Chapter 8 · Cold Barrel

"Move, Evelyn! The ceiling is coming down!"

Nolan grabbed the back of my coat and yanked me out of the bunker control room just as the first slab of concrete smashed through the place where I had been standing.

My shoulder hit the service-tunnel wall. Dust punched into my mouth. The gun in my hand flew loose, skidded across the floor, and stopped inches from the drop into the maintenance shaft.

"My gun."

"Forget it."

"Go to hell."

I shoved away from him and lunged for the weapon.

Nolan caught my wrist before my fingers closed around the grip. His palm locked around me, hot and hard. The neural contract snapped tight between us. Pain flashed up my arm and drove straight into my chest.

He flinched too.

"You feel that?" he asked.

"I feel your hand. Let go."

"If you step toward that shaft, the floor drops with you."

"Then pull me back instead of giving me a lecture."

His jaw tightened. Behind him, another section of the bunker screamed and folded. Red emergency lights blinked through the dust.