A dead silence fell.
The screams, the cheers, the praise, the chatter—it all vanished, dissolving into nothing. People held their breath, trying to silence their own heartbeats as they strained to catch the faintest sound from the other end of the radio waves. They still couldn't believe the Mini Cooper had already passed the Piazza del Popolo, and with such effortless grace.
If you closed your eyes, you could almost imagine it was just a gust of wind blowing past.
The silence was finally shattered by the desperate, angry roar of the Shelby's V8 engine, a sound that tore through the air and crashed into their phones and walkie-talkies. Only then did the crowd in Piazza Cavour remember—
Oh, right. There was another car.
The gap was enormous.
Three seconds? Five? Maybe even more.
The time difference between the Mini and the Shelby arriving at the Piazza del Popolo was so vast that it needed no commentary. The result was already obvious.
There were still two long straights left after the piazza—one across the bridge back to their side of the river, and another long stretch of road leading to the finish line. This was supposed to be the Shelby's territory, its chance to stage a comeback. But now, it was clear the Mustang would never even make it to its grand stage. The race was already over.
No one had expected the Mini Cooper to beat the Shelby Mustang. And absolutely no one had expected it to be a one-sided slaughter. There had been no suspense at all.
…That was it?
They looked at each other, the shock and disbelief in their eyes fading into a blank void. They opened their mouths to say something, but their minds were empty.
The sounds from the phones were still a chaotic mess. You could hear Matteo's Mustang struggling miserably on the cobblestones, its suspension unbalanced, its nose plowing into understeer. The consequence of his earlier wheelspin was a total lack of grip; it was like he was driving on ice.
Though Matteo was desperately trying to get through the piazza and onto the final straights, the more he rushed, the more he panicked, fighting a losing battle against the slick surface.
Over there, Matteo was still fighting for his life in the roundabout.
Over here, a new sound was emerging. At the end of the straight, the navy-blue Mini Cooper was slicing through the night and bursting back into view.
WHOOSH!
In an instant, the crowd erupted. The raw, hormonal energy of speed and passion ignited, and they could no longer contain their ecstatic cheers.
"Unbelievable!"
"Whoa! Mamma mia!"
"Brilliant! Brilliant! That was absolutely brilliant! Aaaaaah!"
In the middle of the crowd, Lorenzo was waving his beer bottle, laughing so hard he was bent over. A mischievous glint in his eye, he decided to stir the pot.
"MINI!" he roared.
"MINI!"
As Lorenzo led the chant, the bustling crowd surged toward the Mini Cooper, which had just executed a perfect, stylish stop right at the finish line. One by one, they joined in, raising their fists in the air.
"MINI!"
But Kai remained in the driver's seat, not getting out, not even rolling down the window.
That wouldn't do. Lorenzo wanted to see the look on his face. Pushing his way through the crowd, he walked right up to the car. He found Kai leaning against the window, one hand resting lazily on the steering wheel, a relaxed, almost sleepy expression on his face.
Lorenzo let out a disbelieving laugh. "Hey, man! You won! Aren't you going to crack a smile?"
Kai just shrugged. "Is this really something worth celebrating? Lorenzo, don't lower yourself to that level. You should have a little more faith in yourself."
If Kai could beat Lorenzo, then a driver like Matteo was an absolute cakewalk.
Lorenzo was speechless for a second. "Right, right. Thanks for the friendly reminder from the Mini God."
He was teasing, but the sarcasm had no effect on Kai. He pushed the door open, stepped out, and casually clapped Lorenzo on the shoulder. As Lorenzo looked on, confused, Kai placed the car keys back into his hand.
Lorenzo stared at them.
Right. He'd forgotten. This was his car. Damn it!
Just then, the stumbling roar of the Shelby's engine finally reached them. Maybe it was just an illusion, but the engine note no longer sounded powerful. It sounded like the pathetic whimper of a beaten dog, a constant reminder of what had just happened. The crowd immediately erupted in a fresh wave of merciless whistles and jeers, eager to rub salt in the wound.
SLAM!
Matteo threw his car door open without even killing the engine. His face was flushed, his hair drenched in sweat as he charged straight for Kai. His bloodshot eyes seemed to see nothing else. This was his last chance, the final straw he could grasp to save his face and his reputation.
Lorenzo saw him coming and took a step back to avoid getting caught in the storm, but he still shouted a warning. "Watch out!"
Kai saw him too.
He didn't back down. In fact, he met the aggression with more of his own. He clenched his fists, took two large strides, and lunged toward Matteo like a pouncing tiger, throwing the first punch.
The fist cut through the air with an audible rip.
"Ah!"
Matteo let out a pathetic shriek. He slammed on the brakes and stumbled backward, flailing his arms to cover his face, desperately hoping his clumsy footwork would save him.
Haha!
The crowd howled with laughter, doubling over and clutching their stomachs.
When the punch never landed, Matteo slowly realized what a coward he looked like. His face turned a deep shade of crimson. He chanced a glance at Malèna and wished the ground would swallow him whole. He started shouting, spittle flying from his mouth.
"It was just luck! Your piece of junk got lucky!"
He glared in Malèna's direction, his voice a low growl.
"The Vitale family doesn't lose to outsiders! Another race!"
Kai unclenched his fist and dusted off his palms, wiping away imaginary dirt. "Old man, I told you. My appearance fee is very high. You can't afford it."
Hahaha! HAHAHAHA!
The crowd's laughter was like thunder. Matteo's face went from red to a deep purple. He rolled up his sleeves, looking like he was about to fight everyone.
Lorenzo had already taken a step and given a quiet warning in Italian to the two bodyguards.
It finally dawned on them that if Matteo got into a fight, they would be the ones to take the blame. In Rome, the streets had their own rules. The Vitale family wouldn't blame Kai for what happened tonight; they would blame the incompetent, rage-fueled Matteo—and the bodyguards who failed to stop him from embarrassing the family further.
They rushed forward, grabbed Matteo, and began dragging him back toward the Shelby, which now stood as a monument to his shame. One bodyguard held him while the other jumped into the driver's seat, and they sped away.
ROAR!
The crowd let out one final, triumphant cheer.
The sea of people parted, and Malèna, a vision in her flowing red dress, was once again revealed. She looked a bit shy, but there was a resolute determination in her eyes.
The onlookers started catcalling, chanting her name.
Malèna walked forward slowly, the hem of her dress swaying, her fingers toying with the fabric. A sly glint appeared in her eyes as she prepared to make good on the bet.
But to her surprise, Kai shifted his position slightly. He leaned in, his cheek brushing against hers. His body heat was like a soft breeze against her skin, and goosebumps erupted all over. Malèna forgot how to breathe. He brought his lips close to her ear and, amidst the cheering crowd, spoke in a voice only the two of them could hear.
"I told you," he whispered. "You are not a trophy. No one has the right to treat you like one."
And just as quickly, he pulled away.
The cool night air rushed in to fill the space between them.
Malèna stood frozen, goosebumps still prickling her arms. She stared at him, the only sound in the world the chaotic, frantic thumping of her own heart.
Not far away, Samuel, who had been watching the scene unfold, let out a long breath and turned to his friend. "Let's go. The race is over. I'll take you back to your hotel."
Todt, however, remained rooted to the spot. He stared at Kai, a distant, thoughtful look in his eyes, as if he were contemplating something of immense importance.