Chapter 26 · Locked in the Steel Vault

The vault door weighed more than my first car. Garrett spun the wheel like it owed him cash.

"Inside. Move."

I ducked under his arm. He slammed the slab shut behind us. Steel hit steel with a crack like a femur snapping, and four heavy deadbolts shot home.

Pitch black.

Then his penlight clicked. A razor-thin beam sliced the dark—steel uprights, rotting file boxes, an old microfilm cabinet with a handle someone had snapped and glued back crooked.

Cold pennies. Damp paper. Wet canvas and heat. That was him.

Out in the hall, boots hit concrete. Not casual patrol steps. Fast, heavy, spreading out across the perimeter.

"Annex lockdown, all units." The PA had that dead harbor-patrol rasp. "Nobody clears this wing."

I shoved my spine against the steel shelving and forced my lungs to stop heaving. My hand was throbbing. When I looked down, dried red caked the creases of my knuckles from the crawl through the air duct. Nothing broken. Just enough blood to leave prints where I didn't belong.

"They have a red-flag warrant out on me, Garrett. That's not a desk summons. That's a shoot-on-sight hold."

"I know what it is.