Chapter 11 · Nail Picks a Side

The vault screen flickered. Cole's hand was already on his sidearm.

"Don't," Nail said from the doorway.

Cole didn't turn. He kept his eyes on the cracked display showing the file index—eighty-three loops, eighty-three death logs, and one new entry blinking at the bottom. Loop Eighty-Four. Active.

"You weren't supposed to be here," Cole said.

Nail stepped into the server room. His boots crunched over broken glass. The air smelled like burnt plastic and old blood. "Yeah, well. I got curious when you started talking about loops like a guy who's lived the same week a hundred times."

Cole's grip tightened on the gun. He still hadn't pulled it. "How long you been listening?"

"Long enough." Nail stopped three meters out. His rifle hung loose on its sling, barrel down. Non-threatening. But his hand was close. "Long enough to hear you tell Ivy she's died eighty-two times. Long enough to hear you say I die on day six at oh-four-hundred, bullet through the neck, can't stop the bleed."

Cole finally looked at him. Nail's face was calm. Too calm.