Chapter 11 · Two Microphones

"Answer me." Jae's palm stayed flat on the wall beside my head, close enough that I could smell cold coffee on his collar, close enough that the heat off his arm bled through my sleeve. "Yes or no. If it comes back to you, do you walk?"

"You want yes-or-no from a woman you just let get filmed on her knees?" I kept my chin level, even with the tile cold against my spine, my heartbeat loud enough I was sure he could hear it too. "Try again, sir."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only one you're getting until you tell me who else had vault access besides you and Grant Whitfield."

His jaw ticked. His arm didn't move. Neither did mine. We stood there like two people daring the other to blink first, and for a second the corridor felt smaller than it had any right to be.

Then a voice came down the service hall like it already owned the floor. "Well. This looks cozy.