Chapter 22 · Half a Code

"Move." Calder's hand closed over my shoulder and shoved me past the shelving, deeper into the wet locker, boots slipping on the rubber mat. "Now, Ira. Not when you feel like it."

Cold came off the steel racks like it had teeth. My lungs already felt like they'd been wrung out, that same tight whistle starting low in my chest, and every breath dragged in salt and mildew instead of air. I could still feel the ghost of his grip from an hour ago — four faint marks under my collarbone where he'd yanked me back from the hatch. Bruise blooming slow, the shape of his hand printed into my skin like a receipt.

"There's a panel back here." I'd seen it the first night, dragged past it half-conscious — steel plate bolted low on the bulkhead, red switch cover, a keypad gone green with corrosion. "Emergency release."

"That's not for you."

"Neither is my own inhaler, and you've still got that in your pocket." I dropped to my knees in front of the panel, breath sawing thinner now, the damp air sitting on my face like a wet towel. "So we're already doing things that aren't for me. Fine.