Chapter 22 · No Board Cover

"Eighty-six," Dean said, and his knuckles ground into mine on the manual release like he could stop a countdown with bone alone. "Ellis. Move your hand."

"Not until you tell me whose command that is."

The number over the airlock kept dropping in red, ugly digital light, painting the sweat on his jaw. Reyes's override sat on the panel like a scab we couldn't pick off — captain-level access, punched in from somewhere outside this cage, eating our door bolt one second at a time. Ninety had been a joke. We were past caring about ninety now.

"It's not mine." Dean's forearm was still locked across my chest, pinning me flat against the console edge, his whole weight a wall I couldn't get air past. "It's his. And he's not opening that door to let us out, Ward. He's opening it so the room does the talking for him."

"Then we jam it."

"With what, your teeth?"

I shoved off the counter and he came with me, gravity dragging us both sideways, bone cracking into bone where his hip caught mine against the rack. Neither of us gave the half-inch. That was the deal down here — you didn't yield, you just found a new angle to dig in.