Page 281 of Scarlet Wars
“Quit whining.” I flexed my arm, trying to work feeling back into it.
He scowled. “What now?”
“Now,” I said, as I curled my fingers around the chain above my other wrist, my thumb useless at my side. “I do this.” Pain tore through my upper arm as I jerked upward. It burned so intensely I thought it might rip free from the socket. Metal groaned beneath the pressure.
“You’re not seriously trying to?—”
Snap.
The bolt at the top of the chain cracked loose from the ceiling. The sudden drop yanked my body down, and I hit the ground hard, rolling through the impact. My palm slapped against cold stone as I pushed to my feet, all my limbs throbbing from the fall.
I grabbed my broken thumb with my good hand and wrenched it back into place. The crack was painful enough to white out my vision. Then, I shook out my arm, rolling my shoulder back into place with a dry crack, as my attention slid toward James.
“Your turn.”
James’s eyes darkened for a second, before he flexed his arm, tested the give in the chain, and bared his teeth. Tension rippled through his upper body as he strained against it.
Snap.
The bolt ripped from the ceiling. James dropped fast, twisting mid-air before landing in a controlled crouch. He pushed to his feet, straightening faster than I’d anticipated.
I jumped to my own, flexing my hands to shake out the burning in my muscles, and strode toward the heavy steel door at the edge of the room.
James was right behind me, before he ran his hand along the frame, his eyes narrowing at the reinforced material. No handle. No visible lock.
“Looks like they weren’t planning on letting us out.” I slammed my palm against the barrier. It didn’t so much as tremble beneath the force.
“Fantastic.” James crouched down, pressing his ear to the surface. His fingertips traced the thin ridge where the door met the wall.
I watched, arms crossed. “You have a plan, or are you just cuddling the door for emotional support?”
James didn’t answer. His expression turned to pure focus as he followed the seam to the edge. His hand flattened against the surface, lingering near the base of it.
I frowned. “What are you doing?”
He stepped back, studying the door like it was some kind of puzzle. “It’s not locked from the outside. It’s locked from within the paneling.”
My eyebrows shot up. “And how the hell do you know that?”
James cocked his head before he spoke. “I just do.”
He crouched again, then pulled a thin sliver of steel from his boot, and slid it into the narrow gap. A faint click followed as he worked the tool through the mechanism.
My jaw dropped in shock. “You learned this…how exactly?”
“Locks are all about design,” he replied with a small shrug. “Pressure points. Load balance.”
“And how many of these pressure points have you ‘balanced’ before?”
“Enough.” He twisted the metal, his brow furrowing. A loud snap echoed through the room, and the door creaked open a fraction of an inch.
I blinked, more than a bit stunned at this turn of events.
James stood and pushed the door wide open.
“Okay, how the hell did you know how to do that?”
He turned toward me with a shrug. “I like architecture.”
