Chapter 10 · One Hinge Left

"Ten minutes, Knox." The voice on the radio isn't Rhea's crew, isn't mine either. It's smooth. Bored. The voice of a man who's spent his whole life giving orders and never once had to raise his tone to get them followed. "Then I walk down there and hand them the code myself. Your choice how many pieces you're in when I do."

Knox doesn't move. His hand's still flat over the keypad, fingers spread wide like a palm can hide six digits from someone who already knows them. But his jaw's locked and his eyes have stopped tracking me. First time since the sprinklers dropped that he's looked at anything besides my face.

"Who is that," I say.

"Nobody."

"That's not nobody. That's a countdown." I step in close, close enough that the wet Kevlar on his chest brushes my knuckles when I close my hand around his wrist. His pulse is hammering. "Ten minutes for what."

He looks down at where I'm holding him like he forgot a body could do that to another body. "My father," he says. "That's my father."

"Your father's standing outside a sealed vault giving his own son a deadline.