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Seven Games, One Contract

Chapter 30 · Whoever Holds the Line

"Don't touch it again." Torin's hand closed over mine before I could jab the panel a third time, his thumb pressing hard enough into my wrist bone that I felt it in my teeth.

"It's red, Torin. Red means dead. I want to know how dead."

"You keep hitting it, you'll find out faster than either of us wants."

The boiler alarm behind the far wall climbed another half-step, thin and mean, like something with a throat was learning to scream. Two hours had been the number on the wall clock when the notary's pen skipped the witness line. Now the readout above the pump manifold said 1:47:12 and dropping in real time, red digits stuttering like they couldn't decide whether to trust themselves either.

Voss stood by the door with his coat still buttoned, like leaving was still an option he was keeping warm for himself. "This is fixable," he said. "I make one call, we get a fresh notary in here inside the hour—"

"You don't have an hour." Torin didn't look at him.

Not inside. Not yet.

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