~Jeremy’s POV~

The cigarette burned slowly between my fingers, the smoke curling up toward the wooden ceiling of the lodge like it was searching for a way out. I leaned against the counter by the wide glass window, one shoulder pressed into the cool stone wall, staring out at the stretch of mountains beyond. The morning here in Monaco was quiet in a way that felt peaceful and grounding. I loved it.

I shouldn’t have been smoking.

I knew that. My lungs needed to be clean. My body needed to be sharp. This race wasn’t some underground run I could muscle through with adrenaline and rage. This was official. International....