Page 15 of Cold Ignition

Finally. A worthy opponent. He pushed harder.

The gap between them shrank, the Hellcat responding eagerly as he drove it right to the edge of what the road would allow. The GT-R shifted slightly ahead of the next corner—just enough space to open a line that shouldn’t have existed.

An invitation ... or a challenge. Keanu didn’t hesitate.

The car slid cleanly through the turn, tires gripping just enough as he surged alongside the black machine. For a brief moment, they ran parallel, engines screaming in unison as the canyon blurred around them.

Atua glanced across.

And smiled. Exhilarated.

Keanu felt his own grin answer it, hidden behind the visor. Good.

The road twisted sharply ahead, and both drivers accelerated without hesitation.

Now it was a race.

They pushed deeper into the canyon, speed building with every corner, every shift of the wheel. Keanu matched the GT-R move for move, reading the road, reading the driver, adjusting in real time as the margin for error narrowed to almost nothing.

A straight opened briefly, and they surged side by side again, engines straining against each other as the canyon walls blurred dangerously close.

Atua flicked his headlights once.

A signal.

Keanu answered with a sharp press of the throttle, holding the line.

They hit the crest together.

For a split second, the world disappeared beneath them—weightless, suspended—before gravity snapped them back to the asphalt. The Hellcat landed hard, skidding before Keanu brought it back under control, feeding power through the slide.

The GT-R landed clean. Of course it did.

The next corner came too fast. A hairpin. And chaos.

Cars piled into the turn ahead, metal grinding against rock as one spun across the road, blocking the inside line completely.

Atua cut left, threading through a gap that barely existed.

Keanu went right.

The outer edge dropped into darkness, the canyon falling away into nothing. He took it anyway, riding the very edge of the road as gravel spat into the void beneath him. The car held in a controlled drift that shouldn’t have worked—but did.

They emerged from opposite sides of the wreckage.

Even.

Then Keanu edged ahead. The tunnel swallowed them whole.

Sound amplified, compressed, the roar of engines becoming something almost physical as it bounced off the walls. Keanu held the centerline on instinct alone, trusting the feel of the car more than what little he could see.

Then something shifted.

A flicker ahead that felt wrong. The tunnel spat them back into the open—and straight into an ambush. Barricades. Trucks. Armed men stepping into the road.

Not racers.

Keanu reacted instantly.