Page 69 of Cold Ignition

At the man who was stepping deeper into something they barely understood yet.

And for the first time since they’d come back together—since the bus. Since the shift, Rangi felt something colder settle under his skin.

Not doubt. Something sharper. Because this was so much more than dangerous. And they had just put Keanu right in the middle of it.

Rangi exhaled slowly, gaze hardening.

“Yeah,” he said under his breath. “We’re going to burn this place to the ground.”

Alexios didn’t respond immediately.

His attention stayed on Keanu—on the man who had stepped back into a world that would eat him alive if they let it.

“We don’t have time to circle this,” Alexios said finally, voice level but edged with something sharper beneath it. “Not anymore.”

Rangi glanced at him. “No shit.”

“I’m not referring to Crucible.”

That pulled Rangi’s attention fully.

Alexios met his gaze, holding it—steady, deliberate.

“This,” he said, quieter now. “Us.”

A beat.

Then—

“We need to define it.”

Rangi huffed a short breath, but there was no argument in it. No deflection. “Yeah,” he said. “We do.”

They had made the first move toward what they wanted, and they had finally had Keanu within their grasp. And they weren’t letting go.

Chapter Twelve

Rangi didn’t remember much of the drive back to the compound.

His mind was very much on other things. Well, two other people to be exact. Alexios sat quietly beside him as he drove with intent right on the tail of Keanu’s GT-R.

As soon as they were both stopped outside the garage, they all ignored the fact that the rest of Black Tide were in the command center, and they made their way to where the bus was parked by silent and mutual agreement.

Footsteps followed him. He didn’t turn. He didn’t need to. He knew the rhythm of them now.

Keanu first—quieter, measured.

Alexios behind—controlled, deliberate, always aware of everything.

Rangi reached the bus and stepped inside, the space opening around him—soft lighting, warm wood, the low hum of systems running quietly in the background. It should have felt like a sanctuary.

Instead, it felt charged.

He turned then and there they were. Framed in the doorway. And for a second—just a second—no one spoke.

Rangi exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through his hair.

“Well,” he said, voice rougher than he intended. “That was a hell of a plan.”