Chapter 21 · The Puppet's Grin

"Move your ass or we're both vapor!" Sloane's voice screamed in my ear, her hand gripping the back of my jacket and hauling me backward just as the floor beneath us groaned.

BOOM.

A shockwave ripped through the corridor, slamming us both against the reinforced plating of the wall. My lungs felt like they'd been flattened by a steamroller. I coughed, tasting copper and ozone, while the alarms of the facility wailed in a rhythmic, soul-crushing screech.

"Data's still uploading," I gasped, glancing at the wrist-mounted drive. The progress bar was crawling—62%—and the terminal we'd just scavenged was currently being engulfed by a creeping wall of white-hot plasma.

Sloane didn't look at the fire. She looked at me. Her eyes were cold, but there was a flicker of something else—something that didn't look like she was planning to hand me over to the Spires the second this was over.

"Leave it," she snapped, her hand sliding from my jacket to my forearm, her grip tight enough to bruise. "The sector's collapsing. We go now, or we die here."

"I can't leave it!" I shoved her hand off and lunged back toward the terminal.