I looked down at the brass key still resting in my hand, its cold metal biting into my skin.

“We only have one key, Nathan,” I whispered, the air in the room already growing noticeably colder.

“Where is the second one?”

Nathan didn’t answer immediately.

He reached down to the floor, his fingers searching the darkness until they found the frame of Claire’s charcoal sketch.

He ran his hand along the back of the wood, his fingers stopping near the corner.

“It’s not a key,” he said, his voice tense.

“It’s a ring.”

He pulled his hand back, and I heard the faint clink of metal.

In the green light of the screen, I saw his wedding band, which he had taken off and taped to the back of the frame the day Claire died.

“She kept the match on her,” Nathan said, his eyes fixed on the safe.

“She knew I would never throw this away.”

Outside, the hissing of the liquid nitrogen grew louder, a thin layer of white frost beginning to form on the inside of the steel door.