Page 75 of Cold Ignition

Rangi shook his head. “Yeah. That.”

But his focus didn’t slip. He couldn’t allow it to because now—the circuit was coming into view.

It spread out ahead of them in broken light and shadow, engines revving in uneven bursts, people moving in loose clusters that didn’t feel loose at all once you looked properly.

Cars weren’t just parked—they were placed.

People weren’t just moving—they were directed.

And the drivers—the drivers were being watched.

“Jesus,” he muttered.

“They are selecting already,” Alexios said.

Rangi followed his gaze, and his jaw tightened.

“Yeah,” he said. “I see it.”

A beat.

Then Keanu’s voice came through, low and steady. “We’re not late to the party, at least.”

Rangi’s mouth curved slightly.

“To be fair,” Rangi replied. “It’s really not a party until we turn up.”

This was a system built to break people down and rebuild them into something useful or disposable.

Ahead of them, Keanu rolled into position. And just like that—everything shifted. It wasn’t subtle. It wasn’t gradual. It locked.

Ahi.

Rangi felt it ripple through the space even from here—the way attention snapped toward him, the way people adjusted, recalculated.

“Eyes are on him,” Victor confirmed.

“No shit,” Rangi muttered.

Alexios didn’t move. Didn’t speak. But Rangi could feel the shift in him—the way his attention narrowed, the way his entire body aligned toward one thing.

Keanu. Always Keanu.

“Rangi.” Keanu’s voice again.

“Yeah.”

“You see the pull?”

Rangi didn’t need to look again.

“Yeah,” he said, voice rough now. “Far side. They’ve tagged him.”

The kid was already moving. Not willingly. But not fighting either. Because people like that—they didn’t give you something to fight.

They just ... took you.

Alexios spoke, quieter now. “They are accelerating selection.”