Luca's patience finally wore thin.
Vasquez was no longer just a nuisance; he was a liability. Every botched apex cost Luca time he didn't have, and every slow exit allowed Luigi to creep closer, eroding the lead Luca had painstakingly built.
The time for patience had passed. Luca tightened his grip on the wheel and adjusted his entry, preparing to dictate the terms of the encounter. If the door wasn't going to be opened, he'd have to kick it down.
He still couldn't fathom Vasquez's logic. The defiance was senseless. There was no tactical advantage to be won, only the looming threat of a third blue flag. A penalty was a certainty if he continued, and for a driver of his standing, a penalty at this stage would be career-defining carnage.
The crowd's disapproval was audible even over the roar of the engines, a wave of vitriol following the Spaniard through every turn.
"This isn't racing, it's a barricade!"
"Is he just trying to feel relevant?"
