everything has changed ➺ charles leclerc

twenty-four - charles

As the lights go out and the race begins, I launch off the line from pole position with a surge of power, leaving behind a trail of burning rubber. The roar of the engines and the wave of sound from the crowd washes over me, but my focus remains razor-sharp.

Maintaining my lead into the first corner, I feel the pressure of the chasing pack right on my tail. The fierce competition pushes me to push myself even harder, knowing that the slightest mistake could cost me valuable positions. I navigate the twisting turns of Monza with precision, maximizing the grip of the Ferrari beneath me.

My race engineer's voice crackles through the radio, providing updates on the gaps between me and the drivers behind. The team's meticulous planning and strategy unfold flawlessly, allowing me to focus solely on the race ahead.

The familiar red blur of the other cars fills my mirrors as I weave through the iconic curves of Monza. The intense battle for position sees me defending my line, making calculated defensive moves to hold my position at the front. The pressure is relentless, but I refuse to buckle under it.

With each passing lap, I push the limits of my driving skills and the Ferrari's capabilities. The car responds to my every command, devouring the straights and hugging the corners. The tifosi's cheers grow louder with every lap, fueling my determination and igniting a fire within me. The feeling of complete control, of commanding the pace, is nothing short of exhilarating.

Suddenly, the calm of the race is shattered by a sharp interruption in my earpiece. Xavi, my race engineer, urgently relays the message through the radio, interrupting the intoxicating rush of adrenaline. "Red flag, Charles. I repeat, red flag," he imparts, forcing me to ease off the throttle and maneuver my car towards the pit lane.

Confusion tugs at my mind as I question Xavi, trying to comprehend the reason for the interruption. "Why?" I transmit, my voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and frustration as I gradually decelerate and make my way towards the designated pit area.

"We are checking," Xavi responds, his voice laden with a sense of urgency. I can almost hear the flicker of concern beneath his words.

My eyebrows knit together, a blend of apprehension and worry seizing my thoughts. "Did someone crash?" I inquire, my mind racing as I await Xavi's reply.

"Negative, Charles. We don't have the details yet, but it appears to be an incident unrelated to the race," he clarifies, leaving me with a tinge of unease in the pit of my stomach. "Something seems to have occurred in the paddock." With a sudden realization, I swiftly disengage the steering wheel and hastily disembark from the car, my instincts propelling me towards the pit wall.

"What's happening?" I urgently query Fred, our team manager, who appears visibly flustered by the unfolding events.

"There's a fire in one of the motorhomes," Fred reveals, a flicker of panic in his eyes. "Authorities have issued an evacuation order for the entire paddock."

A surge of dread courses through my veins as my thoughts immediately turn to her. "And what about us?" I blurt out, a sense of urgency gripping me as the acrid scent of smoke fills my nostrils. I pivot on my heels, surveying the scene, my eyes locking onto Mick engaged in a grave conversation with Max, a look of sheer horror etched across his face.

"We've been instructed to evacuate as well," Fred confirms, his voice strained with a mix of concern and determination. Sensing my next move, he offers a resolute nod, acknowledging the shared determination that binds me and my teammate.

Without another moment's hesitation, I swiftly stride towards Mick, our eyes meeting in silent agreement. We share a single purpose, united by the instinctual need to protect those we hold dear. The race may be temporarily halted, but the urgency of our personal mission propels us forward, ready to sprint towards the paddock and ensure the safety of our loved ones.