I waited until they started shouting coordinates to one another again.

With a hard, silent lever of my weight, I popped the second screw.

The grate was loose now.

I could slide it aside just enough to slip through.

I squeezed my shoulders through the narrow opening, my jacket catching on a sharp piece of iron.

I pulled myself free, dropping silently onto the cold concrete floor behind the utility rack.

The guards were ten feet away, their attention entirely focused on the vault door.

I raised my weapon, aiming at the man holding the detonator.

My finger tightened on the trigger.

Before I could fire, a sharp metallic click sounded directly behind my ear.

The cold barrel of a pistol pressed firmly into the nape of my neck.

“Don’t make a sound, Adrian,” a voice whispered.

I recognized the low, steady rasp immediately.

It was Daniel.

I slowly lowered my weapon, though my fingers remained tight around the cold grip.

“You were supposed to be guarding the sub-level entrance,” I breathed.

The cold metal of his barrel eased away from my neck.