, unsteady breath.

She turned back to her car, running her hand along the scratched-up paint.

She had a choice.

She could either let this consume her, let the anger drive her off a cliff, let it push her to self-destruction.

Or she could fight it.

But as she picked up the wrench again and tightened the bolts with a force that nearly stripped them, she knew the answer.

She wasn’t ready to let go of her anger.

Chapter Text

Location: Pau’s Hotel Room, Near the Track
Days Until the Next Race: 1

---

The hotel room was too quiet.

Paulina Villarreal lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, watching the slow rotation of the ceiling fan. The hum of the air conditioning was the only sound in the room, but it did nothing to drown out the noise inside her head.

She turned her head slightly, glancing at the digital clock on the nightstand. 2:47 AM.

Another sleepless night.

She sighed and sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. The moment she moved, a dull ache ran down her arm—the reminder of Talladega. Her fingers instinctively brushed against the faint scar on her forehead, the one she barely managed to avoid being worse.

The crash had shaken her.

Not just physically. Not just the whiplash, the bruises, the lingering soreness.

It had shaken something inside her.

The way her car had spun, the way metal crunched and twisted around her, the way the world had blurred into a dizzying mess of smoke and shattered glass—it had felt like an ending.

And for a split second, before she climbed out of the wreck, before she gasped for air, before she heard the distant screams of the crowd—she thought maybe she wouldn’t get back up.

Maybe she didn’t want to.

---

Pau ran a hand down her face, exhaling slowly.

She had told herself this was the right move.

Splitting up from her sisters, going to Joe Gibbs Racing, taking her own path—it was supposed to make things better. It was supposed to be her own legacy.

But all she had done was make everything worse.

Dany and Ale were at each other’s throats more than ever, their rivalry turning into something dangerous, something ugly. And now, here she was, stuck in the middle, feeling like she had no place in this war she never wanted.

She rubbed her temples, trying to push away the thoughts. But they clawed their way back, sharper than before.

Had she been selfish?

Had she abandoned them?

She thought back to the moment she signed with Joe Gibbs. The moment she shook hands, smiled for the cameras, told the world she was ready for this new chapter.

She had convinced herself she was making the right decision.

But deep down, had she known all along?

Had she known that she was tearing their family apart?

---

Pau stood up, walking toward the small hotel mirror above the sink. She hesitated before looking at herself, gripping the edges of the countertop.

She barely recognized the person staring back at her.

The exhaustion in her eyes. The weight in her expression. The doubt in every line on her face.

She used to be so sure of herself. So sure of who she was.

Now?

She just felt like a ghost of the person she used to be.

The worst part was the self-loathing creeping in.

Not just for the decisions she made.

But for the fact that she let herself start to hate racing.

She had spent her whole life loving this. Loving the feel of the car beneath her, the rush of adrenaline, the strategy, the victories, the music of the engine.

But now?

Now it all felt like weight.

She pressed her fingers against the glass, staring at her own reflection, searching for something—anything—that still felt like her.

Nothing.

She let out a shaky breath, stepping back.

For the first time in her life, she wasn’t sure if she even belonged in this world anymore.

---

Her phone sat on the nightstand, face down, untouched for hours.

She knew she could call them.

Dany or Ale.

Maybe they wouldn’t answer, but maybe they would. Maybe she could say something—anything—to fix this.

But what would she even say?

Sorry for leaving? Sorry for making things worse? Sorry for not being strong enough to hold them together?

She swallowed hard.

No.

They didn’t need another empty apology.

They needed things to be different.

But she didn’t know how to make that happen.

So instead, she let the phone stay where it was. Silent. Motionless.

Just like she was.

---

Pau sat back on the bed, staring at the ceiling again.

She could hear the distant sound of cars on the highway outside, headlights flashing against the walls as they passed.

She should be sleeping. Resting. Getting ready for the next race.

But instead, she stayed awake, drowning in thoughts she couldn’t escape.

Tomorrow, she would put on the face. She would walk into the garage like she was fine, like nothing was wrong, like she wasn’t falling apart.

Because that was what she did.

That was what she had always done.

But for the first time in her life, Pau didn’t know if she could keep pretending.

And that terrified her more than anything else.

Chapter Text

Days Until the Next Race: 5

---

The internet was on fire.

Paulina Villarreal wasn’t the type to obsess over social media, but even she couldn’t ignore the storm brewing online. NASCAR Twitter had become a warzone, with fans, analysts, and former drivers all weighing in on the Villarreal sisters’ escalating feud.

One side called Ale reckless, dangerous, a ticking time bomb. The other side labeled Dany a dirty blocker, someone who couldn't handle real competition.

And then there was Pau.

The forgotten one. Until now.

---

The hashtags said it all.

#VillarrealWar. #AleVsDany. #DanyDidNothingWrong. #AleIsAFutureChampion. #PauDeservesBetter.

Every angle, every incident, every late block, every shove in pit road—fans analyzed it like a crime scene. The Talladega wreck, the Bristol Night Battle, even their Daytona 500 clash—it was all playing on repeat, fueling the fire.

Pau scrolled through her feed reluctantly, scanning the takes from fans and journalists alike.

@RacingReport:
“Dany and Ale are tearing each other apart, and Pau is stuck in the crossfire. At what point does NASCAR step in?”

@StockCarInsider:
“Alejandra Villarreal is on thin ice with sponsors. Sources tell us Trackhouse has been pressured to ‘rein her in’ after her latest incident. #VillarrealWar”

@NASCARfan88:
“Dany gets away with everything, but when Ale fights back, suddenly she’s ‘out of control’? Y’all are hypocrites.”

@PaulinaV_77:
“Y’all, Pau is the only professional one in this family. She deserves way more respect than she gets. #PauDeservesBetter”

@autxmatic_cc
“Nah Ale ain’t helping the annoying younger sister stereotypes…NASCAR will let her get away with anything”

Pau sighed and shut off her phone. This wasn’t what she wanted.

She had never cared about the headlines, about Twitter battles, about being seen as the "mature" one. She just wanted to race.

But now, the world had chosen sides.

---

While Pau tried to stay out of it, Ale couldn’t escape the consequences.

Trackhouse Racing’s team principal, Justin Marks, had pulled her into a private meeting earlier that morning. The message had been clear: “This needs to stop.”

Ale sat across from him, arms crossed, blood still crusted around her busted nose from Bristol. She had heard these kinds of lectures before. Too aggressive. Too reckless. Too much of a liability.

But this time, it was worse.

“Our sponsors are getting nervous,” Marks had told her. “Fender, Monster—they love your edge, but they don’t love headlines about fights and wrecks. They want a driver who can bring them exposure, not controversy.”

Ale clenched her jaw. “I bring them exposure. That’s why they signed me.”

“Not like this,” Marks said. “They’re giving us a choice—either you clean this up, or they start looking elsewhere.”

Ale didn’t answer. She just stared at the floor, biting the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood.

This was who she was. This was how she raced.

Now they wanted her to change?

She wasn’t sure if she could.

---

While Ale faced backlash, Pau was suddenly in high demand.

She had barely been back in her hauler after a practice session when her agent, Lucas, called with news.

“You’re not gonna believe this,” Lucas said, practically buzzing through the phone. “Red Bull wants to extend their sponsorship deal with you—long-term.”

Pau blinked. “Wait… seriously?”

She already had Red Bull as a partial sponsor, but a full extension? That meant big money. Big marketing campaigns. More security.

“They love your image,” Lucas continued. “You’re the professional one, the consistent one. You’re not out there throwing punches or wrecking people. They see you as the future.”

Pau hesitated. The future.

She should be happy about this. This was what she had worked for—recognition, success, her own identity.

But it didn’t feel right.

Not when it came at the cost of her sisters destroying each other.

“Tell them I’ll think about it,” Pau said.

Lucas paused. “Pau, this is a no-brainer—”

“I said I’ll think about it.”

She hung up before he could argue.

Then she leaned against the wall, heart pounding, stomach twisting.

Winning in racing had never felt like losing before.

Chapter Text

Location: North Wilkesboro Speedway
Days Until the All-Star Race: 1

---

The tension in the NASCAR paddock was suffocating.

By now, everyone knew what the All-Star Race really was.

On paper, it was an exhibition event—a no-points, high-stakes, winner-takes-all showdown. No championship implications. Just bragging rights and a fat paycheck.

---

NASCAR’s higher-ups weren’t stupid. They had seen the growing feud between Ale and Dany, had witnessed their clashes on-track and their near-brawls off it. They had heard the boos and cheers as fans took sides, turning this into one of the most talked-about rivalries in years.

And now, with the All-Star Race just one day away, NASCAR had to step in before it got worse.

The three sisters sat inside a private meeting room at the track, facing a table of officials.

Steve O’Donnell, one of the sport’s top executives, folded his hands and stared at them. His voice was firm, serious.

“Let me be crystal clear—this is your final warning. If we see intentional contact, if you deliberately take each other out, there will be penalties. Heavy ones.”

Dany sat back, arms crossed. She had heard plenty of warnings before. She had also ignored plenty of them.

Ale’s expression was unreadable, but the way her fingers tapped against her knee screamed impatience.

Pau, meanwhile, just looked tired.

“Understood?” O’Donnell pressed.

Silence.

Then Ale spoke. “Understood.”

But she didn’t mean it.

---

Back in her hauler, Dany leaned against the counter, scrolling through her phone as clips of her battles with Ale played on repeat.

ESPN analysts debated who was at fault for their latest wreck. Fans called it the greatest rivalry in years. NASCAR veterans were already drawing comparisons to classic rivalries like Earnhardt vs. Gordon, Busch vs. Stewart.

Dany should’ve been flattered.

But all she felt was rage.

She wasn’t going to just let Ale push her around. Not on the track, not anywhere.

She had worked too damn hard to be seen as some kind of villain in all of this.

She tossed her phone onto the couch and exhaled.

If Ale wanted to keep pushing, keep taking these risks…

Fine.

Dany would be ready.

---

Pau sat in the Joe Gibbs hauler, running a hand down her face.

This wasn’t how things were supposed to be.

She had taken this deal to escape the chaos of being tied to her sisters. To finally be recognized for her own talent, her own strengths.

And yet, here she was—right back in the middle of it.

Except now, she wasn’t just a driver.

Now, she was the only thing standing between them and disaster.

Pau knew how this was going to go. The All-Star Race was a short track, no points, high aggression. The perfect place for Dany and Ale to tear each other apart.

And when it happened?

She didn’t think either of them would walk away unscathed.

---

Ale stood in the Trackhouse garage long after the sun had set, hands in her pockets, staring at her Ford Mustang.

The Monster Energy logo gleamed under the fluorescent lights. The sleek black paint looked flawless, untouched.

That would change tomorrow.

She had spent her entire career fighting to prove herself. Fighting for respect, fighting against people who told her she was too wild, too reckless.

Now, they wanted her to tone it down?

No.

Ale clenched her jaw.

She wasn’t backing down. Not for NASCAR. Not for her sponsors. Not for Dany.

Tomorrow, when the green flag dropped, she would race her way.

And if that meant breaking every rule in the book?

So be it.

Chapter Text

Location: North Wilkesboro Speedway
Race Countdown: 0

---

The air at North Wilkesboro crackled with anticipation.

A sold-out crowd packed the grandstands, the energy electric. No points, no championship stakes—just pure, unfiltered aggression.

The All-Star Race was always unpredictable. But this year? It felt downright explosive.

Ale, Pau, and Dany all lined up inside the top 10, each with something to prove.

For Dany, it was about dominance.

For Pau, it was about control.

For Ale, it was about revenge.

And none of them were willing to back down.

---

Pau exhaled sharply, gripping the wheel of her #77 Toyota. She could feel the tension radiating off her sisters, even through their cars.

This is going to end badly.

She knew it in her gut.

The short track’s tight corners and aggressive restarts already made it a recipe for disaster, but with Dany and Ale refusing to give an inch, it wasn’t a question of if a wreck would happen.

It was a question of when.

---

The race had been brutal.

Bumpers had been traded, elbows thrown, tempers flared.

But with 10 laps to go, Ale saw her opening.

Dany led. Pau was second. Ale was third.

A normal driver would wait. Plan a move. Stay patient.

Ale wasn’t a normal driver.

She went for it.

Coming out of Turn 2, she sent it three-wide, diving to the bottom, forcing her way under both Dany and Pau.

It was a Bass Drop move at the worst possible time.

Dany, seeing Ale trying to muscle her way through, threw a desperate block.

Pau, trapped in the middle, had nowhere to go.

And then—

Metal crunched. Tires screeched. Carbon fiber shattered.

The three Villarreal sisters slammed into each other at full speed.

Dany’s car hooked sideways into Ale’s, sending her hard into the outside wall. Pau’s car got clipped, spinning backward into oncoming traffic.

Behind them, cars tried to scatter—but it was too late.

A chain reaction ignited. Smoke. Flames. Metal flying.

By the time the wreck stopped, half the field was taken out.

---

The crowd went silent. Then erupted.

Smoke billowed from Ale’s crumpled #46 Ford, its front end completely destroyed. Dany’s Chevrolet sat sideways in the infield, its back end crunched. Pau’s Toyota was dead in the middle of the track, surrounded by the wreckage.

Safety crews rushed in.

Ale kicked open her door first, staggering out, blood dripping from her nose. Her back throbbed from the impact, but she didn’t care.

Because Dany was already out of her car—storming toward her.

Pau yanked off her helmet and threw it at the ground in frustration. She was shaking with rage.

Ale pointed at Dany. “You blocked me! You knew I had the run—”

“You tried to force your way through, dumbass! You wrecked all of us!” Dany shoved her. Hard.

Ale shoved back.

Pau snapped.

“Enough! Both of you!”

Her voice cut through the chaos.

The cameras caught everything—the fight, the wreckage, the disaster.

NASCAR officials stormed in, breaking them apart before fists could fly.

But the damage was already done.

---

Hours later, the verdict came down.

Ale was penalized.

- NASCAR ruled her move was overly aggressive and avoidable.
- She was docked points, despite this being a non-points race.
- A huge fine was slapped on Trackhouse Racing.

Ale’s name dominated the headlines—for all the wrong reasons.

Dany blamed everyone but herself. She insisted Ale wrecked them both.

Pau was done. Completely. She had never been more furious.

This wasn’t racing anymore.

This was self-destruction.

And Pau wasn’t sure if they could ever fix it.

Chapter Text

Location: Infield Care Center, North Wilkesboro Speedway
Time: 30 Minutes After the Crash

---

Dany sat on the edge of the examination table, arms crossed, jaw tight.

She could feel the stares from the medical staff, but she refused to meet their eyes.

"I'm fine," she snapped.

The doctor in front of her—a middle-aged man with graying hair—sighed. "Daniela, you were just in a massive wreck. You inhaled a lot of smoke. We need to—"

"I said, I'm fine."

But that was a lie.

Her chest felt like it was full of razor blades. Every breath came with a wheeze, like she was trying to breathe through a straw.

Her stomach churned, a wave of nausea rolling through her. The overhead lights burned into her stinging eyes. And worst of all, her head spun so violently she could barely focus.

The doctor exchanged glances with a nurse.

"You're experiencing smoke inhalation symptoms," he said firmly. "We need to get oxygen in you before—"

"I'm not some rookie, doc." Dany shook her head, regretting it immediately. It felt like her brain was sloshing around inside her skull. "I don’t need—"

Her nose started running. She sniffed, wiping it against her sleeve, then winced when she realized it was blood.

Her chest tightened.

Maybe she wasn't as fine as she thought.

The doctor took a cautious step forward. "Dany—"

The room tilted.

A sharp ringing filled her ears.

Her vision blurred at the edges.

No. No, no, no—she was not about to pass out in front of everyone.

She gritted her teeth, trying to fight through it, but then—

Everything went black.

---

When Dany came to, she was on her back, an oxygen mask strapped to her face.

The first thing she noticed was the burning in her lungs, like she had just sprinted five miles.

The second thing she noticed was Pau.

Her sister was standing at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, staring at her with a mix of exhaustion and disappointment.

Dany groaned, trying to sit up. The doctor pushed her back down.

“Stay put. You passed out from lack of oxygen.”

Dany wanted to argue, to tell them to leave her the hell alone.

But her body felt like lead. And her throat felt like it had been scraped raw.

Pau finally spoke. “You were saying something about being fine?”

Dany glared at her. “Screw off.”

Pau exhaled sharply, rubbing her temples. “Dany, you could’ve died out there.”

Dany scoffed, voice hoarse. “Yeah? Well, that makes two of us. You saw what Ale did.”

Pau’s expression darkened. “We all made mistakes today.”

Dany tried to sit up again. This time, the doctor allowed it but kept a careful eye on her.

“You’re lucky you passed out in here,” the doctor said. “If you’d ignored this and left, you could’ve collapsed somewhere alone.”

Pau exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "Dumbass."

Dany wanted to argue, but she didn’t have the strength.

The realization hit her like a gut punch.

For the first time in a long time—

She wasn’t in control.

Chapter Text

Location: North Wilkesboro Medical Center
Time: 2:17 AM

The hospital room was cold.

Dany lay in the stiff hospital bed, staring at the ceiling tiles, counting the cracks where paint had started to peel. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound keeping her company, along with the occasional shuffle of nurses in the hallway.

She hated hospitals.

The smell of antiseptic, the scratchy blankets, the too-bright fluorescent lights—it all reminded her of wrecks she’d rather forget. The countless times she had walked away with bruises, fractures, concussions.

And yet, this was the worst one.

Not because of her injuries.

Because no one came.

Not Ale.
Not Pau.

They were both still at the track, probably dealing with post-race media, team meetings, and damage reports. They hadn’t even texted to check on her.

She shifted under the covers, feeling the ache in her chest. Her lungs still burned with every breath, but at least the oxygen mask was off now.

She glanced at the nightstand. Sitting there, small and out of place, was a brown stuffed bear with a tiny red bow around its neck.

One of the nurses had brought it earlier.

“We keep these for the little kids, but I figured you could use one too.”

Dany had almost laughed at the thought—her, a grown woman, clutching a teddy bear. But now, as she lay there alone, staring at the door that no one had walked through in hours, she reached for it.

The fabric was soft, the seams slightly worn from too many washes. She curled it against her chest, her fingers gripping it a little too tight.

It was ridiculous.

She was Dany Villarreal. The same woman who could throw her car into a gap no one else dared to take. The one who had walked away from countless wrecks with a smirk and a middle finger for the cameras.

She didn’t need anyone.

Right?

Then why did it hurt so damn much?

A lump formed in her throat, but she swallowed it down.

She refused to cry.

But the silence in the room felt suffocating, pressing down on her chest in a way that had nothing to do with the smoke inhalation.

For years, it had been them against the world. Her, Pau, and Ale. Racing together, fighting together, winning together.

Now?

They weren’t even here.

Dany turned onto her side, curling up slightly, still clutching the little bear.

For the first time in her life, she felt small.

For the first time in her life, she felt truly alone.

Chapter Text

Location: Joe Gibbs Racing Headquarters – Simulator Room
Time: 11:43 PM

The glow from the triple-monitor setup cast long shadows across the dimly lit room. The hum of cooling fans and the occasional click of buttons filled the silence.

Pau gripped the wheel of the simulator, jaw tight, eyes locked onto the screen.

Focus.

This was routine. Muscle memory. She had done this a thousand times before—long before she ever got behind the wheel of a real stock car.

The team had loaded a Talladega simulation at her request.

She didn’t know why she had picked it.

Maybe because she needed to prove to herself that she could handle it. Maybe because she was tired of the nightmares.

Her hands squeezed the wheel tighter.

The moment the green flag dropped, she fell into the rhythm of the draft. 200 mph, bumper to bumper. The car ahead, a virtual rendering of Dany’s old Chevy, sucked her into the slipstream. The roar of the digital engine filled her headphones.

It felt real. Too real.

Lap after lap, she kept perfect pace. She should have felt safe. It was just a simulation—just pixels and code.

Then the A.I. drivers got aggressive.

Someone nudged her left rear quarter panel.

Pau flinched.

No. No, it’s not real.

She corrected, gripping the wheel tighter, but another car dove in low—too close, too fast.

Just like before.

And then it happened.

The car turned sideways.

A rush of static filled her ears as the digital world slowed.

Her hands moved on instinct, trying to countersteer, but it was too late. The wall was coming.

The force of the virtual impact didn’t actually touch her, but her body reacted anyway.

She felt it.

The crushing weight of metal. The scream of tires. The deafening slam of impact.

The car flipped.

Her breath hitched.

No. No. No.

The screen spun wildly—once, twice, then darkness. The simulator reset.

Pau ripped off her headphones, chest heaving.

Not real.

Her hand trembled as she reached for the switch, shutting everything down. The room fell into an eerie silence.

It was just a simulation.

So why did she feel like she was still inside that car, trapped in the wreckage?

Her pulse thundered in her ears. She could still hear it—the screams of her crew over the radio, the crunch of metal, the sickening moment her car had finally stopped rolling.

Her breathing came too fast, too shallow.

She tried to push herself out of the simulator seat, but her legs wouldn’t move.

She was back there.

The smoke. The fire. The pain.

Her fingers curled into fists. Stop it. Stop it.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force the memory away.

She wasn’t there. She was at the shop. She was fine.

But her body didn’t believe that.

The nausea hit first, sudden and violent. She barely had time to turn before she threw up into a trash bin beside her.

Her hands shook uncontrollably. Her whole body felt cold, drenched in sweat.

She could hear voices outside the sim room—crew members still working late, chatting about anything but Talladega. About anything but what happened to her.

She needed air.

Pau pushed herself up, forcing her legs to work. She stumbled to the door, gripping the frame as she stepped into the hallway.

A few mechanics glanced at her, eyebrows raised.

“Hey, you good?”

Pau nodded stiffly. “Fine.”

Lying was easier.

She moved past them, heading for the back exit. The night air hit her like a wave, cool against her damp skin.

She pressed her hands against her knees, breathing deep, trying to regain control.

This wasn’t the first time.

She’d wake up in the middle of the night, gasping for air, her sheets tangled from tossing and turning. She’d hear the sound of the crash in her dreams, feel the impact in her ribs.

But no one knew.

Because she didn’t tell anyone.

Because admitting it meant it was real.

Pau swallowed hard, staring up at the empty sky.

This wasn’t normal.

But if she told someone—if she asked for help—what would they say?

She could already hear the comments.
“You’re just shaken up. You’ll get over it.”
“It’s part of racing. Move on.”
“You’re fine, Pau. Stop overthinking it.”

She wasn’t fine.

But she had to be.

Because weakness had no place on the track.

She clenched her jaw and wiped the sweat from her forehead.

Tomorrow, she’d get back in the real car.

Tomorrow, she’d push it all down again.

Because that’s what she always did.

Chapter Text

Location: Hendrick Motorsports Headquarters – Team Briefing Room
Time: 10:30 AM

Dany stepped into the briefing room, the fluorescent lights making her already throbbing head feel worse. She was back at the shop less than twelve hours after being discharged from the hospital.

The burns in her lungs still made every breath sting, but she didn’t care.

What she cared about was getting back in the car.

The moment she sat down at the long table, she could feel the tension. Her crew chief, Ryan Caldwell, sat at the front of the room, arms crossed, expression unreadable. The rest of the team—the engineers, the spotter, and a few other mechanics—were all stiff, silent.

On the screen, paused in HD clarity, was the All-Star Race wreck.

Her stomach twisted, but she masked it with an annoyed sigh.

Ryan hit play.

The footage showed Ale making a three-wide move—her reckless, stupid move. Dany reacted, blocking hard. Pau got pinched. Then everything went to hell.

Her car slammed into the wall, flames erupting as the wreck unfolded.

Dany looked away. She had already lived it. She didn’t need to see it again.

Ryan pressed pause, turning to her. “Walk me through it.”

She shrugged. “Ale was being an idiot. I blocked. Pau didn’t back off. Not my fault.”

The room was quiet.

Ryan narrowed his eyes. “That’s it?”

“What else do you want me to say?” She leaned back, arms crossed. “Ale shouldn’t have forced that move. She wrecked us.”

The team exchanged glances.

Ryan exhaled sharply. “Dany, you threw a late block. You know how dangerous that is at these speeds.”

Her blood boiled. “What was I supposed to do? Just let her take the spot?”

“You were already three-wide.” Ryan’s tone was measured, but firm. “That wasn’t going to work. The moment you turned down, you forced Pau into the middle. There was no room.”

Dany shook her head. “No, no, no—Ale put us in that position. If she hadn’t gone for some desperate Hail Mary pass, none of this would’ve happened.”

Her engineer, Mark, hesitated before speaking. “Dany, the data shows that you—”

“I don’t give a damn about the data,” she snapped.

Silence.

Ryan rubbed his temples. “Dany, listen—”

“No, you listen.” She shot up from her seat, pushing it back with enough force to make it scrape against the floor. “I didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the only one who actually races with some damn backbone.”

The tension in the room snapped.

Mark muttered something under his breath.

Dany whipped around. “What the hell was that?”

He sighed, shaking his head. “You never take responsibility. Ever.”

Her jaw tightened.

Ryan held up a hand. “That’s enough.”

Dany scoffed. “Yeah. Enough of this bullshit.”

She grabbed her bag and stormed toward the door.

Ryan called after her. “Dany, this is part of the job! You can’t just—”

The door slammed shut behind her.

—

Location: Ironworks Gym – Charlotte, NC
Time: 11:30 AM

The moment she stepped inside the gym, the familiar scent of sweat and rubber mats hit her.

Good.

She needed this.

She threw her bag down and walked straight to the weights, not bothering to warm up. She grabbed a kettlebell—heavier than she should have started with—but she didn’t care.

She swung it violently, her shoulders burning, but the anger didn’t leave.

Her whole body was sore, still healing from the crash, but she pushed harder.

Because if she stopped moving, she’d have to think.

And she didn’t want to think.

About how she had sat in that hospital bed, clutching a damn teddy bear, waiting for her sisters to walk through the door.

About how they never came.

About how everyone wanted to blame her.

She clenched her teeth and dropped the kettlebell, grabbing a medicine ball instead. She launched it against the wall, catching it on the bounce.

Again.
Again.
Again.

Her arms screamed, but she kept going.

She didn’t need Pau. She didn’t need Ale.

She didn’t need anyone.

She just needed to win.

To prove that she wasn’t the problem.

Because if she wasn’t winning, then what the hell was she?

Chapter Text

Location: Martinsville Speedway – Late Model Series Race
Time: 7:45 PM

The floodlights shined down on the half-mile short track, illuminating the cracked asphalt and the thunderous roar of engines. Pau stood in the grandstands, headset pressed tight over her ears, eyes locked on the #19 Toyota Camry weaving through traffic below.

Her teammate, Ethan Caldwell, was a promising young talent in Joe Gibbs Racing’s development program. At just 19 years old, he had the raw skill and aggression that made people think he’d be a Cup Series star in a few years.

If Pau had a little brother, it would be him.

She had agreed to spot for him tonight—a small race, just a Late Model event, nothing serious. But he had begged her, and she had reluctantly said yes.

She wasn’t a professional spotter, but she could call moves and help guide him through the chaos of Martinsville.

“You’re clear high, keep it steady,” she said into the radio.

“Copy,” Ethan responded, voice calm but full of adrenaline.

Pau exhaled. The kid was fast tonight. He had started 5th and was already battling for the lead.

For the first time in weeks, Pau actually felt at peace.

The drama between Dany and Ale had consumed everything—the fights, the crashes, the media frenzy. It was all too much.

But here?

Here, it was just her, the track, and the voice in her headset.

Ethan was in second place now, riding the bumper of the leader, waiting for his moment.

“Patience,” Pau reminded him. “Long race, plenty of time.”

Lap 142 of 200.

She took a deep breath. Maybe this was what she needed. A night away from the insanity. A night to just focus on the racing.

Then it happened.

---

Lap 153.

The #9 car—Ethan’s rival all night—made a sudden, aggressive block. Ethan had already committed to the high line, and now he was pinned against the wall.

“Inside! Inside!” Pau called, gripping the rail in front of her.

Ethan hesitated—just for a second. The hesitation was fatal.

The #9 clipped Ethan’s front fender, sending him spinning hard into the outside wall.

And then—

Chaos.

The #77 car, with nowhere to go, slammed into Ethan’s driver-side door.

The impact was horrific.

Ethan’s car crumpled like aluminum foil, the sound of metal-on-metal sickening.

Pau ripped the headset off. “No, no, no—”

On the track, the field scattered, cars spinning, smoke filling the air.

Pau’s legs went numb.

No radio response from Ethan.

Crew members were already sprinting down pit road, track officials waving red flags, medical trucks flying onto the scene.

The whole grandstand was silent.

And Pau?

She was frozen.

Because she had missed it.

She should’ve seen that move coming. She should’ve warned him faster. She should have—

Pau’s knees buckled, and she grabbed the railing for support.

Ethan still hadn’t responded.

Her vision blurred, hands shaking as she fumbled for her phone.

The live feed on the track’s jumbotron replayed the crash in slow motion—Ethan’s car getting destroyed, the force of the impact, the way it just stopped moving.

Like he wasn’t even in control anymore.

Like he was just gone.

She sucked in a breath so fast it hurt.

“Please be okay.”

Her phone rang once before she heard her team owner’s voice. Coach Joe Gibbs himself.

“Pau, get to the infield care center. Now.”

---

10:12 PM

Pau sat in the waiting room, wringing her hands together.

She had called Ethan’s parents.

They were on their way.

Her leg bounced uncontrollably, nerves shot. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed softly, the antiseptic smell of the hospital making her stomach turn.

She hadn’t spoken to anyone since she got there. She just sat. Waiting.

Waiting for the doctors to come out.

Waiting to hear Ethan’s voice on the radio.

Waiting for someone to say, “He’s gonna be okay.”

But that moment never came.

Instead, at 10:17 PM, a doctor emerged, face grim.

And Pau’s heart stopped.

He walked over, removing his gloves. “Are you Paulina Villarreal?”

She barely nodded.

The doctor hesitated, eyes flickering with something that Pau couldn’t bear to see.

Pity.

No. No, please—

“I’m sorry,” the doctor said softly. “Ethan didn’t make it.”

She barely heard the words.

“Massive internal injuries.”
“Resuscitation attempts unsuccessful.”
“Time of death: 10:12 PM.”

Pau felt her chest cave in.

Everything faded.

Her ears started ringing.

Her vision went blurry.

She shook her head, gripping the edge of the chair. “No. No, that’s—no. He’s—he’s fine.”

The doctor’s expression didn’t change.

And that was how she knew it was real.

She barely noticed Ethan’s parents walking in, the way his mother collapsed into sobs as soon as she saw the doctor’s face.

Pau’s hands were ice cold, her breath coming out in shallow gasps.

She thought about his voice over the radio.

His last words before the wreck:

“Copy.”

Just like that, he was gone.

Because of her.

Because she didn’t react fast enough.

She had spotted for him. She was supposed to protect him.

And she failed.

---

Pau stumbled into her hotel room, not even bothering to turn on the lights.

She made it two steps before her knees gave out.

She crumpled to the floor, pressing her forehead against the carpet, fists clenched so tight her nails dug into her skin.

She wanted to scream.

She wanted to break something.

She wanted to undo everything.

Instead, she just lay there.

Staring at the ceiling.

She could still see the wreck.

She could still hear the silence on the radio.

She could’ve stopped it.

She should’ve been better.

She should’ve done something.

Her chest ached, like her ribs were closing in on her lungs, suffocating her.

Her mind replayed the moment over and over, torturing her.

Until, finally, one thought surfaced.

One, terrifying thought.

I can’t do this anymore.

She closed her eyes, feeling the weight of it settle in her bones.

For the first time since joining NASCAR, since dedicating her life to this sport—

Paulina Villarreal wanted to quit.

Chapter Text

Location: Charlotte, North Carolina
Three Days After the Crash

Pau had spent the last seventy-two hours in a fog.

She had barely spoken. Barely eaten. Barely slept.

Her world had slowed to an unbearable crawl.

The funeral was set for tomorrow. Joe Gibbs Racing had arranged everything, making sure Ethan’s family had the full support of the NASCAR community. Drivers had sent messages, teams had reached out, and tributes had flooded social media.

But none of it mattered.

None of it brought him back.

Pau sat on the couch of her apartment, staring blankly at the floor. She hadn’t moved in hours.

The TV was on, but she wasn’t watching.

Her phone was face-down on the table, buzzing every few minutes with notifications. Condolences. News updates. More reminders that the world was still moving, while she felt completely stuck.

Somewhere in that pile of unread messages was a text from Ale.

She had finally brought herself to read it earlier.

“Shit’s rough. Hope you’re okay.”

That was it.

No call. No real comfort. Just a half-assed text that could’ve been sent to anyone.

Pau had gripped her phone so tightly she thought she might break it.

She hadn’t responded. She wouldn’t.

And then there was Dany.

She had come by the JGR hauler the day after the crash, running into Pau on her way out.

Dany had patted her on the back.

Patted her on the back.

Like it was some minor inconvenience. Like Ethan’s death wasn’t tearing Pau apart from the inside out.

Dany had muttered a quiet, “Hang in there,” before walking off, already thinking about the next race.

Pau had just stood there, feeling more alone than ever.

---

Location: Charlotte Memorial Chapel
4:00 PM

The air was thick with grief.

Pau sat in the second row, hands clasped together, shoulders hunched.

She barely listened to the speeches.

She barely looked at the casket.

It was too much.

Ethan’s mother had hugged her earlier, whispered, “It wasn’t your fault.”

But that didn’t help.

Because it was her fault.

She should have seen the move coming. She should have called it sooner.

When the service ended, Pau stayed seated. Everyone else left.

She didn’t cry.

She just sat there, staring at the flowers on the casket, feeling absolutely nothing.

---

One Week Later

Pau didn’t love NASCAR anymore.

She used to wake up every morning thinking about racing.

Now, she woke up thinking about Ethan.

Thinking about his last words on the radio. Thinking about the wreck.

The simulator sat untouched in her apartment.

Her racing suit hung in the closet, where she wanted to leave it forever.

The only time she left her place was for mandatory team meetings.

And even then, she barely spoke.

Joe Gibbs had checked on her. Her crew had reached out.

But she just nodded, forced a fake smile, and kept going.

Until one day, her manager showed up unannounced.

Lisa Reynolds.

A woman who had fought tooth and nail to get Pau where she was.

She walked into Pau’s apartment, took one look at her—the dark circles, the lifeless stare, the unwashed hair—and sighed.

“You’re thinking about quitting.”

Pau said nothing.

Lisa sat across from her, folding her hands on the table. “I’m not going to give you some speech about how Ethan would want you to keep racing. You already know that.”

Pau flinched.

Lisa leaned forward. “You love this sport. I know you do. Don’t let this be the thing that takes it from you.”

Pau didn’t love it anymore.

Lisa must have seen the hesitation in her eyes.

So she softened her voice.

“I know you blame yourself. But leaving NASCAR won’t bring him back. It won’t make the pain go away.”

Pau clenched her jaw. “I don’t care.”

Lisa sat back. “Then tell me what you do care about.”

Pau couldn’t answer.

Because she didn’t know.

For the first time in her entire life, she didn’t know what she cared about anymore.

Lisa exhaled. “I’m not going to force you to stay. But I need you to think about this. Think about everything you’ve worked for. Think about what you’d be giving up.”

Pau looked away.

Lisa stood up. “I’ll give you time.”

And then she left.

Pau stared at the door for a long time after it closed.

Her hands curled into fists.

She wanted to quit.

But she didn’t know if she could.

Chapter Text

Location: Charlotte Motor Speedway Roval
Race Day – 3 Hours Until Green Flag

Pau sat in the driver’s seat of her #77 Toyota Camry, staring at the digital dashboard, fingers gripping the wheel.

She wasn’t nervous.

She wasn’t scared.

For the first time in weeks, she felt clear.

She had made her decision.

She was here to race.

Not for Ale. Not for Dany. Not for Joe Gibbs Racing.

For herself.

She could feel the energy in the garage, the weight of the last few weeks hanging heavy. Crew members stole glances at her. Reporters whispered. Fans in the stands held signs with Ethan’s name.

She could almost hear the unspoken words in their heads.

Can she still do this? Can she come back from this?

They were all waiting to see her fail.

They wouldn’t get that satisfaction.

Pau exhaled and pressed her helmet against the headrest.

Today, she was going to win.

---

The field roared to life as the green flag waved. The Roval was a unique beast—a hybrid of a road course and an oval, with tight corners, elevation changes, and no room for error.

Pau thrived in conditions like these.

While others overdrove the turns, locking up their brakes and running wide, Pau was precise. She knew exactly when to lift, exactly how much curb to take, and exactly how to line up the perfect exit.

Her strategy? Stay patient. Let the chaos unfold. Pick them off one by one.

By Lap 15, she was 5th.

By Lap 30, she was 3rd.

By Lap 45, she was leading.

The grandstands erupted.

---

With ten laps to go, Pau’s radio crackled.

“We’re good on fuel. Just hit your marks.”

Easier said than done.

Behind her, Chase Elliott and Dany were charging hard.

Dany was trying too hard.

She was overdriving the car, diving too deep into corners, locking up her tires.

Pau knew that frustration well. She had felt it for weeks.

But not today.

She took the chicane flawlessly, while Dany clipped the curb, sending sparks flying.

That was it.

That was the moment Pau knew.

She was going to win.

---

Pau took the final corner cleanly, powered down the front stretch, and crossed the finish line first.

She had done it.

She had won.

The emotion hit her all at once.

She screamed into the radio, slamming her fist against the wheel.

This win wasn’t for Ethan.

This wasn’t for redemption.

This was hers.

---

The cameras were all on her now.

Not on Dany. Not on Ale. Her.

As Pau climbed out of the car, the crowd roared, chanting her name.

For the first time in months, she smiled.

She had just reminded the world who the hell she was.

And they wouldn’t forget again.

---

Dany watched from pit road, arms crossed, heart pounding.

She should have been furious.

She should have been jealous.

But all she felt was... shame.

Pau had done what she hadn’t.

She had stopped caring about the feud. About the war. About the bullshit.

She had just raced.

And she had won.

Dany exhaled, running a hand through her hair.

For the first time, she wondered—

Had she been fighting the wrong battle this whole time?

Chapter Text

Location: Martinsville Speedway – 5 Days Until Race Day

Pau stared at her phone, her hands trembling.

The notification from NASCAR’s official Twitter account was staring right at her.

BREAKING: Investigation reopened into stolen No. 77 backup car. Sources indicate possible involvement from Trackhouse Racing personnel.

She felt like she had just been sucker-punched.

Her breath was shallow, her fingers cold as she scrolled through the comments.

“Ale’s team sabotaging Pau? Figures.”
“Knew something shady was up with Trackhouse.”
“If this is true, Ale’s done.”

Pau’s heart pounded.

Ale.

Her own sister.

Had she known?

Had she been a part of it?

Had she actually been that desperate to take her down?

---

Pau didn’t wait.

She stormed straight to Trackhouse’s hauler, shoving past crew members as they tried to stop her.

Ale was sitting inside, feet propped up, scrolling through her phone like nothing was wrong.

Pau didn’t knock. She didn’t ask.

She just threw the door open.

“Ale.”

Her sister barely looked up. “Hey, Pau.”

Pau’s hands curled into fists. “Don’t you ‘Hey, Pau’ me. Did you know?”

Ale sighed, setting her phone down. “Know what?”

“The backup car,” Pau hissed. “The one that was stolen. NASCAR just reopened the investigation, and guess what? Your team is right in the damn middle of it.”

Ale’s eyes flickered, but she leaned back, expression unreadable.

“I didn’t have anything to do with it,” she said flatly.

Pau didn’t buy it.

“That’s it?” she snapped. “You’re not even gonna deny it? Not even gonna defend yourself?”

Ale crossed her arms. “I am denying it. I don’t know what the hell happened, but I didn’t order anyone to steal your car.”

Pau’s blood was boiling.

“How am I supposed to believe that?”

Ale’s voice dropped, a dangerous edge creeping in. “Because, Pau, I might be reckless, I might be an asshole, but I don’t cheat.”

Pau shook her head, laughing bitterly. “So I’m supposed to just blindly trust you? After everything?”

Ale’s jaw clenched. “I don’t care what you believe.”

And that was it.

That was all she had to say.

Pau stared at her, waiting—begging—for something more. An apology. A real answer.

Something.

But Ale just grabbed her phone again, like the whole thing was an inconvenience.

Pau’s throat burned.

She had nothing left to say.

Without another word, she turned on her heel and walked out.

---

By the time race weekend arrived, NASCAR’s investigation had taken center stage.

Officials had found security footage from weeks earlier—grainy but damning.

A Trackhouse crew member had been caught sneaking into Joe Gibbs Racing’s garage.

Caught opening the bay doors.

Caught tampering with the lock where Pau’s backup car had been stored.

It wasn’t direct proof that Ale knew.

But it was enough.

The garage was buzzing with rumors. Reporters hounded Trackhouse’s pit stall.

Even Ale’s own teammates were whispering.

Pau watched from a distance, arms crossed, jaw tight.

She didn’t know if Ale was innocent.

But at this point?

She didn’t care.

Because it didn’t matter.

The damage was already done.

Chapter Text

Location: Hendrick Motorsports Garage – 4 Days Until Race Day

For the first time in what felt like forever, Dany wasn’t fighting.

Not with Ale. Not with Pau. Not even with herself.

Today?

Today was about stupid fun.

“Alright, boys,” Josh, her tire changer, clapped his hands together, grinning like a maniac. “We’ve been working our asses off all season. I say it’s time for a little break.”

The entire Hendrick crew stood around the garage, beers and sports drinks in hand, looking way too excited for whatever chaos was about to unfold.

Dany, sitting on top of a stack of tires, smirked. “What kind of break are we talking about?”

Josh turned to Eddie, their jackman, and Kyle, their fuel guy.

“Blindfolded tire-changing competition.”

The garage erupted.

“Oh, hell yeah!” someone yelled.

“I’m about to smoke all of you,” Eddie bragged.

Kyle cracked his knuckles. “You wish.”

Dany laughed, crossing her arms. “This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Josh pointed at her. “Oh, don’t even try to pretend you’re too cool for this, boss.”

Dany pretended to think about it. “You’re right. Let’s go.”

---

Five minutes later, two pit guns, four tires, and five blindfolds were set up.

The rules were simple:
1. You have 30 seconds to remove a tire and replace it.
2. You can’t take your blindfold off.
3. If you drop a lug nut, you’re out.

Dany adjusted the ridiculous bandana tied around her eyes. “If I die, tell Pau and Ale I hated them equally.”

Josh snorted. “Ready? GO!”

The garage turned into absolute madness.

The distinct WHRRRRR of air guns screamed as everyone scrambled to get the lug nuts off.

“WHERE’S THE DAMN TIRE?!” Eddie yelled.

“I’M HOLDING IT, DUMBASS!” Kyle shot back.

Dany fumbled, nearly falling over as she tried to align the new tire.

Someone dropped a lug nut.

“DAMN IT!”

Laughter exploded.

Dany wasn’t sure if her tire was on right—hell, she wasn’t even sure if it was her car anymore.

Josh blew a whistle. “TIME!”

Dany ripped her blindfold off.

The garage lost it.

Kyle had somehow put a tire on backward.

Eddie’s wheel was still on the ground.

And Dany?

Dany’s tire was perfect.

She smirked. “What was that about smoking me?”

Josh doubled over laughing. “HOW?! How did you do that?!”

Dany just shrugged. “Natural talent.”

---

After the chaos of the tire challenge, someone—probably Kyle, the team's certified bad influence—suggested the next event:

Who could chug the most sports drinks?

“Absolutely not,” their crew chief, Rick, said immediately.

“Too late,” Josh said, already cracking open bottles.

Dany sat back, arms crossed, as four unfortunate souls lined up with four bottles each.

“This is disgusting,” she commented.

Kyle grinned. “This is HISTORY.”

Josh raised his hand. “3… 2… 1… GO!”

It was horrific.

The poor bastards guzzled down bottle after bottle, their faces twisting in regret.

By the third bottle, Eddie tapped out, coughing.

By the fourth, Kyle turned green.

And then, Josh—who had been leading—suddenly sprinted away.

“HE’S GONNA BLOW!” someone yelled.

He did.

Behind the hauler. Loudly.

The garage HOWLED.

Dany wiped a tear. “This is the greatest day of my life.”

---

By now, everyone was in a mood.

So, naturally, the next competition was “Who can do the best impression of the NASCAR race announcers?”

Josh—recovered from his tragic downfall—grabbed a wrench like a microphone.

“AND IT’S THE FINAL LAP HERE AT BRISTOL! ALE VILLARREAL IN THE LEAD, BUT—OH! LOOK AT THAT DIRTY BLOCK FROM DANY VILLARREAL!”

The garage erupted into laughter.

Dany rolled her eyes, flipping him off. “You’re hilarious.”

Kyle stepped up next. “Pau Villarreal, the quiet, strategic driver… but WAIT! SHE HAS EMOTIONS AFTER ALL!”

The laughter turned to shocked gasps.

Dany actually spit out her drink.

“OH, SHIT.”

Josh doubled over. “KYLE, YOU CAN’T SAY THAT!”

Kyle shrugged. “What? It’s true.”

Pau wasn’t here, but if she was?

She would’ve murdered him.

---

By the end of the night, everyone was exhausted.

They all sat on the pit wall, watching the last bits of sunset fade into darkness.

Dany stretched her arms, sighing. For the first time in weeks, she felt… okay.

Not angry. Not bitter. Not drowning in rivalry.

Just… okay.

Josh nudged her. “Admit it, boss. You needed this.”

She smirked. “Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

Maybe tomorrow, the chaos would come back.

Maybe the fighting would start again.

Maybe the rivalry wasn’t over.

But for tonight?

They were just a bunch of idiots, having fun.

Chapter Text

Location: Trackhouse Racing Garage – 3 Days Until Race Day

Ale was exhausted.

Her body ached from weeks of racing, fighting, and wrecking. Her mind was fried from dealing with the media, NASCAR officials, and Pau’s cold shoulder.

She needed a break.

That’s why she was still in the Trackhouse garage late at night, sitting against the side of her car, staring up at the fluorescent lights buzzing above.

It was quiet. Peaceful. For once, nobody needed anything from her.

Then she heard it.

A tiny, pitiful meow.

Ale frowned, sitting up. “…The hell?”

She looked around, expecting to see—well, nothing.

Then, from behind a stack of tires, something small and fluffy stumbled out.

Ale’s eyes widened.

It was a kitten.

A tiny, scrappy, orange little thing, probably no more than a few weeks old.

It meowed again, louder this time, big eyes locking onto her.

“Oh, no,” Ale muttered, already feeling her nose tingle.

She was allergic to cats.

Like, seriously allergic.

But the kitten didn’t care.

It stumbled closer, its tail twitching, staring at her like she was the most interesting thing in the world.

Ale hesitated. She should not touch it.

Then the kitten crawled onto her fire suit.

“…Well, shit.”

---

Ale stayed perfectly still as the tiny thing climbed up her stomach, its little claws barely gripping the thick fabric.

It was so small—weirdly bony, like it hadn’t eaten enough.

And it was purring.

Ale sighed. “You really picked the wrong person, dude.”

The kitten just rubbed its face against her glove.

She felt her eyes start to burn. Her nose itched.

But she didn’t move.

She just… let it happen.

Because for some reason, this little garage gremlin had decided she was safe.

And that felt weird.

No one thought she was safe.

Not Dany. Not Pau. Not the media, not even her damn team.

Everyone saw her as the reckless one. The one who made bad calls, who took things too far, who burned bridges and barely looked back.

But this dumb little kitten?

It just saw her as warm.

Ale swallowed hard, rubbing at her nose.

“Alright, man. If you’re staying, you need a name.”

---

She lifted the kitten off her suit, carefully placing it on her lap. It wobbled a little, tail twitching.

“What do I call you?” Ale muttered.

The kitten sneezed.

“…Bless you.”

It meowed again, blinking slowly.

Ale thought for a moment, then smirked.

“How about Turbo?”

The kitten tilted its head.

“Yeah, you like that?” Ale chuckled. “Tiny but fast. Just like me.”

Turbo purred louder, curling up against her stomach.

Ale let her head fall back against the car, ignoring how her throat was definitely closing up a little.

Maybe she’d regret this when she was sneezing her lungs out in the morning.

But for now?

She had a kitten.

And for the first time in a long time, Ale felt wanted.

Chapter Text

Location: Martinsville Speedway – 1 Day Until the Championship Showdown

The night was electric at Martinsville Speedway, the heart of short-track racing.

Tension hung thick in the air, as the final race before the championship showdown was about to unfold. The track was a battlefield—just 0.526 miles of asphalt—but it felt like it could be the end for one of them.

Ale, Dany, and Pau had all fought their way through the season, but now, with the final race upon them, only one of the sisters could join Pau in the championship showdown.

Dany, who had faced enough chaos and controversy this season to last her a lifetime, wasn’t about to let her sister take the last spot.

Pau, already locked into the championship race, was at peace—focused on making history.

But the two sisters who had barely exchanged a kind word in months, Ale and Dany, were locked in an unforgiving battle.

The race at Martinsville was shaping up to be nothing short of chaotic.

The crowd was on edge, the cars roaring around the oval track, but the tension between the three sisters was palpable. No one could look away.

Dany’s pit crew was working feverishly, making quick adjustments to keep her in contention. The #22 Camaro ZL1 had been handling well—until the last segment, when Dany found herself boxed in, fighting for the last spot in the championship fight. She knew it would take everything she had to hold off Ale’s aggressive driving style.

And Ale, for all her unpredictability and recklessness, had no intention of going down without a fight.

As the laps wound down, it was clear: this was going to get ugly.

---

With just one lap to go, the two sisters were locked in an intense duel for the spot in the championship showdown. Ale had always been the aggressor, but Dany? Dany was known for her ruthless willpower and drive to prove herself, even if it meant sacrificing everything—including her safety.

Ale made a move, her #46 Ford Mustang Dark Horse diving to the inside. Dany, trying to hold her ground, threw a block—but it wasn’t enough.

Ale was right on her rear bumper, a few inches separating the two cars. The cheering fans could hardly believe what they were witnessing—this wasn’t just a race. This was a blood feud between sisters.

As they barreled down the backstretch, Ale’s eyes narrowed—there was a gap, and she knew if she could just push Dany out of the way, she could seal the deal and advance.

The bump.

Ale made her move—hard, fast, and dirty. Her bumper connected with Dany’s rear quarter panel, sending Dany into a wild spin. She barely kept control of the car as it slid sideways across the track, and for a heart-stopping moment, the crowd fell silent, watching the chaos unfold.

The sound of metal scraping metal filled the air as Dany’s car slammed into the wall.

It was over.

---

The race came to a screeching halt. As the yellow flags waved, Ale’s car cruised to a victory lane position, but her heart wasn’t in it. She had done what was necessary, but at what cost?

Dany’s car was immobile, wrecked against the barriers, and as the safety crew rushed to her side, the air was thick with worry.

Inside the medical car, Dany was already coughing violently, her breath labored. Her body ached all over—she could feel every inch of her limbs pulsating in pain, but the worst part was her head.

Her vision was blurry, and her thoughts weren’t quite adding up. Her brain felt foggy, like everything was moving through thick molasses, each second dragging out into eternity.

Her lungs were hurting too—each breath came in short, jagged bursts. She struggled to breathe in, feeling the tightness in her chest, the sensation like a vice tightening around her ribcage.

But it was her head that scared her most. Dizziness swam through her mind, a thudding headache that wouldn't relent. She felt disoriented, struggling to remember what had just happened.

The world around her seemed distant and out of focus. She blinked, trying to clear her vision, but it didn’t help. Nausea crept into her stomach, and she felt like she might pass out at any moment.

Was this it? Was this how it all ended?

---

At the hospital, Dany’s condition worsened. She was conscious, but barely. The doctors hovered around her, murmuring in hushed tones as they assessed her injuries.

"Head trauma. Possible concussion," one of them muttered. The words were a dull thud in Dany's mind, too distant for her to understand fully. Her thoughts bounced around like a pinball machine—nothing was sticking.

Her thoughts were scattered, and at times, she had trouble following even the simplest conversation. She could feel the swelling in her head, the pressure building, making it harder to think straight. She knew something was wrong, but her brain couldn’t seem to put the pieces together.

Her chest ached from the wreck, but her brain… Her brain was confused, like a fog hanging over her mind. Every sound felt muffled, every word someone spoke seemed incomprehensible.

The pain, the nausea, the disorientation—it was all so much, and Dany couldn’t handle it. She tried to speak, to get a word out, but the words wouldn’t come.

Her memory gaps frightened her. She couldn’t remember parts of the race—what happened in the last few laps? What led to the crash? Why was her head hurting so much?

Every time she tried to focus, the world swam in front of her. Her body trembled, and her vision blurred. She was dizzy, and every breath was a struggle.

---

Meanwhile, Pau sat quietly in her trailer, watching the aftermath unfold on a nearby television screen.

She had been locked into the championship for weeks, but that didn’t make the drama any easier to watch. The racing world was in turmoil, and as the cameras zoomed in on Dany’s wreck, Pau couldn’t help but feel the weight of the guilt creep in.

Dany had always been the fiery one, always the one pushing the limits, but to watch her sister crash out—even if it was Ale’s fault—left Pau feeling empty.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

But it was.

Pau looked down at her hands, feeling them tremble. She wasn’t sure how she felt anymore—conflicted, yes—but also, numb.

She had worked so hard to stay out of the mess between her sisters, but now, the damage was done. Dany might never race again, and it was Ale’s fault.

Pau exhaled sharply, standing up from the chair and pacing.

She had just won her spot in the championship, but at what cost?

Her sisters—her family—had completely fallen apart.

---

The season wasn’t over yet, but for Dany, it felt like everything was. The doctors were worried about her lungs, and the wreck had taken a toll on her physically and mentally.

Yet, despite all of it, there was one thing Dany knew deep in her heart.

This wasn’t just about the championship anymore.

This was about revenge.

And she would stop at nothing to make Ale feel every ounce of pain she had caused.

Chapter Text

The days after the crash blurred together into one long, agonizing stretch of time.

Dany’s body felt like it had been turned inside out, her muscles refusing to cooperate, her head constantly throbbing with a dull, persistent ache. But none of it compared to the frustration that settled in her chest, suffocating her.

She hated this.

She hated the way the doctors spoke to her in soft voices, like she was made of glass. She hated the way the nurses watched her every move, afraid she’d collapse if they so much as blinked. But most of all, she hated the way her own body betrayed her.

The first time she tried to stand on her own, her knees buckled instantly, sending her crashing to the floor. The pain wasn’t what hurt—it was the helplessness.

She gritted her teeth, pulling herself back up with shaking arms, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

She wasn’t weak.

She refused to be weak.

So she pushed harder.

She forced herself to get out of bed even when the room spun around her. She practiced walking without holding onto anything, even though she swayed like a drunk, barely making it to the other side of the room before collapsing back into the chair.

She would fix this. She had to.

Because if she couldn’t race, then who was she?

—

The day Pau and Ale visited, Dany wasn’t in the mood for company.

But they came anyway.

The moment they walked into her hospital room, Dany could feel the tension settle over them like a storm cloud.

Pau looked hesitant, shifting on her feet. Ale’s arms were crossed, her expression unreadable.

Dany sighed, rubbing her temples. "What do you want?"

Pau’s face hardened. "Nice to see you too, Dany."

"We came to check on you," Ale added flatly.

"I don’t need checking on."

Ale scoffed. "You barely made it out of that crash, and you expect us to just—what? Pretend everything’s fine?"

Dany clenched her jaw. "I don’t need your pity."

Pau exhaled, clearly trying to keep herself calm. "No one’s pitying you, Dany. We’re worried about you. You’re shutting everyone out."

Dany let out a dry laugh. "Oh, now you care?" She shot a glare at Ale. "Didn’t seem like you cared when you wrecked me."

Ale flinched, but her expression remained cold. "I didn’t mean for you to get this hurt."

"But I did," Dany snapped. "And now I’m stuck in this goddamn hospital, barely able to stand without feeling like I’m gonna pass out, while you get to walk away like nothing happened!"

Ale stiffened. "You think I walked away from this? You think I don’t feel like shit every day knowing I put you here?"

"Yeah? Could’ve fooled me," Dany spat.

Pau stepped forward, her voice softer, trying to break the rising tension. "Dany, please. We’re just trying to help."

"I don’t need your help!" Dany’s voice cracked, frustration spilling over as she clenched her fists. "I don’t need anyone!"

Pau’s eyes darkened. "Oh, really? Because from where I’m standing, you can barely walk!"

Dany’s breath hitched, the words hitting deeper than they should have. "Screw you, Pau."

"No, screw you, Dany!" Pau shot back. "We’ve been here for you every step of the way, but you keep shoving us aside like we don’t matter!"

"Maybe you don’t!"

The second the words left her mouth, she regretted them.

Pau’s face twisted into something Dany had never seen before.

Hurt.

Real, genuine hurt.

Ale stepped in before Pau could explode.

"You know what?" Ale said, voice like ice. "We’re done, Dany. We’ve tried to be there for you, but you don’t want us. Fine."

Pau’s hands trembled at her sides, her breathing uneven.

"You’re gonna regret this," she whispered.

Dany swallowed hard. "Don’t you dare leave me," she said, voice barely above a breath, desperation leaking through despite herself.

But Pau just shook her head.

"You already pushed us away."

And with that, they turned and walked out the door.

Dany sat there, stunned, staring at the empty doorway.

Then, slowly, she curled in on herself, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes.

She had finally done it.

She had finally driven them away.

And the worst part?

She had no one to blame but herself.

—

After that, no one visited her.

The nurses still came in, of course, but there was no warmth in their conversations. Just empty pleasantries and clinical observations.

Her team sent messages, but she didn’t read them.

Even social media had gone quiet—no more mentions, no more news articles speculating about her return.

She was alone.

And it was exactly what she deserved.

She tried to pretend it didn’t bother her.

She threw herself into rehab, pushing her body to its absolute limit, forcing herself through the exercises even when her vision blurred from exhaustion.

Every day, she’d wake up early, struggling through physical therapy with gritted teeth. The doctors told her to take it slow, but Dany didn’t know how to take things slow.

She had to recover.

She had to get back in the car.

It didn’t matter that she had no one left cheering for her.

It didn’t matter that she had burned the last of her bridges.

Because at the end of the day, she was still Dany Villarreal.

And she would find a way to stand on her own.

Even if it killed her.

Chapter Text

One Year Later – NASCAR Media Day

Dany Villarreal smirked as she adjusted the collar of her fire suit, rolling her shoulders back before stepping onto the photoshoot stage. The bright flashes of the cameras were already popping, and the crew was trying to keep everything moving smoothly.

She knew exactly what she was doing.

It had been a long, painful year—months of rehab, of doubts, of people whispering behind her back, questioning if she would ever get behind the wheel again. But here she was. Stronger. Smarter. More determined than ever.

And, most importantly—still a menace.

She settled into her first pose, planting her boot firmly on the stool in front of her and resting an elbow on her raised knee. Confidence oozed from her stance, her head tilted slightly as she shot the camera a look that screamed, I own this place.

The photographer adjusted his lens. “Alright, Dany, let’s try a more relaxed stance—”

Dany smirked. “Oh, I am relaxed.”

The next click of the camera captured her in a full manspread, arms thrown lazily over the back of the chair, looking like she ran the whole damn sport.

The PR team gave each other nervous glances. They knew what was coming.

NASCAR Twitter was about to explode.

—

@NASCARFan89: DANY VILLARREAL JUST MANSPLAINED, MANSPREADED, AND MANIPULATED HER WAY INTO MY HEART

@autxmatic_cc: DANY ATE THIS PHOTOSHOOT AND LEFT NO CRUMBS. We are witnessing a menace in action.

@StockCarQueen: DANY CAME BACK FROM NEAR-BRAIN DAMAGE TO ABSOLUTELY FLEX ON THE ENTIRE GRID. THIS WOMAN IS UNHINGED.

@MotorsportInsider: Dany Villarreal is officially back, and she has the entire NASCAR media team shaking.

—

Dany scrolled through her phone during a break, her smirk widening as she saw the reactions rolling in.

“Oh my God,” one of the PR reps groaned, watching the trending tab light up with her name.

“We just got you back in good graces with the sponsors, and now you’re out here acting like a villain again.”

Dany glanced up from her phone, raising an eyebrow. “Villain? Babe, I’m a goddamn superstar.”

She tossed her phone onto the makeup counter, standing up to stretch. A few other drivers were finishing up their shoots, but no one was owning it quite like she was.

Somewhere across the room, Pau was shaking her head at her antics. Pau had done her usual composed, professional poses, standing with perfect posture, looking every bit like the polished, serious contender she had always been.

Dany, on the other hand, was having the time of her life making the internet lose its mind.

“Your ego is insufferable,” Pau muttered when Dany strutted past her, throwing a wink at the cameras.

—

Dany may have been acting like nothing had changed, but she knew better than anyone how much it had taken to get here.

The recovery had been brutal. The months of physical therapy, the agonizing days of regaining her balance, the moments where she’d nearly given up because she thought she’d never race again.

But she had fought.

And now? Now she was back on top.

The season was starting soon, and she was going to remind everyone exactly who the hell Dany Villarreal was.

Her cocky grin returned as she struck another pose—one foot up on the stool, arms crossed, chin tilted slightly downward as she stared into the camera like she was daring the competition to challenge her.

Yeah. She was back. And this time, she wasn’t letting anyone stop her.

Chapter Text

Daytona International Speedway – Fan Zone

The sun was blazing, the energy was electric, and the fan zone was absolutely packed. NASCAR’s season was officially kicking off, and for the first time in years, all three Villarreal sisters were back in the same space, signing autographs, shaking hands, and trying (and failing) to tolerate each other.

Well, two of them were trying.

Dany? Dany was thriving.

Her meet-and-greet line was a mile long, stretching past the barricades and curling around the fan zone. Security had already extended her time slot twice, but it didn’t matter—the fans kept coming, swarming the tent in a sea of Villarreal merch, custom diecasts, and a concerning number of handmade signs that read “MARRY ME, DANY.”

And Dany? She was eating it up.

She leaned against the table, flashing a cocky grin as she signed a girl’s diecast. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

The fan practically melted. “Uh—uh—Melanie—”

“Well, Melanie, you’ve got fantastic taste,” Dany winked as she handed the signed car back. “Smart girl.”

The girl squeaked before scurrying away, leaving her friend to step up with shaky hands and bright red cheeks.

This was how it had been all day. Dany flirting, winking, tossing casual compliments, and driving NASCAR Twitter into a complete meltdown.

She turned to her next fan, a guy wearing a shirt that read, “Dany’s Six-String Surge > Your Favorite Driver” and pointed at it with a smirk. “Now that’s a fact, my man.”

He laughed hysterically as she signed his hat.

Dany was in her element, chatting, signing, and letting her ego run wild. And Pau and Ale hated every second of it.

—

Pau sat at her booth a few tents away, signing autographs without the chaos that surrounded Dany’s area. She still had a solid line—she was a championship contender now, after all—but compared to the circus over at Dany’s booth, it felt… lacking.

A couple of kids in Red Bull hats ran up, holding out their posters for her to sign. “Pau! You’re my favorite!”

She smiled, signing the posters with her signature precise handwriting. “Thank you! You been watching since last year?”

“Yeah! Your win at the Roval was so cool! But—” The kid hesitated, looking back at the roaring crowd surrounding Dany’s tent. “My brother likes Dany more. He says she’s ‘cooler.’”

Pau’s eye twitched.

She forced a smile. “Well, tell him winning is cooler.”

The kid nodded enthusiastically, but Pau couldn’t ignore the annoyance bubbling inside her. She had been busting her ass, racing smart, staying out of unnecessary drama, proving she was the most consistent driver of the three of them.

And yet, Dany could just show up, wink at a few people, and suddenly she was the fan favorite again.

—

Ale’s booth was even quieter than Pau’s. A few dedicated fans came through, rocking Vans hoodies and Fender-sponsored merch, but the turnout was nowhere near the overwhelming numbers Dany was pulling.

She tapped her Sharpie against the table impatiently, watching a guy in a “Team Ale” hoodie approach.

“You got screwed at Martinsville,” he said, handing her a hero card. “Dany had it coming.”

Ale snorted, signing the card. “Finally, someone with some sense.”

The fan laughed, fist-bumping her before walking off, but as Ale glanced toward Dany’s booth—where yet another fangirl was fanning herself like she was about to faint—her irritation flared.

“This is ridiculous,” she muttered under her breath.

One of her crew members, leaning against the tent’s side, chuckled. “You sound jealous.”

Ale shot him a glare. “Jealous? Of that idiot? Please.”

But she couldn’t deny it stung. She’d been racing just as hard. She’d been in the headlines for months. And yet? Dany waltzed back in like a rockstar and everyone just ate it up.

Ale drummed her fingers against the table.

She needed to change the narrative. Fast.

—

“You know, I think this is the best-looking crowd I’ve ever had,” Dany teased as she leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand.

A group of girls near the front squealed.

Her PR manager stood nearby, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Dany, for the love of God—”

But it was too late. Twitter had already latched onto every single moment of her meet-and-greet.

—

@DanysBiggestFan: I CANNOT SURVIVE THIS WOMAN. SHE CALLED US THE BEST-LOOKING CROWD. I AM SHAKING.

@SpeedwayGossip: Pau and Ale are somewhere absolutely fuming while Dany is out here flirting with every single breathing human in the fan zone.

@MotorsportDaily: Can someone check on Pau and Ale? Because Dany is stealing the entire show.

—

As the event wound down, Pau and Ale finally had enough.

They cornered Dany near the team trailers, where she was casually sipping a sports drink like she hadn’t just broken NASCAR Twitter.

Pau crossed her arms. “You are insufferable.”

Dany raised an eyebrow. “Wow. Strong words from Miss ‘Calculated and Composed.’”

Ale scoffed. “You hijacked the entire event.”

Dany took another slow sip. “Correction. The fans hijacked it. I just existed.”

Pau groaned. “Do you ever think about anyone but yourself?”

Dany smirked. “Rarely.”

Ale threw her hands up. “Unbelievable.”

Dany just grinned, unfazed. She was back, she was winning the fans over, and most importantly?

She was having the time of her life.

Chapter Text

Daytona Beach, Florida – 11:47 PM

Ale was still fuming.

The meet-and-greet disaster had been hours ago, but she couldn’t shake the image of Dany soaking up the spotlight, grinning like she owned the damn sport. Pau had been pissed, but Ale? Ale was outright livid.

Dany had swooped in effortlessly, taking over the fan zone like a rockstar while Ale and Pau—both of whom had been grinding for the past year—were left in the dust. Again.

Ale wasn’t about to let that stand.

So, when she found herself out at a late-night bar with some crew members, she had one goal in mind: Knock Dany off her high horse.

—

It was sometime after midnight when one of Ale’s mechanics, halfway through his third beer, pulled out his phone and started laughing hysterically.

“Dude—dude, you guys gotta see this,” he wheezed, tilting the screen toward Ale.

Ale squinted at the video, her irritation shifting to pure amusement within seconds.

It was Dany.

Absolutely hammered.

The footage was from last year, sometime during the offseason, but holy hell, was it golden.

Over the next hour, Ale collected an embarrassing amount of content:

Dany trying to moonwalk but tripping over her own feet.
Dany dramatically pointing at her own reflection in a window and yelling, ‘WHO IS THIS SEXY SON OF A BITCH?’
Dany drunkenly explaining tire strategy to a completely uninterested bartender.
Dany singing a horribly off-key version of “Livin’ on a Prayer” at karaoke.
And the pièce de résistance? Dany attempting to arm-wrestle a guy twice her size, losing immediately, then blaming it on “aerodynamic drag.”

Ale stared at the screen, grinning wickedly.

“Send me that.”

—

Ale didn’t even hesitate.

She knew how to play this game.

A few taps on her phone, and the video was uploaded with a caption that would haunt Dany for years:

@AleVillarreal: “And y’all think this is the coolest driver in NASCAR?”

The second she hit post, she knew she’d started something.

And sure enough—

NASCAR Twitter imploded.

—

Twitter (X) – 3:02 AM

@NASCARMemes: OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD. ALE DID NOT JUST DO THAT.

@DanyStan69: I’M CRYING THIS IS SO EMBARRASSING

@RacingReport: In possibly the greatest act of sibling rivalry we’ve ever seen, Ale Villarreal just posted the most humiliating video of Dany Villarreal imaginable.

@PauVillarrealFan: I WOKE UP TO CHAOS. WHAT IS GOING ON.

@AleVillarreal: [Replying to herself] No but fr how did she survive this level of public embarrassment and still walk around like she owns the place???

By morning, the video had millions of views, and even NASCAR’s official account had joined the chaos.

@NASCAR: “Aerodynamic drag” is now officially recognized as a valid excuse for losing.

—

By the time Dany actually saw the video, it was already viral.

She groggily unlocked her phone sometime around 6 AM, blinking at the overwhelming number of notifications before immediately sitting up.

The first thing she saw? Her own dumbass sprawled out on a karaoke stage, absolutely obliterated.

The second thing? Ale’s caption.

The third thing?

Her entire social media feed laughing their asses off.

Dany slammed her phone down. “I’M GONNA KILL HER.”

—

Meanwhile, Pau had been woken up by the sound of her phone vibrating off the nightstand.

She groggily scrolled through Twitter, piecing together what happened. The second she realized what Ale had done, she let out a long, exhausted sigh.

“Jesus Christ,” she muttered.

She didn’t even have the energy to pick a side.

—

By 7 AM, Dany was storming into the garage, hair a mess, looking like she had just rolled out of bed with a vengeance.

Ale was already there, leaning against a toolbox, looking far too pleased with herself.

Dany pointed a finger at her. “You’re dead.”

Ale smirked. “What? Can’t handle a little public humiliation?”

Dany gritted her teeth. “That video is from over a year ago. You really dug through the archives just to embarrass me?”

Ale shrugged. “What can I say? You pissed me off.”

Dany groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “You seriously need to find a better coping mechanism.”

Ale smirked. “Nah, this works just fine.”

Dany glared. “I’m getting revenge.”

Ale crossed her arms. “Try me.”

Chapter Text

Daytona International Speedway – The Day After the Viral Video

Dany was pissed.

She had barely gotten any sleep. Everywhere she looked, her face was plastered on NASCAR Twitter—except instead of being known for her insane closing speed or aggressive racing style, she was now the girl who wiped out on a karaoke stage.

And Ale was responsible.

Dany wasn’t going to let her little traitor of a sister have the last laugh.

No.

She was going to come back bigger, stronger, and cockier than ever.

And she had a plan.

—

Dany wasted zero time that morning.

She called her PR team, set up a last-minute photoshoot in the garage, and by noon, she was standing in front of the cameras, ready to set the internet on fire.

But this time?

She wasn’t just posing. She was making a goddamn statement.

She had her firesuit tied around her waist, the arms dangling loose over her hips. Tank top. Biceps flexed just enough to make a statement, the proof of years spent wrestling a stock car at 200 mph.

She leaned back against the hood of her Camaro, arms crossed, muscles flexing effortlessly.

She manspreaded on a tire, staring straight into the camera with a look that screamed:

Yeah, I’m that bitch.

She smirked. Winked.

Her photographer whistled. “Jesus, Dany, you’re about to give half of Twitter a heart attack.”

Dany grinned. “That’s the plan.”

—

Less than an hour later, Dany fired back at Ale with a single tweet.

@DanyVillarreal: “You thought you did something, huh @AleVillarreal? Lemme remind you who the real star is. Stay pressed, lil sis.”

Attached: A series of photos that immediately sent Twitter into a frenzy.

—

Twitter (X) – 2:31 PM

@NASCARFanatic: HELLO??? HELLO??????

@DanyNation: MOTHER??????

@StockCarDaily: The timeline is no longer recoverable.

@AleVillarreal: [Replying to Dany] YOU’RE SO FUCKING ANNOYING.

@PauVillarrealFan: Oh my god. The sibling war is out of control.

@HendrickMotorsports: Marketing GOLD.

@NASCAR: 🔥🔥🔥

—

Ale nearly threw her phone.

She was still riding the high from her Twitter victory the night before, but now? Now Dany had completely flipped the script.

And the worst part?

Dany looked badass as hell.

Ale clenched her jaw, scrolling through the endless thirst tweets flooding her timeline.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

Pau, sitting nearby, glanced over and smirked. “Regretting posting that video yet?”

Ale scowled. “Shut up.”

—

As Dany walked through the garage later that evening, she knew she had won this round.

Crew members whistled as she passed, fans were losing their minds, and even her own team was shaking their heads, half impressed, half exasperated.

She felt unstoppable.

And as she climbed into her car, preparing for the next race weekend, she smirked to herself.

Chapter Text

It was the morning before the next race weekend, and the media center was buzzing with anticipation. Every driver was gearing up for their interviews, but today was different.

It was the Villarreal Sisters’ Showdown, and the cameras were poised to capture every minute. This wasn’t just another standard media day. This was the day the world would get a glimpse of the emotional wreckage the trio had left in their wake.

The team heads were already gathered in the media area, their interviews lined up for the next several hours. Everyone knew that this was going to be one of the most highly anticipated events of the weekend.

---

Dany’s PR team was already in the limelight, making sure the cameras were set up for their star’s interview.

The team was practically buzzing around her as she lounged in a director’s chair, adjusting her fireproof suit and making sure her hair was just right.

She was feeling herself today. With the pictures she had posted just the day before, the entire media world was hers. The flood of online admiration had only amplified her cocky attitude.

Then came Pau. She was the polar opposite of Dany in every way. Pau’s PR people were much more laid back, making sure everything was in place before the start of her interview.

She wore a black T-shirt, jeans, and a simple pair of boots, her serious expression showing her focus. She was ready to face the media—but not for the drama. Pau had long since learned to keep her head in the game.

Lastly, Ale walked in, the tension radiating off her like a thick fog. Her usual cocky smile was replaced by a tight, thin-lipped expression.

Her eyes glinted with an icy fire that was a dangerous mix of rage and deep-seated frustration.

She was coming in with an agenda: to win, and to show everyone that no one was going to knock her down.

Each sister was interviewed separately, but all knew that at some point, they'd cross paths—likely in front of the cameras. Today was going to be a reminder that the Villarreal rivalry wasn’t just for show.

---

The first to sit in the spotlight was Dany. Her PR team had ensured that the camera angles were just right to capture every angle of her perfectly sculpted face, the way her muscles rippled underneath her fire suit. She leaned back in her chair, tossing a glance at the camera as she gave a confident smile.

“So, Dany, you’ve been on fire lately—on the track and in the media. Tell us, what’s your secret?” the interviewer asked with a smile, but Dany’s expression was one of pure cocky amusement.

“Secret? Baby, there’s no secret,” she replied smoothly, leaning forward. “It’s just me doing what I do best. On the track, off the track—I’m always the center of attention. I’m not surprised the media’s finally catching up. It’s about time.”

The interviewer chuckled, clearly enjoying Dany’s swagger. “You’ve certainly got a lot of people talking. But what do you make of all the attention on your sisters, Ale and Pau, lately?”

Dany’s grin didn’t fade. In fact, it widened. “Pau? She’s always been the quiet one, trying to play nice with everyone. But let’s face it—no one cares about the quiet girl unless she makes a scene. She can’t even get a crowd to show up at her meet-and-greet. And Ale? She’s just mad because she can’t seem to keep her head in the game.”

“You’re talking about the infamous Talladega crash, aren’t you?” the interviewer asked, his eyes gleaming with curiosity.

Dany didn’t flinch. “Ale’s a hothead. She wanted to take me out, and she did. I don’t blame her; she was probably tired of being in my shadow.” She leaned back, her tone casual. “But at the end of the day? I’m still the better driver. And she knows it. She’s still trying to catch up.”

“Do you think this rivalry is ever going to cool off?”

Dany shrugged. “Why would it? Drama’s fun. Let them all hate on me while I keep winning. I’ll be at the front, whether they like it or not.”

—

Next came Pau’s turn, and she sat down at the table, her demeanor completely different from her sister’s. She was calm—focused—and her eyes were steady as she addressed the camera.

The interviewer smiled warmly at Pau. “You’ve been doing great lately. You’ve had a very strong, consistent performance, and the fans are starting to notice. How does that feel?”

Pau gave a small, polite smile. “I appreciate the support. I don’t race for the fans, though—I race for myself. I’ve learned a lot over the past year. It’s about strategy, about doing things the right way, even when the pressure is on.”

“What do you make of the current state of your rivalry with your sisters?”

Pau sighed, the exhaustion of the situation weighing on her. “It’s frustrating, honestly. I thought we were a team. I thought we could support each other, but… things have changed. The competition’s gotten out of hand. The pressure’s been too much, and now… we’re more like enemies than sisters. It hurts, but I can’t change what’s happened.”

“How do you feel about the attention your sisters have been getting? Dany especially has been in the spotlight lately.”

Pau’s expression darkened just slightly. “Dany thrives on attention. She likes to be in the media, but… I don’t know. I’ve never needed the spotlight. I prefer to be in the background, doing what I do best. I’ve always been more about consistency and focus. Dany’s more about drama. I don’t know why it’s so important for her to keep throwing fuel on the fire.”

“Do you think things will ever get better with them?”

Pau shook her head. “I hope so. But I’m not holding my breath.”

—

And then came Ale.

She was visibly tense. There was no mask to hide her emotions today. The fire inside her was burning bright and she was ready to speak her mind.

“Ale, it’s been a tough season for you, especially after the crash at Talladega. How are you feeling now?” the interviewer asked.

Ale’s gaze was cold, her expression sharp. She spoke slowly, but her words came out with the precision of a weapon. “I’m fine. I’ve been better, but you know… life goes on. This is racing. You either take the hits and keep going, or you fold. And I’m not folding.”

The interviewer gave her a moment, sensing that the tension was high. “What about your relationship with your sisters? We’ve seen a lot of division recently. What’s going on there?”

Ale leaned forward slightly, her eyes narrowing. “Don’t talk to me about them. I don’t have time to waste on their drama. They’ve been in my way for too long. Dany’s too cocky for her own good, and Pau… Pau’s just too weak to keep up. I’m the only one who truly understands what it takes to win.”

There was a moment of silence, the tension in the room palpable. The interviewer cleared his throat. “But don’t you think you’re a part of the problem? Some say your reckless driving has contributed to the mess between you three.”

Ale’s eyes flashed, her voice dropping. “I’m not going to apologize for driving the way I do. I go after what I want. If they can’t handle it, that’s their issue, not mine.”

“Do you regret the way things have gone?”

“No,” Ale replied without hesitation. “I don’t regret anything.”

—

As the interviews wrapped up and the trio parted ways, the air was thick with unspoken words and emotions that none of them were ready to confront.

Dany was basking in the attention, as usual. Pau, on the other hand, was retreating into her quiet frustration. And Ale? She had barely held it together during the interview, her anger simmering just beneath the surface.

But the media was watching. The world was watching. The questions they were all too afraid to ask themselves would have to wait, because the cameras were rolling, and the story was far from over.

Chapter Text

The engines roared like an unrelenting storm, the grandstands packed with fans waiting for the moment they had been anticipating for an entire year. The Villarreal sisters were back at Daytona. But this wasn’t just another race—this was the rematch.

The past year had been a war. The crashes, the fights, the betrayals—everything had built up to this. And now, under the bright Florida sun, the three of them were staring down destiny itself.

The entire garage was abuzz with speculation. Who would win? Dany, the fearless warrior? Ale, the relentless aggressor? Or Pau, the strategic mastermind?

One thing was certain—this race was personal.

---

As the drivers climbed into their cars, the tension was suffocating. No words were exchanged. No nods of acknowledgment. No forced smiles.

Pau tightened her gloves, her heart pounding in her chest. She wasn’t here for revenge. She wasn’t here to prove anything to her sisters. She was here to win.

Ale, sitting in her car, cracked her knuckles, her jaw set in stone. The anger that had burned inside her for months was still there. She had unfinished business. And nothing was going to stop her.

Dany? She was as cocky as ever, grinning under her helmet. But there was something different in her eyes. Something darker. She wasn’t just here to race. She was here to take back what was hers.

The command came over the loudspeaker—“Drivers, start your engines!”

And with that, the battlefield was set.

---

From the drop of the green flag, the race was a chess match. Pau played it smart, hanging back just enough to stay in contention but not get caught in the madness.

Ale? She was aggressive from the start, forcing her way into gaps that barely existed, her car inches from disaster at all times.

And Dany? She was the storm. She weaved through traffic like she owned the place, side-drafting, blocking, pushing the limits at every corner.

The fans were on edge. Every lap, every move, every near miss had them gripping their seats.

---

With 50 laps to go, the intensity skyrocketed. The Big Three were still right there, in the fight.

Pau’s crew chief came over the radio. “We’re in a great spot. Stick to the plan.”

Ale’s spotter yelled, “Inside—clear! Outside—clear! Push it, Ale, push it!”

Dany? She barely listened to her crew. She drove on instinct.

With 20 to go, they were all in the top five. The inevitable clash was coming. It was only a matter of time.

---

With 10 laps to go, all hell broke loose.

Dany took the lead, Ale in second, Pau in third. The three of them, side-by-side, their bumpers inches apart.

Ale tried the outside. Dany blocked.

Pau dove low. Dany blocked again.

The tension was unbearable.

Five laps to go.

Ale bumped Dany’s rear bumper.

Dany held it.

Pau saw her opening. She went low—three-wide for the lead!

The crowd exploded.

Three laps to go.

Dany shoved Pau up the track. Ale saw the gap. She went for it.

The three of them were locked in a brutal battle. No one was backing down.

Final lap.

They stormed down the backstretch, Ale nosing ahead, Pau in the middle, Dany on the outside.

Turn 3.

Dany turned down—too hard.

Contact.

Ale’s car snapped sideways.

Pau checked up, but it was too late.

Dany tried to save it—she couldn’t.

Half the field was wiped out in a split second.

Smoke. Metal. Chaos.

And as the carnage unfolded behind them, one car emerged—

A winner.

Chapter Text

Daytona International Speedway - Final Lap

Three sisters. Three styles. One final battle.

The white flag waved, signaling the last lap of the Daytona 500.

Pau. Ale. Dany.

The entire crowd was on its feet. The garage area was silent, every crew chief and mechanic holding their breath. NASCAR Twitter was already melting down.

The Villarreal war had come down to this.

---

Pau—The Drummer’s Precision.

She had played the long game, conserving fuel, making the right moves at the right time. Now, she was in the lead, holding off both of her sisters with the control and discipline of a seasoned tactician.

Her spotter screamed into her radio.
"Block the runs! Stay steady! You got this!"

Pau’s hands were tight on the wheel, her breath shallow. Just one more mile.

Ale—The Bass Drop.

She was right behind Pau, inches from her bumper, waiting for her moment. Ale had spent the entire race biding her time, waiting for the perfect second to drop the hammer.

She saw a gap. A narrow window of opportunity.

"Now!"

Ale yanked the wheel, diving low—a Bass Drop move for the ages.

But she wasn’t the only one making a move.

Dany—The Six-String Surge.

Dany was flying on the outside lane, side-drafting, building momentum. She had timed it perfectly.

Her car was screaming at top speed, the airflow giving her the slingshot effect she needed. She soared past Ale, pulling alongside Pau.

The three sisters were side-by-side heading into Turn 3.

---

The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife.

Pau held the inside. Ale was charging up the middle. Dany had the outside lane.

The grandstands shook with the roar of the fans.

Three sisters. Three different philosophies. One checkered flag.

Pau’s spotter yelled, "They’re coming—HARD!"

Ale’s crew chief screamed, "SEND IT!"

Dany’s radio was pure static as her team shouted, "YOU'VE GOT THIS, BLOCK NOW!"

Then—it happened.

Pau’s car sputtered.

Her fuel gauge had hit empty.

In a split second, her car lost speed.

Ale, seeing the opportunity, dived even lower.

Dany, in full attack mode, threw a massive block.

Too late.

Ale didn’t lift.

CRASH.

The impact was violent.

Dany’s car turned sideways at 200 mph, the rear bumper of Ale’s car catching her just enough to send her barreling into the outside wall.

The Big One—again.

Smoke. Metal. Chaos.

The field behind them erupted in wreckage, cars slamming into each other, sparks flying.

Ale’s car was still upright, but she was sideways, sliding uncontrollably.

Pau, barely keeping her car steady, dragged across the apron, her speed fading.

The finish line was just ahead.

The wreckage was behind them.

Who would cross first?

---

Ale's car skidded—spinning—out of control.

Dany was in the wall, her car destroyed.

Pau’s engine was coughing, barely able to keep going.

The finish line was only yards away.

With one final desperate move, Pau yanked the wheel, keeping her car straight.

Ale’s car—still sliding—was coming fast.

For a split second, it looked like Ale was going to spin across the line first.

But Pau—her car rolling on fumes—inched ahead.

And then—

Checkered flag.

Pau Villarreal won the Daytona 500.

The grandstands exploded.

The broadcasters were screaming.

The garage was in shock.

It was supposed to be Dany’s redemption.

It was supposed to be Ale’s revenge.

But it was Pau’s victory.

Her name was forever etched in history.

---

Dany sat in her wrecked car, staring at the carnage around her, breathing heavily.

Ale slammed her fists against her steering wheel, furious.

Pau? She was too stunned to even celebrate.

As she rolled her car into victory lane, the realization hit her—

She had finally done it.

She had beaten both of them.

And as the cameras flashed, as the trophy was handed to her, as the confetti rained down—

One question lingered in the air.

What happens now?

Chapter Text

Dany sat motionless in her wrecked car.

Smoke curled around her like a suffocating blanket, the acrid scent of burning rubber filling her nose. The world outside was chaos—spotters yelling, emergency crews rushing to wrecked cars, the roar of the crowd vibrating through the speedway.

She heard everything, yet none of it felt real.

Not the static-filled voices in her earpiece, not the pounding of her heart against her ribs, not the crushing weight of her own breath.

And then—

"Your 2025 Daytona 500 winner—Pau Villarreal!"

The words stabbed through her like a knife.

Her grip on the wheel tightened.

Her pulse pounded in her ears.

She blinked once. Twice. The pain in her body suddenly didn't matter.

Pau had won.

Pau, the sister who had never been in the feud. Pau, the one who had walked away when things got too messy. Pau, the one who was supposed to be second to her and Ale.

Pau had won.

And Dany had lost.

Her throat clenched as she tried to swallow down the emotion rising in her chest. It didn’t work. The first sob broke through before she could stop it.

She dropped her head against the steering wheel, gripping it so hard her knuckles turned white.

This was supposed to be her race.

This was supposed to be the moment she proved to everyone—the fans, the media, Ale, Pau, her crew, herself—that she wasn't broken. That she could come back from a career-altering injury, from the doubts, from the fear that had clawed at the edges of her mind since Martinsville.

That she could still win.

But she didn't.

Ale had wrecked her.

Pau had beaten her.

And now, Dany sat there in a destroyed car, surrounded by wreckage, feeling the walls cave in.

Her breath hitched. Another sob.

She couldn’t stop them now.

Tears streaked her face, hot, bitter, humiliating.

She was supposed to be the strong one. She had spent months rebuilding herself, training harder than ever, clawing her way back into the driver’s seat. She had sworn she wouldn’t let anyone ruin her career.

But it felt like it had all been for nothing.

A hand banged on her window. Her crew chief.

“Dany, you alright? Come on, open up!”

She couldn’t.

She didn’t want them to see her like this. Broken.

She curled in on herself, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. She wiped at her eyes furiously, but the tears wouldn’t stop.

Another voice came over the radio—one of the reporters, probably waiting outside her car, ready to shove a mic in her face the moment she stepped out.

“Dany Villarreal, finishing 25th today after a last-lap wreck. Heartbreaking end to a promising run, especially after last season’s near career-ending injuries. Will we see her bounce back?”

Dany squeezed her eyes shut, rage curling in her stomach like fire.

Bounce back?

As if this was just another setback? As if she could just brush it off, slap on a fake smile, and pretend she was fine?

She wanted to scream at them. No, I won’t bounce back. I shouldn’t have to. This was supposed to be my moment.

Another sob shook her shoulders.

She had fought so hard. For what?

---

Minutes passed. Maybe longer.

Her radio had gone quiet. The crew had stopped knocking.

The crowd outside the car was moving on, celebrating Pau.

Dany had been forgotten.

She slowly reached up and unbuckled her belts. Her hands trembled as she pulled off her helmet, sweat-soaked hair falling messily around her face.

She could see Pau on the big screen, standing in victory lane, confetti sticking to her firesuit, champagne dripping from her gloves as she hugged her crew.

Pau looked so happy.

A year ago, Dany might’ve felt proud. A year ago, she might’ve run down to victory lane and tackled her younger sister in celebration.

Now?

She felt sick.

Her hands curled into fists as she let out a shaky breath.

Pau didn’t steal the win. Ale did.

If Ale hadn't blocked her so aggressively—if Ale had just let her race—Dany would have won.

This wasn’t just another race. This wasn’t just another loss.

This was proof that Ale had ruined her.

Ruined her shot at redemption. Ruined everything.

The anger surged, drowning the sorrow, the heartbreak.

She gritted her teeth, throwing her helmet against the dashboard with a loud, hollow crack.

She wasn’t going to let this go.

Chapter Text

Ale ripped off her gloves the second she stepped into the garage, tossing them onto the workbench with a sharp slap. Her chest heaved with every breath, her jaw clenched so tight it felt like her teeth might shatter.

She could still hear the roar of the crowd from victory lane.

Could still see Pau’s beaming face on the screens.

Could still feel the wreck—the split-second where Dany’s aggressive block forced her hand, where she didn’t lift, where the impact sent them both spinning in a shower of sparks.

And then Pau, of all people, had stolen the damn win.

Ale ran a hand through her hair, fingers tangling in sweat-soaked strands. Her crew avoided her gaze, smart enough to give her space. They knew when she was on the verge of snapping.

And she was right there.

Her fingers twitched, itching to throw something, break something, do anything to get this rage out of her system.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

This was supposed to be her moment—her redemption, her revenge, her proof that she was still the best driver in the damn family.

Not Pau. Not the one who ran away from the fight.

“Ale! Ale! Can I have your autograph?”

Her head snapped up, her vision still hazy with frustration as a small figure approached.

A kid.

A little boy, maybe six or seven, clutching a hero card in one hand and a diecast of her car in the other. His eyes were wide, hopeful, looking at her like she was still some kind of hero.

“Why didn’t you win?” he asked, his voice innocent, pure curiosity.

Ale’s stomach twisted.

She didn’t have an answer.

She didn’t have the patience.

Her hands curled into fists as the words tumbled out—sharp, biting, coated in venom.

“Because racing’s not fair, kid.”

The boy blinked, his smile fading, his tiny hands tightening around his diecast car. He looked stunned, confused—like she had just crushed something inside him.

His mother quickly stepped in, placing a protective hand on his shoulder and giving Ale a sharp look before leading him away.

Ale knew she had messed up.

She should’ve stopped him. Should’ve apologized. Should’ve signed the damn hero card and pretended like she wasn’t raging inside.

But she didn’t.

She turned away, storming deeper into the garage, ignoring the quiet whispers from nearby crew members.

Let them talk.

Let them say whatever they wanted.

She didn’t care.

She didn’t visit Pau.

Didn’t congratulate her.

Didn’t even look toward victory lane.

Instead, she grabbed a wrench and threw it across the garage, the clatter echoing in the silence.

“DAMN IT!” she yelled, voice raw, throat burning.

She should have won.

She would have won.

And she wasn’t going to forget this.

Chapter Text

The champagne was still fresh on Pau’s fire suit as she walked through the paddock, her heart racing with the thrill of finally winning the Daytona 500.

She had done it.

Against all odds, against everything that had tried to pull her down—she had won.

Her hands still trembled from the adrenaline, her mind replaying those final laps over and over. The moment she crossed the line. The eruption of the crowd. The pure, unfiltered joy of knowing that she had etched her name into history.

Her crew had been ecstatic, lifting her onto their shoulders, dousing her in victory lane chaos. Reporters swarmed, shoving microphones in her face, cameras flashing as she tried to put words together.

But nothing she could say truly captured how it felt.

How, after everything—the losses, the doubts, the crash, the pain, the heartbreak—she had finally won.

And now, long after the crowd had dispersed, the celebrations still going strong in the haulers and team suites, Pau found herself wandering through the quiet part of the infield.

She needed to see Dany.

Pau wanted to share this with her.

She wanted to tell her they had done it—that after all the blood, sweat, and tears, a Villarreal had won the Great American Race.

That all of them, as much as they had fought, as much as they had torn each other apart—they had made each other stronger.

She rounded the corner of the Joe Gibbs hauler and saw Dany sitting on a stack of tires, her fire suit still half on, arms resting on her knees, head tilted down.

She hadn’t even changed.

Pau’s smile widened, her excitement bubbling over as she walked up.

“DANY! We did it!” she laughed, barely able to contain herself. “I freaking won the Daytona 500!”

Dany didn’t look up.

Pau slowed.

Her excitement dimmed just a little.

“Dany?” she tried again, stepping closer.

Dany took a slow breath, her shoulders rising and falling before she finally spoke.

“You won.”

Her voice was flat.

Emotionless.

Like the words themselves had no meaning to her.

Pau hesitated, her heart knocking against her ribs. She had expected excitement from her sister, or at least something close to pride.

But Dany’s voice sounded like something else entirely.

Like she was forcing herself to say it.

Like it hurt.

Pau took another step, forcing a smile, hoping maybe Dany just needed a second to process it all.

“Yeah! I mean—can you believe it? I thought for sure I was out of it when I started running low on fuel, but I—”

Dany finally looked up.

Pau’s words died in her throat.

Dany’s eyes weren’t filled with pride or happiness or even disappointment.

They were filled with something deeper.

Something breaking.

Something that made Pau’s stomach twist.

Dany wasn’t okay.

“You won,” Dany repeated, softer this time, her voice cracking on the last word.

Pau opened her mouth to respond, but Dany shook her head.

“This was supposed to be my race.”

Pau swallowed hard.

Dany let out a hollow laugh, rubbing her hands over her face before she suddenly shoved herself up from the tires, pacing a few steps away.

“This was supposed to be the moment where I proved that I could come back. That I wasn’t just a washed-up driver with brain damage and a messed-up lung.” She turned back to Pau, eyes burning with something that looked too much like anger. “This was supposed to be my redemption.”

Pau’s stomach twisted again, guilt creeping in even though she knew she had done nothing wrong.

Dany let out a breath, looking away. “But you won instead.”

Pau tried to reach for her. “Dany, that doesn’t mean—”

Dany took a step back.

Pau’s hand hovered in midair before she slowly let it drop.

Dany let out another bitter laugh, shaking her head. “Of course, you won. Of course, it was you.”

Pau’s breath hitched.

Dany’s voice was raw now, filled with something close to pain.

“You were always the perfect one, weren’t you?” Dany muttered. “The one who never got into fights. The one who kept her head down, played it safe. The one everyone wanted to win.”

Pau opened her mouth, but no words came out.

Dany clenched her jaw. “And me? I was always the one who wasn’t good enough.”

“That’s not true,” Pau said quickly, stepping closer.

Dany finally met her gaze, and for the first time that night, Pau saw it.

The heartbreak.

The grief.

The absolute devastation of losing what was supposed to be her moment.

Dany let out a shaky breath and looked away.

“Go celebrate, Pau.” Her voice was quieter now, almost exhausted. “Go enjoy your win.”

Pau hesitated, but Dany had already turned away.

A lump formed in her throat as she watched her sister retreat into the shadows, disappearing into the hauler.

This was supposed to be her moment of victory.

But somehow…

It felt like she had just lost something instead.

Chapter Text

The garage was silent.

Dany sat on the cold concrete floor, her back against the workbench, staring at the empty void in front of her.

Her firesuit was still on, though half-unzipped and tied around her waist. The adrenaline had long since burned away, leaving only a gnawing emptiness in its place.

She felt hollow.

Broken.

Her hands trembled as she ran them through her tangled hair, gripping at the roots, squeezing her eyes shut.

You lost.

Again.

No. This wasn’t just a loss.

This was supposed to be her comeback.

This was supposed to be the moment where she proved to the world—to herself—that she could come back from everything. The injury, the rehab, the doubt, the pain.

She had spent a year fighting to fix herself.

To get stronger. To prove she was still Dany Villarreal—the driver that everyone feared on track, the driver that no one could count out.

But she wasn’t that driver anymore.

She hadn’t been for a long time.

Pau had won.

Not her.

Not the sister who had fought through physical therapy. Not the one who had spent endless nights in the gym, pushing herself past the breaking point. Not the one who had spent hours rewatching race footage, looking for something, anything to convince herself that she still belonged here.

No.

It had been Pau.

Perfect, composed, unshakable Pau.

Dany felt her breath hitch, her chest tightening.

Her vision blurred.

Her fingers curled into fists.

For the first time in years, she let out a shaking breath—and sobbed.

It came violently, like a dam finally breaking, her whole body curling in on itself as she buried her face in her arms.

She wasn’t supposed to be like this.

She was supposed to be strong.

She was supposed to be cocky, confident, untouchable.

She was supposed to win.

But she hadn’t.

And suddenly, the thought hit her like a freight train—maybe she never would again.

She gasped sharply, sucking in a breath, but it felt like there wasn’t enough oxygen in the world to stop the crushing weight on her chest.

Her lungs felt tight.

Her heart ached.

She had given everything to come back, and it still wasn’t enough.

She still wasn’t enough.

What’s wrong with me?

The thought slammed into her with so much force that it physically hurt.

Dany pressed her palms to the sides of her head, her breathing ragged, fast, uneven.

Something’s wrong with me.

Something was broken.

She wasn’t fast enough. She wasn’t smart enough. She wasn’t—

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to silence the thoughts, but they were deafening now.

I have to fix this. I have to fix myself.

She needed to get better.

She needed to train harder.

She needed to erase every single weakness until she was back to who she used to be.

Because this?

This version of her?

The one who hesitated in the final laps. The one who wasn’t aggressive enough to make the winning move. The one who sat on the floor of her garage crying like a failure?

She hated her.

She didn’t want to be this person.

She needed to become Dany Villarreal again.

The real Dany Villarreal.

The one who didn’t hesitate. The one who didn’t let anyone take what was hers. The one who didn’t feel like this—this ugly, suffocating weakness.

Her breathing was still uneven, but she forced herself to stand.

Her legs shook beneath her.

She caught herself against the workbench, her fingers gripping the edge so hard her knuckles went white.

She needed to train.

More.

She needed to make herself better.

Faster. Stronger. Sharper.

She needed to destroy whatever weakness had been left in her.

Because this?

This feeling?

It could never happen again.

Chapter Text

The track was silent, save for the hum of the fluorescent lights lining pit road. It was well past midnight—everyone had long since gone home. The grandstands stood empty, the garages locked, the infield eerily quiet.

But on the track?

A lone engine roared through the night.

Dany gripped the wheel, her knuckles white as she rocketed down the straightaway, her speedometer creeping past 190 MPH—then 195—then flirting with the edge of 200.

No spotters. No crew. No guidance.

Just her.

Just speed.

The car vibrated violently as she dove into the turn, her tires skimming dangerously close to the outside wall. She should’ve lifted, should’ve braked—but she didn’t. She kept her foot buried in the throttle, letting the car slide through the turn, barely catching it before she lost control.

Her heart pounded, but she didn’t care.

She needed this.

She needed to feel alive.

She needed to feel like she was still capable.

Capable of going fast. Capable of winning. Capable of being Dany Villarreal.

Another lap.

Another turn taken too aggressively.

The back end of the car twitched—she corrected, her pulse spiking, but she still didn’t lift.

The silence in her helmet was deafening. No spotter calling out her pace. No crew chief warning her about tire temps. Just the howl of the wind rushing past, the scream of the engine at the limit.

And then—

“Dany, what the hell are you doing?”

She nearly lost control right then and there.

The voice crackled through her radio—one she wasn’t expecting.

Ale.

Dany blinked in shock, her foot instinctively letting off the throttle for the first time all night.

“How—” she started, voice hoarse from the dry air in her cockpit.

“I have my ways,” Ale shot back. “Now answer the damn question.”

Dany didn’t.

She shoved the throttle back down, the car launching forward again, pushing herself even harder.

“Are you insane?!” Ale barked. “You’re running blind at Daytona with no crew, no telemetry, no spotters—do you have a death wish?!”

Dany ignored her.

She was fine.

She didn’t need a spotter. She didn’t need a crew.

She needed to go fast.

“Dany.” Ale’s voice cut through again, sharper this time. “You’re swerving all over the place. That’s not driving, that’s self-destruction.”

Dany’s grip tightened on the wheel, jaw clenched.

“Why do you care?” she shot back bitterly.

Silence.

Then—

“…Because I know what you’re doing,” Ale said, voice lower this time. “I know how it feels to lose yourself in this sport. To feel like you have to fix yourself before you’re worth a damn again.”

Dany swallowed hard.

She hated how accurate that was.

The car swayed slightly beneath her as she entered Turn 3—she was pushing it too hard again, her tires screaming against the banking.

“Lift, you idiot,” Ale snapped.

Dany’s pride flared. “I don’t need you to coach me.”

“Well, you’re driving like you do.”

Dany grit her teeth but eased up—slightly—as she powered through Turn 4.

Ale sighed. “Look, you wanna push yourself? Fine. But at least let me guide you.”

Dany scoffed, but her pulse skipped. “You? Guide me?”

Ale let out a dry laugh. “Yeah, shocking, right?”

Dany didn’t answer.

Her tires hit the line to start another lap.

Ale’s voice came through again, but this time, it was calmer.

“Alright. Keep steady into Turn 1. You’re entering high—start arcing it down.”

Dany hesitated.

She didn’t need her.

She didn’t—

But…she followed the command anyway.

Her car swept down the banking, smoother this time, controlled.

“Good. Now hold it through the center. Don’t overcorrect—let the car do the work.”

Dany exhaled sharply, trying to block out everything except the road ahead.

Another turn.

Another clean exit.

Ale kept calling it. Dany kept following.

It was almost natural.

And for the first time all night, the chaos in Dany’s head quieted.

Just for a moment.

Just long enough to remember what it felt like to be in control.

Chapter Text

It started with a phone call.

Dany was the first to get it.

She was half-asleep, tangled in sheets, her phone vibrating furiously on the nightstand. She groaned, grabbing it without even looking at the caller ID.

"Yeah?" her voice was hoarse, barely awake.

She heard sobbing. Not just any sobbing—their aunt’s sobbing.

Her heart dropped into her stomach, her body going cold before she even heard the words.

“Dany—mija, you need to come to the hospital—your parents—there was an accident—”

Dany sat up so fast she nearly got whiplash. "What? What do you mean? What happened?"

"They—" More sobbing. "It was a drunk driver. They were hit head-on."

The world stopped spinning.

Dany’s breathing turned shallow. Her body knew before her mind could catch up.

"No. No, no, no—" she muttered, already scrambling out of bed, her hands shaking so violently she nearly dropped the phone.

She didn’t even remember putting on shoes. Didn’t remember how she got to her car. Didn’t remember sending texts to Pau and Ale, only that she did.

She just knew she had to get to the hospital.

---

Ale was at the gym. She was pounding at a punching bag, sweat dripping down her forehead, music blasting in her ears, when she saw Dany’s name pop up on her phone screen.

She almost ignored it—until she saw the texts.

Get to the hospital now.
Mom and Dad were in an accident.
It’s bad.

The last message made her stomach drop.

Ale stood frozen in place, the music still blaring, but she didn’t hear it anymore. Her heart was racing, but not from the workout.

The next thing she knew, she was in her car, speeding toward the hospital, gripping the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turned white.

---

Pau was the last to get the news. She had been reviewing race footage, the sound of engines roaring in her headphones, when her phone started buzzing violently against the desk.

Her first reaction was irritation. Then she saw the messages.

Then she couldn’t breathe.

She didn't remember getting up from her chair. She didn’t remember grabbing her keys. She just remembered running.

Running to her car. Running every red light. Running into the hospital as if she could outrun reality itself.

---

When all three of them got to the hospital, they ran into each other in the waiting room.

Dany was already there, pacing, her hands tangled in her hair. Ale was pale, her fists clenched so tightly her nails dug into her palms. Pau looked dazed, like she wasn’t fully in her body.

They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to.

Then, the doctor came out.

And everything changed.

---

The doctor’s words didn’t make sense at first.

"I'm so sorry... we did everything we could."

The room spun.

Pau stumbled backward, like the words physically hit her. Ale inhaled sharply, her face crumpling, but she didn’t cry. She just stared at the doctor like she couldn’t process what he was saying.

Dany didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

Her ears were ringing, her vision narrowing.

No. No, this wasn’t real.

They had just talked to their parents yesterday. They were fine. Alive. Laughing.

And now—

Gone.

Dany clenched her jaw so tight she thought her teeth might break. She wanted to scream. Wanted to throw something. Wanted to punch the walls until her knuckles bled.

Instead, she just stood there. Silent.

The silence after you visited the hospital for the last time was deafening.

Chapter Text

The funeral felt unreal, like they were moving through some terrible, slow-motion nightmare they would never wake up from.

The church was packed. Family, friends, colleagues, even people their parents had barely known—all there, dressed in black, murmuring quiet condolences. It was overwhelming.

Pau and Ale were absolute messes.

Pau trembled so hard she could barely hold the tissue in her hands, her face blotchy and red from crying. She had been the first to break, the first to sob, barely able to breathe as she clutched onto Dany’s sleeve like it was the only thing keeping her upright. Every few seconds, she would whisper something—"This isn't real," "They can’t be gone," "I should’ve done something"—as if saying it enough times would somehow undo reality.

Ale had started off quiet, deathly quiet, until the moment they had to walk past the caskets. That was when it hit her.

"No, no, no—" Her voice cracked, and then she was gasping, stumbling backward, like if she just refused to go near them, she could make it all disappear.

Dany had to grab her, had to hold her up as she shook violently, her breath ragged and uncontrollable.

"It’s okay," Dany had whispered, though it wasn’t okay. It would never be okay.

Ale had buried her face in Dany’s shoulder, gripping the back of her dress like a child, like the same little girl who used to crawl into her bed in the middle of the night, terrified of the monsters under the bed.

But there were no monsters here.

Only death.

Dany wanted to grieve. She wanted to fall apart just like them, to let herself feel the loss instead of swallowing it whole.

But she couldn’t.

She was the oldest. The big sister. The one who had to keep it together.

So she didn’t cry.

She didn’t let herself collapse under the weight of it all.

Instead, she kept her arms around her sisters, held them up when they couldn't hold themselves, nodded politely at every person who came up to them saying the same tired phrases—"I'm so sorry for your loss," "They were wonderful people," "If you need anything, just call"—like any of it mattered, like it would bring them back.

The only time she truly faltered was when the priest spoke about their parents’ love for their daughters. How proud they had always been, how they had lived to see their girls succeed.

Dany clenched her jaw so hard it ached.

She wanted to believe they had been proud.

But all she could think about was how they never got to see their biggest acomplishments.

They never got to watch Pau win Daytona.
They never got to see Dany come back from the worst injury of her life.
They would never get to see Ale’s redemption arc.

They were just gone.

And then came the final moment—the part that made it real.

The burial.

Pau and Ale broke again as they lowered the caskets into the ground.

Dany didn’t. She couldn’t.

Instead, she stepped forward, taking the last flower from the bouquet, her fingers shaking as she placed it gently on top of the coffin.

The silence after they died.

She clenched her fist.

The silence after you visited the hospital for the last time.

She swallowed hard.

The silence after you stopped begging God all night to heal them.

She closed her eyes.

The silence after you put the last flower on top of the coffin.

Dany didn’t cry.

Not when the priest gave the final blessing.
Not when Ale and Pau sobbed into each other’s arms.
Not when she turned away from the grave, gripping her sisters’ hands as they walked away from the only home they had ever known.

She didn’t cry.

Not then.

But maybe someday.

Chapter Text

The ride back to Dany’s apartment was quiet.

Nobody spoke.

When they got inside, Dany threw her keys onto the counter and rubbed her face with her hands, exhausted beyond belief.

Ale sat on the couch without a word, staring at the floor like it held all the answers she didn’t have.

Pau stood near the window, arms crossed tightly around herself, as if holding herself together.

Then, slowly, she turned and looked at her sisters.

And the dam broke.

She let out a choked sob and stumbled toward them, collapsing into Dany’s arms.

Dany barely had time to react before Ale joined, pressing herself into the hug, her body shaking.

For the first time in a long time, they weren’t racers. They weren’t competitors. They weren’t rivals.

They were just three broken girls who had lost the only people who had ever truly loved them unconditionally.

Dany, for once, didn’t make a joke. Didn’t try to act tough.

She held them tighter, burying her face in their hair, squeezing her eyes shut.

“I got you,” she whispered. “I swear, I got you both.”

And in that moment, she meant it.

She had spent her whole life fighting, racing, proving herself. But none of that mattered anymore.

Now, all she had left was them.

And she wasn’t going to let go.

---

It was deep into the night when Dany heard the soft creak of her bedroom door. At first, she thought she was imagining it, stuck somewhere between exhaustion and grief, but then she heard the hesitant shuffle of feet against the floor.

She didn’t have to turn over to know who it was.

"Ale," she murmured, voice rough with exhaustion.

There was no answer at first, just the faintest sniffle, the kind that someone tries to hide but never really can. Then, finally—

“I can’t sleep,” Ale whispered.

Dany sighed, shifting over in bed, lifting the blanket in silent invitation.

She had never been the overly affectionate type, but tonight wasn’t about pride or space or stubbornness. Tonight was about the fact that they were still here, still breathing, still alive—when their parents weren’t.

Ale hesitated for only a second before crawling into bed beside her, curling onto her side, her back against Dany’s chest.

She was shaking.

Dany rested her chin on the top of Ale’s head, arms wrapping around her like they used to when Ale was little, her tiny shadow who used to run to her whenever she was scared of the dark.

Ale never wanted their mom or dad when she had nightmares. She always wanted Dany.

And right now, it felt like they had gone back in time.

Dany tightened her arms, anchoring Ale to the only reality that mattered—that she wasn’t alone.

“It’s okay, Alita,” she murmured, voice thick, the old nickname slipping out like it had never left.

Ale let out a sharp breath, somewhere between a sigh and a sob. She turned slightly, pressing her forehead into Dany’s collarbone, her fingers curling into the fabric of Dany’s shirt like a child clinging to a lifeline.

“I miss them,” Ale admitted, her voice cracking.

Dany swallowed hard, closing her eyes. “I know.”

Silence stretched between them. Not the awful, unbearable silence of the funeral. Not the suffocating, deafening silence that followed their parents’ deaths.

This silence was different. It was heavy, yes—but it was also safe.

“I keep thinking about what Mom would say if she saw us right now,” Ale muttered after a long moment.

Dany smirked, though there wasn’t much humor in it. “She’d probably tell us to stop being stubborn and take care of each other.”

Ale let out a weak, breathy laugh. “And Dad would probably tell me to stop being such a pain in the ass.”

Dany chuckled softly,put somthing here. “He wouldn’t be wrong.”

Ale huffed, but she didn’t move away.

They lay there like that for a long time, neither willing to let go.

Dany didn’t know when Ale finally fell asleep, but at some point, her breathing evened out, her body going slack in Dany’s arms.

And for the first time since their world had shattered, Ale wasn’t alone in the silence.

---

The first morning back in Dany’s apartment was painfully quiet.

No race-day alarms. No over-excited team radio chatter. No bickering over strategy. Just… silence.

Dany hated it.

She had never liked silence—not this kind, anyway. It gave her too much time to think. Too much time to remember.

So she got up earlier than usual, pushing through the stiffness in her muscles, and started making breakfast.

She wasn’t the best cook, but she could make the basics—eggs, bacon, toast, some cut-up fruit. Enough to make sure neither of her sisters went hungry.

Not that they’d want to eat much.

Ale had barely touched anything last night. Pau hadn’t even tried.

Dany glanced at the hallway. She could hear faint movement from Pau’s room, the sound of a bedsheet shifting, a quiet sniffle. Ale’s door stayed closed.

She sighed, turning back to the food. If they weren’t going to take care of themselves, then she would.

Minutes later, she had three plates set on the small kitchen table, steam still rising from the eggs. The smell alone should’ve been enough to lure them out of their rooms.

But neither of them came.

Dany rolled her eyes. Fine. If they weren’t coming to breakfast, she was bringing breakfast to them.

She knocked on Pau’s door first.

"Get up, Rock Star," she called. "You need to eat."

A groggy, muffled groan answered her. "I’m not hungry."

"I don’t care," Dany replied, pushing the door open.

Pau was curled under her blankets, her face barely visible under the dim morning light. Her hair was a mess—her redroots had already started fading into a dull pink. Her eyes were puffy, dark circles lining the skin underneath.

Dany sighed, stepping inside. She set the plate on the nightstand and crossed her arms.

"You’re gonna eat," she said, firm. "And you’re gonna finish it."

Pau gave her a deadpan look. "Since when did you become a mom?"

"Since you two stopped acting like functioning human beings," Dany shot back. "Now sit up and eat before I force-feed you like a damn toddler."

Pau huffed but, surprisingly, sat up. She took the plate with a grumble, poking at the eggs with her fork.

Dany nodded, satisfied. "Good."

Next was Ale.

Dany didn’t even knock—just barged in.

"Alejandra," she said, crossing her arms. "Kitchen. Now."

Ale was sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on her knees, staring at the floor like it had personally wronged her.

She didn’t even flinch at Dany’s entrance.

"I’m not eating," she muttered.

Dany narrowed her eyes.

"Yes, you are."

Ale didn’t respond.

Dany walked over and set the plate on her lap. "You’re eating, and that’s final."

Ale clenched her jaw. "Why do you care?"

"Because I don’t want to lose another person, Ale," Dany snapped. "So eat the damn food before I make you."

Ale’s shoulders stiffened.

For a moment, Dany thought she would fight back, maybe throw the plate across the room just to be difficult.

But she didn’t.

She just sat there.

Quiet.

Still.

Then, finally, she picked up the fork.

She didn’t look at Dany as she took a bite, chewing slowly, like it took actual effort to eat.

But she ate.

And that was enough.

---

Later that afternoon, Dany found Pau sitting on the bathroom counter, lazily scrolling through her phone, her faded purple hair sticking up in every direction.

"You look like hell," Dany commented, leaning against the doorframe.

Pau snorted. "Gee, thanks."

Dany smirked. Then she held up a familiar black box.

"Let’s fix that mess," she said, shaking the hair dye bottle.

Pau blinked. "Wait, you want to do it?"

"Yeah. Why not?"

Pau raised an eyebrow. "You suck at dyeing hair."

Dany shrugged. "So? You trust me or not?"

Pau hesitated. Then, slowly, she smirked.

"Fine. But if you mess it up, I’m shaving your eyebrows in your sleep."

Dany rolled her eyes but motioned for her to sit properly. "Yeah, yeah, just don’t move too much."

As Dany started applying the dye, the silence between them wasn’t as suffocating anymore. It was… comfortable.

"Hey, Dany?" Pau murmured.

"Yeah?"

"Do you think things will ever be the same?"

Dany paused, fingers brushing against Pau’s scalp.

She exhaled through her nose.

"No," she admitted. "But that doesn’t mean it can’t be better."

Pau didn’t say anything for a while.

Then, quietly, she muttered, "I hope you’re right."

---

That night, Ale finally spoke.

They were all sitting on the couch, watching some random show neither of them really cared about, when Ale suddenly turned down the volume.

Pau and Dany glanced at her.

She was staring at her hands, fingers intertwined, shoulders tense.

"I need to explain," she said.

Neither of them said anything.

Ale swallowed hard. Then, without looking up, she continued.

"I wasn’t trying to destroy you," she said, voice thick. "I just—I wanted it so badly. I wanted to win. I wanted to be the best. And I was so afraid of losing that I didn’t care who I had to take down to do it."

Dany and Pau exchanged glances but said nothing, letting her speak.

Ale clenched her fists.

"When I stole your car, Pau," she said, voice barely above a whisper, "I didn’t know it would go that far. I just—I wanted to rattle you. I wanted to win. I wanted to prove I was better. But I never wanted to take everything from you."

Pau’s jaw tightened.

"You did take everything from me," she said. "You nearly ruined me, Ale. I lost everything because of you."

Ale squeezed her eyes shut. "I know."

The room fell silent.

Dany exhaled.

"Look," she said, rubbing the back of her neck. "We’re not there yet. I don’t think we’ll ever be able to just pretend like none of this happened. But..." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "We are still sisters."

Ale finally looked up, eyes red and tired.

"You don’t hate me?" she asked.

Dany sighed. "I think I wanted to. For a long time. But hate doesn’t fix anything."

Pau nodded slowly.

"I don’t forgive you yet," she admitted. "But... I don’t want to hate you either."

Ale sniffed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

"I’ll take what I can get," she whispered.

The silence stretched.

Then, without warning, Pau nudged Ale’s shoulder.

Ale blinked at her.

"You are buying me coffee for the next month, though," Pau said.

Ale let out a short laugh. "Fine."

Dany smirked, nudging Ale from the other side. "You’re also driving next time we go out. No complaints."

Ale groaned. "You guys suck."

Pau grinned. "Welcome back to sisterhood, dumbass."

For the first time in a long time, it didn’t feel like war.

It felt like home.

---

Weeks passed. The world kept moving. Racing continued. Fans cheered. Life went on.

But for them, everything felt different.

Dany was the first to return to the track. But she wasn’t the same.

Ale and Pau were close behind, throwing themselves into training, into routine, into anything that kept them from feeling too much.

And for the first time, they saw things clearly.

The potential you see in other people isn’t actually there.

It’s just what you would do in their shoes.

And in the end, the only people they could ever truly rely on—

Were each other.

---

That was the day they became more than sisters.

They became a team.

And soon, the world would know it, too.

Chapter Text

The punching bag rattled on impact.

Dany exhaled sharply, sweat dripping down her temple as she fired another jab—then a right hook. The sting of her knuckles barely registered through the wraps around her hands.

She had been at the gym for hours. She needed this. The routine. The discipline. The burn in her muscles that told her she was still capable of pushing herself.

Her body wasn’t the same as it had been before Martinsville. The lung damage had left her with occasional shortness of breath, and the brain injury still made balance a challenge. But she wasn’t going to let it define her.

She threw another punch. Harder.

The past year had taught her one thing: she was still a fighter.

Her trainer called for a break, but Dany shook her head, grabbing the jump rope instead. The rhythm of the rope slapping the floor was hypnotic. Jump. Land. Jump. Land. Over and over.

She wasn’t just training for NASCAR anymore. She was training for something bigger.

But she didn’t realize just how big until her phone buzzed.

A message from her agent.

One line.

“Mexico wants you in Formula 1.”

Her breath caught.

She stopped mid-jump, heart pounding harder than it had all session.

F1?

Mexico?

Her?

She barely had time to process it before she saw the next message.

“Ale and Pau got the same offer. They want all three of you.”

Dany’s grip tightened around her phone.

She had fought her entire life to be the best. To be better than her sisters. But this…

This was something else entirely.

A new challenge.

A new battlefield.

A new war.

She wasn’t sure how she felt about it yet—but she knew one thing.

She was never one to back down.

---
The roar of the engine filled Ale’s ears as she maneuvered the car through high-speed corners, pushing the limits of her simulator rig.

She lived for this.

Her feet danced between the throttle and the brake as she attacked the track, her hands gripping the wheel tightly. She had been up since sunrise, drilling every aspect of her racing technique.

Her NASCAR season had been brutal—the wrecks, the rivalries, the scandals. But she wasn’t letting any of that slow her down. If anything, it made her hungrier.

The sim rig shook as she hit the curbs aggressively, a perfect execution of a high-speed chicane.

She grinned.

Then her laptop screen lit up with an email notification.

At first, she ignored it, keeping her focus on the virtual track ahead. But then she caught the subject line.

Formula 1 – Team Mexico Opportunity

Her foot slipped off the gas.

Ale’s heart raced, but she kept her face unreadable as she clicked the message.

They want me?

Her eyes scanned the email.

Her. Pau. Dany.

On a Formula 1 team together.

Her breath caught in her throat.

F1 was the biggest stage in motorsport. The pinnacle. The dream. And they wanted her?

Her hands clenched into fists.

She wasn’t sure how to feel about sharing a team with them, but one thing was clear—this was her chance.

Her redemption.

Her legacy.

And there was no way in hell she was letting Pau or Dany outshine her.

She smirked.

Game on.

---

Pau’s heart pounded as she stared at the email on her phone.

Her hands trembled slightly.

Formula 1.

She had spent years fighting for her place in racing, carving out her own path separate from the chaos of her sisters. She had rebuilt herself after the Talladega wreck. She had clawed her way back from the darkest moments of her life.

And now?

Now, she was being given the biggest opportunity of her career.

She set her phone down, exhaling shakily.

For years, NASCAR had been her world. The oval circuits, the strategy, the endurance—it was all she knew.

F1 was different.

It was precision. Engineering. Perfection.

Could she really do this?

Could she stand on a podium with the Mexican flag draped behind her?

Could she fight for wins in a whole new world?

She closed her eyes, thinking back to every race she had fought through. Every moment where she doubted herself and came out stronger.

Then she opened them.

Her answer was clear.

She picked up her phone and typed a reply.

“I’m in.”

---

The air was thick with tension.

The three sisters sat at the long conference table, eyes locked on the representative across from them.

A large screen displayed the Team Mexico logo, with three blank driver slots underneath.

“You’ve all proven yourselves in NASCAR,” the representative said. “Mexico wants a team in Formula 1. And we want you three to be our drivers.”

Silence.

Dany leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, unreadable.

Ale smirked slightly, but her eyes burned with challenge.

Pau sat up straight, focused, determined.

It was the three of them.

Together.

On the biggest stage in racing.

The representative folded his hands. “So, what do you say?”

Dany exhaled, a slow grin creeping across her face.

Ale tapped her fingers on the table, amusement flickering in her eyes.

Pau simply nodded.

Their next war had just begun.

Chapter Text

The NASCAR office was eerily quiet. No media reps, no cameras, no endless piles of paperwork or phone calls. Just a few chairs, a table, and, on the floor, a small race track made entirely of carpet tiles—each square laid with precision, the winding turns and chicanes a clear representation of the circuits they had raced on.

And in the middle of it all were three women.

Dany, Ale, and Pau.

But this wasn’t your typical driver meeting or strategy session. This was something far more important. Far more serious.

They were playing with diecast cars.

“What do you mean, I have to be the red car? I’m clearly the one who’s gonna win.” Dany crossed her arms, eyeing the little red replica of her car with skepticism. The car’s paint job was perfect, right down to the sponsor decals. Still, she wasn’t thrilled.

“Fine,” Ale muttered. “I’ll be the yellow car. The best car on the track.” She reached down and picked up the yellow diecast, holding it like it was a trophy. She gave Pau a quick smirk. “This one’s gonna take the win. You can’t touch me.”

Pau, who was already gripping the blue diecast car with concentration, rolled her eyes. “Sure, sure,” she said dryly, her voice unamused but a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “We’ll see about that.”

Ale and Dany had insisted they play. It started innocently enough—just a casual discussion about how each of their cars could dominate on track. But, as the conversation continued, and tension from their racing careers seemed to weigh on them, something snapped.

They had begun arranging their cars on the carpeted track like it was a real race. A few laughs turned into some serious competitive fire, and now, here they were—setting up the race of their lives.

“Alright, the track is set. Three laps,” Pau declared, tapping the carpet with her finger as if the starting line was a real finish line. “Winner gets… I dunno, bragging rights for the next week?”

“Make it a month,” Dany added, already leaning in to rev the engine of her diecast with exaggerated noises. “I need to hear how awesome I am for a full month, at least.”

“I think I should win,” Ale said, half-joking, half-deadly serious. She gave Pau a competitive glance. “Because obviously, I’m the best driver here. Just look at my car. Pure speed.” She held it up as if it were some kind of golden trophy.

Dany snorted. “Please, if anyone’s winning, it’s me. My car’s got style. Not to mention, I’m the most consistent driver.”

Pau finally broke into laughter. “Okay, enough talk. Let’s race.” She placed her car at the starting line, holding it in place with a determined look in her eyes.

“Okay, okay, I’m ready,” Ale said, grinning. She had her yellow car ready for action, eyes narrowed with a playful glint of mischief. “But I’m not going easy on you guys.”

“Are you ever?” Dany muttered under her breath as she placed her red car next to Pau’s blue one.

“All right, all right!” Pau shouted as she slapped the desk for emphasis. “On three. One… two… THREE!”

And with that, the three of them began racing—or, well, at least they tried.

Ale’s yellow car zoomed forward with her fingers pushing it expertly along the track. Dany’s red car followed suit, rolling easily through the turns. Pau’s blue car lagged behind a bit, but only by a hair.

The noise in the room intensified as they took each curve with aggressive precision. The diecast cars clicked and scraped along the tiny ridges of the carpet, and each turn felt like a NASCAR corner—except, instead of high-speed laps, the drivers were hunched over, focused on small, meticulously timed movements.

“This is ridiculous,” Dany muttered, almost sounding like a real race. “I can’t lose this. Not to you two.”

“I thought you said we couldn’t touch you,” Ale teased, her yellow car slipping past Pau’s blue one with ease. “Looks like I got the fastest ride here.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Pau said, rolling her eyes. “We’ll see about that.” She aggressively pushed her blue car forward, knocking Ale’s yellow one just a bit off track.

“No fair!” Ale yelped, trying to catch up. “You’re taking advantage of the rules!”

“Rules?!” Pau responded, laughing. “There are no rules in this race!”

The competitive atmosphere was palpable as they barreled toward the final lap, each car making tiny skids around the corners. Dany was so focused she nearly lost her balance while leaning forward.

“Not today, Pau,” Dany growled, eyes narrowed as she gave her red diecast an extra push. Her car shot forward, bumping Pau’s blue car off the track.

“You just wait,” Pau muttered under her breath, re-positioning her car for a comeback. She glared at Dany with a grin. “You know, that’s how it goes—in racing!”

As the three cars neared the finish line—well, the fake finish line—they were practically side by side. It was neck and neck, and the air in the room felt like it was crackling with tension. But it wasn’t just the fake race. It was the years of rivalry, the stories, and the deep love they had for the sport.

In the end, it was too close to call. The diecast cars collided just before the “finish line,” and all three cars came to a slow, skidding halt.

The room fell silent.

“Who won?” Ale asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I think it was me,” Dany said with a smirk, pointing toward her red car.

“No way,” Pau said. “My blue car was definitely ahead. I’m calling it.”

“Fine, then it’s a draw,” Ale said, tossing her hands up in defeat.

“Not a draw!” Dany argued, moving her red car a little forward. “I clearly took the lead.”

“Shut up, Dany,” Pau laughed, poking her with her finger.

They all burst out laughing together, the tension of the track and the rivalries melting away.

“I think we can all agree,” Ale said, wiping a tear from her eye from laughing so much, “we’re all equally terrible at playing with cars.”

“You don’t have to tell me that,” Dany said with a grin. “I think my hands were shaking more than when I’m in an actual race.”

“I’m just glad we finally got to do something ridiculous like this,” Pau said, still catching her breath from laughing so hard. “Maybe we can turn it into a tradition—next race weekend.”

Ale groaned. “No way. I’m not doing this again. It’s too stressful. I’m going to need a whole week to recover.”

“Yeah, well, don’t act like you don’t love it.” Dany winked.

“Alright, alright,” Pau said, holding up her hands in mock surrender. “Let’s just call it a tie.”

And as the three of them sat back, tired but happy, in the office surrounded by the playful chaos of tiny cars on a carpet track, they realized one thing.

Racing was serious. But every now and then…

It was nice to have a little fun.