Chapter 30 · Whoever Set That Clock Isn't In This Room

Dean's teeth are still locked in my throat when the lights come back on.

Not the emergency red. White. Full panel white, humming like it never died at all, and I feel his jaw go rigid against my skin a half-second before he pulls off me.

Blood's running warm down into my collar. His. Mine. I can't tell anymore and I don't care, because the second his mouth leaves my gland the whole bunker exhales — vents kick, board fans spin up, the console behind him lights row by row like a slot machine paying out.

"That's not the backup circuit," Dean says. His voice is wrecked, low, still half a growl. "I killed that circuit myself."

"I know what you killed." I press two fingers to the bite mark on my neck and it's already swelling, already his. "This isn't us."

We both look at the console at the same time.

A countdown. Fresh. Green digits climbing down from four minutes like it just started, like it's been waiting for the room to be quiet enough to matter.

"I didn't set that," I say.

"I know you didn't." Dean's already moving, shoulder into me on the way past, not gentle, not asking permission — just a body clearing a body.