Chapter 33 · Neon Bleed

"Hold your breath. Now."

Sloane’s hand slammed against my chest, shoving me back into the narrow gap between the rusted bulkhead and the leaking coolant pipe. The air in the sub-level was thick, smelling of ozone and old grease, but the real problem was the silence. The ventilation fans had died three minutes ago.

"What the hell is—"

"Shut up," she hissed, her face inches from mine. "The security grid just dumped halon gas into the corridor. If you breathe, you're a brick."

I looked past her shoulder. A pale, colorless mist was rolling in like a tide, swallowing the neon-lit hallway. My lungs were already screaming from the neural sync, my nervous system fried from the hack. I tried to inhale, and the sharp, chemical sting hit my throat. I coughed, a ragged sound that echoed too loud in the cramped space.

Sloane didn't hesitate. She grabbed the collar of my jacket and yanked me closer, pressing her body against mine to shield me from the draft. Her chest was heaving, her heartbeat drumming against my ribs.

"Don't you dare pass out on me, Kael," she whispered, her breath hot against my ear.