“Liam, take two more steps,” Beatrice commanded. “Show me the routing number.”

“I am,” Liam said, his voice slow and deliberate to buy me more time.

“Look at the transit code at the top of the screen,” Liam said.

I slipped the sharp blade of the knife under the plastic tie on Chloe’s wrists.

I pulled upward, using all the strength in my arms.

The plastic snapped with a sharp, low click.

Chloe gasped, immediately rubbing her raw, red wrists.

I worked quickly on the ties around her ankles next.

My hands were shaking, the cold steel of the knife slipping slightly against her boots.

“Hurry,” Chloe whispered, her voice barely a breath of wind.

I cut the final binding.

“Get behind the stage,” I whispered in her ear. “Go through the corridor.”

Chloe did not hesitate; she crawled backward into the dark gap between the charred beams.

I stood up slowly, my legs stiff and heavy.

I was now standing directly behind Beatrice.

The rusted iron pipe I had picked up earlier was still in my right hand.