“Comeon,” I growl at the panel, wedging the scissors back in. “Open, you piece of?—”
For a horrible moment nothing happens and I think I’m wrong, there’s no panel here, I’m just scratching uselessly at a wall while men die outside. While Leo dies. While my father?—
The panel pops open with a small click that sounds impossibly loud in the quiet room.
Behind it is a mess of wiring and circuitry that looks like the inside of a computer exploded. There’s also a small screen with text that I have to squint to read in the dim interior light.
EMERGENCY OVERRIDE PROTOCOL
Manual release requires sequential input of backup codes OR mechanical release of primary locking mechanism. WARNING: Mechanical release will trigger alarm system and alert all security personnel.
I actually laugh, though it comes out slightly hysterical. Alert security personnel. Like they’re not all currently trying to kill each other in the house around me.
Below the text is a diagram. It shows the locking mechanism—a series of bolts that slide into place when the door is locked. And there, marked in red, is a manual release. A lever I can pull if I can just reach it.
The problem is the lever is inside the wall, behind more paneling and what looks like approximately seven thousand wires that are probably important for something.
I stare at the diagram, trying to memorize it. The lever is…there. Behind the blue wires. Or are those green? The lighting in this panel is terrible.
It doesn’t matter. I just need to move the wires out of the way, pull the lever, and get the hell out of here.
Simple.
Except I’m probably about to electrocute myself and I’ll never get it, and what if that means Leo is losing, what if that means?—
Focus, Emma. One thing at a time.
I grab the scissors again and start prying at the wires, trying to expose more of the mechanism. It takes three tries to get the scissors positioned right because of the dampness of my hands.
A wire comes loose and sparks fly. I jerk my hand back with a yelp and the scissors clatter to the floor. My fingers are just slightly burned, but it feels like I’ve touched a hot stove. The smell of singed skin mingles in the air, making me gag slightly.
I grab the scissors again, ignoring the burn. I ignore everything except the need to get this door open.
Another wire. This one doesn’t spark but it’s tough, coated in thick rubber that resists the scissors. I have to saw at it, my arm muscles burning with the effort.
It finally gives way and I nearly punch myself in the face with the momentum.
More wires. Some come loose easily. Others fight me. My fingers are getting cut on sharp edges of metal housing, blood making everything slippery. I wipe my hands on my leggings and keep going.
I can see more of the mechanism now. The diagram wasn’t lying—there’s definitely a lever in there. It’s red and seemingly mocking me from behind a tangle of wiring I haven’t cleared yet.
“Almost there,” I mutter to myself. “Come on, Emma, you can do this. You’ve taken apart harder things than this.”
I haven’t. I’ve never taken apart a security system in my life. But lying to myself seems to be helping so I keep doing it.
Another wire. Then another. My arm is cramping from the awkward angle, my burned fingers protesting every movement. There’s blood on the wires now, on the panel, and seeping on the scissors. I don’t care.
There.There.I can see the lever clearly now behind the last layer of wiring.
I reach in, my hand barely fitting through the gap I’ve created. The edges of the housing scrape against my arm, sharp enough that I feel skin tear. Warm blood trickles down to my elbow, but I don’t pull back.
My fingers brush the lever. So close. Just a little further?—
My fingertips touch it, but I can’t get a grip. The angle is wrong. I push my arm deeper into the gap, feeling more scraping and tearing, my shoulder pressed against the wall now.
“Come on, comeon,” I mutter, hand searching for the stupid fucking lever.
My fingers close around the lever and I nearly sag with relief.