Chapter 139 The Red Head

• Viktor leaned against the railing at the edge of the VIP lounge, his sharp eyes following the roaring cars as they zipped around the racetrack below. The night air was electric with the buzz of the crowd, the thunderous engines sending vibrations through his chest. A glass of champagne rested in his hand, untouched, as he considered the temptation that had been gnawing at him since the first lap.
• He was a driver at heart. Long before the mafia, the billions, and the weight of his family legacy, racing had been his first love. The rush of adrenaline, the sound of tires screeching against asphalt, the thrill of victory—it had all been his dream. But life had a cruel way of stealing dreams and replacing them with responsibility.
• Tonight, however, was different. Watching the race wasn’t enough. His fingers itched to grip a steering wheel, his foot to slam the accelerator. He needed to feel the road beneath him, to push limits in a way that nothing else could.