Chapter 21 · Cold Cuts

"Don't touch the door." Kane caught my wrist before my fingers reached the manual release.

His grip locked around the bloody bandage wrapped over my pulse. Heat shot up my arm. The neural link answered with a sharp white spike behind my eyes.

"Then open it," I snapped. "Or move. Pick one."

"You can't stand."

"I can stand long enough to shove you through it."

The blast door bucked under another hit. Metal screamed. Dust shook loose from the ceiling and peppered my hair. Somewhere behind the door, something huge dragged a blade across the frame.

Kane looked at the door, then at me. His face stayed cold, but his thumb pressed harder against my wrist.

"Your heart rate is climbing."

"Your bedside manner still sucks."

"Vera."

"What?"

"If the core spikes again, it will cook your motor cortex."

I yanked at his hand. He didn't let go.

"You said that three rooms ago."

"And you ignored me three rooms ago."

"Because three rooms ago you were trying to rip the military core out of my spine."

"I was trying to save your life."

"With a pair of extraction clamps."

"You were trying to kill me."

"I changed my mind."