Chapter 16 · He Takes the Floor on Faraday Steel

"Bleed it or it bleeds us." Dean's hand closed over mine, forcing my fingers toward the valve wheel, and the diagnostic screen behind him kept flashing a code neither of us could read — B-GAS: PURGE ARMED, red on black, ticking down.

Then the citywide channel cracked open on its own, feedback biting through the bunker speakers, and a voice that wasn't dispatch, wasn't SWAT, wasn't anybody with clearance, came through loud enough to rattle the rack.

"—copy, this is Unit 12, requesting confirmation on Ward, badge 4471. Something's off with him. Ask the commissioner why his hands shake every time the scent alarm goes green. Ask him what he's hiding under that beta card—"

Static ate the rest. I didn't move. Dean did.

He lunged past me for the mic like he was going to fix it, own it, kill it before it spread, and something in me just — snapped. I got a fistful of his collar and drove him backward into the console edge, hard enough that the breaker panel rattled under his spine.

"Don't." My voice came out flat, mean. "You don't get to fix this for me."

"Ellis—"

"You wanted to know what I am so bad, there it is. Somebody already said it on an open channel. Congratulations."

His hands came up —