Chapter 21 · Switch Twenty-Two

"I know that voice." Marco's hand flattened against my sternum, shoving me back into the steel shelving so fast the frost cracked off in flakes.

"Get behind me."

"Marco—" "Behind me, Lila." The speaker up on the catwalk crackled again, that same dry laugh riding static.

"Look at you. Still playing house husband with the widow's die." A pause, long enough for my teeth to start chattering.

"You always did like locking yourself in rooms you couldn't get out of, Bell." Marco's jaw went tight enough that I heard it. Not fear. Recognition. Worse.

"Who is that," I said. My voice came out smaller than I wanted, fogging white between us.

"Nobody you need," Marco said, not looking at me, eyes locked on the black shape sliding along the iron rail above the racks.

"Panel. Now." We hit the control face together, his palm slamming the twenty-two switch so hard the plastic guard split. Nothing. No click, no green light, no hum of the compressor easing off. The display just kept ticking, red numbers dropping through nineteen fifty-eight, nineteen fifty-seven.

"It's not answering," I said, hitting it again myself, knuckles white.

"Marco, it's not—" "I know.