Page 23 of Cold Ignition

“Then we don’t waste time,” Kael said. He looked back at Keanu. “You ready to bring Ahi out of retirement?”

Keanu held his gaze.

There was no hesitation in him now.

No uncertainty.

Just something sharp. Focused.

“I was ready the second you said their names,” he said.

Then he turned slightly, already moving toward the exit.

“I’m going to need my car.”

Luca blinked. “That’s it? No dramatic speech? No brooding moment?”

Keanu didn’t slow. “They’re running out of time,” he said.

That was all.

Behind him, Kael’s voice carried through the room.

“Gear up. We roll in thirty.”

Chairs shifted. Weapons checked. Movement snapped into place with practiced efficiency.

Black Tide was in motion.

And Ahi—was coming back.

Chapter Five

Rangi woke to silence, and every instinct he had ever trusted told him it was wrong.

Not the soft quiet that comes before sunrise. Not the steady lull of a place settling into itself. This was the kind that pressed in from all sides—thick, watchful, waiting for something to break it.

He didn’t move at first. Didn’t even open his eyes. He lay there on the cold concrete with one arm folded beneath his head and let his breathing slow, controlled, and even, while his awareness stretched outward through the abandoned building that had become their shelter.

Somewhere deeper in the building, a loose sheet of metal tapped against a beam in an irregular rhythm. Dust shifted with every breath of air, carrying the dry, stale scent of old smoke and neglect.

No voices. No footsteps. No immediate threat. But that didn’t mean they were alone. Rangi opened his eyes.

Grey light filtered down through a collapsed section of ceiling above them, the early morning sun diffused by dust and debris into something dull and lifeless. It painted everything in muted tones—concrete, rust, the remnants of a place that had once held people and purpose and now held nothing but ghosts.

Beside him, Alexios lay sprawled on his back, one arm thrown over his eyes as if blocking out the light. His chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm, but there was tension in the line of his body that said he wasn’t as asleep as he looked.

Rangi let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, then pushed himself up onto one elbow, wincing as the movement pulled along his ribs. The bruise there had deepened overnight, a tight, burning reminder of how close the last race had come to ending everything.

“You’re doing that thing again.”

Alexios didn’t move as he spoke, voice rough with sleep and pain and something faintly amused.

Rangi glanced at him. “What thing?”

“The one where you pretend you’re not already three steps ahead of the problem.” Alexios shifted slightly, lowering his arm to reveal one dark eye watching him. “And also, the one where you pretend that problem isn’t about to get us both killed.”

Rangi huffed out a quiet breath, something that might have been a laugh on a different day. “Not pretending.”