Chapter 15 · Whoever's Hand Is on the Switch

The door doesn't slam. That's the part that gets under my skin. It just clicks, soft as a held breath, and the counting room seals itself off behind us like it was never open.

"Don't move," Marco says, and his arm comes across me, flat against my collarbone, before I've even turned around.

"Don't touch me." I shove his forearm down. It doesn't budge an inch, which tells me everything about how much muscle is under that coat and how little he cares what I want right now.

"There's someone in this building who isn't us," he says, low, close enough that his breath moves the hair at my temple.

"And they just closed a door with their hand on a switch I don't have anymore. So no. You don't get to flounce off to go check your ledgers."

"My ledgers are the only reason there's still an ice house standing." I twist out from under his arm and go straight for the panel. Switch fourteen is still red. Dead red, same shade as the countdown box downstairs, like whoever built this place wanted every failure to match.