Chapter 20 · The Weight Behind the Door

"It's not stuck." Vale said it low, like he didn't want the words to be true. Blood ran off his knuckles where the lever had bitten him, dark against the steel, dripping onto the vault floor. "Somebody's holding it."

I grabbed the flashlight off the shelf and put the beam on the gap. Two inches. That was all the lever had given him. Two inches of black space with cold air bleeding out of it instead of in.

"Push again," I said.

"I am pushing." His forearm shook. The tendons stood up under his skin like rope pulled tight. "Gia, this isn't a jam. A jam gives. This is pushing back."

The air already tasted wrong — thin and metallic, like sucking on a coin. My chest wanted more of it and kept getting less. I put my palm flat on the door, right beside his bleeding hand, and felt it. A vibration. Steady. Someone's weight, braced on the other side.

"Rhys," I said, and my voice cracked on the second syllable.

"Maybe." Vale didn't look at me.