Chapter 27 · Who Holds the Clock

Knox caught my wrist before I could reach the last keypad.

"Don't."

His fingers closed hard enough to leave a bruise under my sleeve. My shoulder hit the wet steel beside the vault door, and his body blocked the only two feet of space between me and the panel.

"You trained the person who built this lock," I said. "So tell me how to finish it."

"I said we wait."

"You don't get to say that anymore."

The sprinkler override had already killed the vault lights twice. Every time they came back, the red numbers above the door dropped another minute. Forty-seven hours, twelve minutes. Forty-seven hours, eleven.

The clock was eating us alive, and Knox still had one hand on my wrist like he could slow it by holding me down.

He leaned closer. Cold air spilled from the ceiling vents, but his breath reached my mouth hot and sharp. Leather, smoke, and the bitter trace of the fire-control chemicals clung to him.

"You think the last door is just a code?" he asked.

"I think you know it."

"I know what happens when it opens."

"Then stop hiding behind my evidence tray and talk.