Chapter 27 · Third Pulse

"Say the name, Captain." The speaker sounded bored, like it had all night to spend on us. "Or I put your throat on the yard feed at six."

The cuff bit into my wrist every time I breathed. Milo's pulse ticked against mine through the metal, both of us pinned wrong-side-up against the scrubber grate, his knee wedged between mine, his palm flat over the back of my hand like he'd filed a claim on it.

"Nobody's saying a name," I said.

"Ten minutes." Milo's mouth was right against my ear, breath hot enough to fog the collar of my jacket. "That's your lie's shelf life. Told you already."

"You got a better plan?"

"Yeah." His hips shifted, grinding a bruise into my hip bone that I'd feel for a week. "Stop lying to a man who can smell you doing it."

The cuff's LED blinked faster. 141. 143. Neither of us dropped.

I twisted my free hand toward my belt, toward the badge panel clipped there, and Milo's grip tightened like a trap snapping shut — bone against bone, zero give.

"Don't," he said.

"I'm not calling anyone. I'm killing the loudspeaker feed.