Page 77 of Cold Ignition

“Perimeter’s hot,” Luca said. “Multiple hostiles engaging. Vehicles inbound from the south—fast.”

Keanu spun the car through a tight arc, headlights flaring across the track.

“Rangi,” he said.

“Already moving,” came the reply—low, feral, right where Keanu expected it.

The east side exploded into motion.

Rangi came out of the shadows like something let off a chain—close, brutal, no wasted movement. He hit the first guard at speed, shoulder-driving into the man’s center before his fist followed, hard and decisive. Bone gave. The man dropped.

Another swung.

Rangi stepped inside it, elbow up, then drove the man back into the side of a car with a crack of metal and breath leaving lungs.

“Two down,” he said, not even breathing hard. “Driver’s clear.”

“Keep him moving,” Kael ordered. “Get them to the extraction lane.”

“On it.”

Alexios didn’t crash into the fight so much as he cut through it.

Where Rangi was impact, Alexios was angles—appearing where he needed to be, removing problems before they fully formed. A man raised a weapon toward the cluster of drivers being pushed toward the far exit—Alexios was there, wrist locking, redirecting, the shot snapping wide as he drove the man down and finished it clean.

“West corridor secured,” he said calmly. “Three drivers moving. Two require support.”

“Victor, cover,” Kael said.

“On it.”

Another suppressed crack and a body dropped near Alexios’s path.

Keanu pushed the car forward again, using it now as more than transport—cover, disruption, force. He cut across the track, blocking a line of incoming vehicles, forcing them to brake hard or crash. One clipped the side of his car—metal screamed—but Keanu rode it out, correcting, shoving the other vehicle wide.

“Easy,” Drew’s voice came through, dry even now. “I just fixed that.”

Keanu huffed a sharp breath. “You can fix it again.”

“Not if you wrap it around a truck.”

“Working on not doing that.”

Another vehicle surged in from the south. Faster. Heavier.

“Intercepting,” Keanu said.

“Negative,” Kael snapped. “You stay mobile. Do not get boxed in.”

Too late. The truck swung wide, cutting across the track, trying to pin him between concrete and steel. Keanu didn’t brake.

He dropped a gear and punched through the narrowing gap, the side mirror shearing off as he skimmed the barrier, sparks flaring in a brief cascade of light.

“Jesus,” Rangi breathed. “Show-off.”

Keanu grinned under the helmet. “You love it.”

“Focus.” Alexios’s voice, sharp now.