Chapter 12 · A Call From the Dead

The vault screen went black and Ivy had a knife at Cole's throat before he could blink.

"Talk." Her voice was level. Her hand wasn't. The blade pressed cold against his carotid, and Cole could feel her pulse hammering through the grip. They were crouched behind an overturned supply crate in what used to be Nail's operations room. Smoke still curled from the server rack ten feet away. The whole place smelled like burned plastic and gun oil.

Cole kept his hands where she could see them. "I know how this looks."

"You know how—" Ivy's laugh came out sharp. "Your captain just walked into bullets, said your name, and then showed up on a blacksite server marked Watcher. So yeah, Cole, I'd love to hear how this looks."

Footsteps pounded somewhere in the corridor outside. Enforcement, probably. Or what was left of Nail's squad. Either way they had maybe two minutes before this room became a kill box.

"We need to move," Cole said quietly.

Ivy's jaw tightened. The knife didn't move. "You need to talk. Right now. Or I walk out that door and tell them you're the leak."

She would. Cole knew that look.