The desert sun dropped low behind the grandstands and painted the sky over Yas Marina in copper and dark violet. Overhead, the floodlight towers came on one after another and threw a bright white glow across the track. Heat still rose off the asphalt, and the air smelled of race fuel and hot brakes.
Liam sat still in the cockpit of the Halden car at the very back of the grid. The seat held him tight around the shoulders, and his belts were pulled down hard across his chest and lap.
The static in his earpiece cleared.
"Radio check, Liam," Pete said over the radio. "How do you hear me?"
Liam pressed the radio button on the steering wheel. "Loud and clear, Pete. Seat's fine. Pedals feel good."
