The media scrum at Silverstone was a wall of noise and flashing lights that Leo hadn't been prepared for. Journalists who had ignored him for three years were now shoving microphones toward his face, their questions a blurred mess of
"Who are you?"
"Where did you learn to drive like that?"
"Where have you been hiding for three years?"
"How does it feel like to secure the F2 Championship Licence?"
"Was that pure luck, or have you been holding back?"
"Are you the real deal, or a one-hit wonder?"
Anya stepped in front of him, her presence as immovable as a tank. She didn't say a word to the reporters. She simply grabbed Leo's arm and steered him toward the back of the Arcadia garage, slamming the plastic shutters down behind them.
The sudden silence of the garage felt heavy. The mechanics were still there, standing among half-disassembled engine parts and stacks of tires, but they weren't working. They were waiting on them.
