The darkness was thick, but I could hear their escalating efforts through the vault door. A new sound joined the pry-bar – a distinct, mechanical hiss.
Evelyn was talking, her voice low and steady. “Get it in deeper, Brenda. The frame is already giving.”
That wasn’t just a pry-bar anymore. It was a hydraulic wedge. The kind used by first responders to rip open car wrecks.
A sickening groan came from the door frame. The heavy steel began to warp, groaning like a tortured beast. A sliver of light, a crack, appeared where the door met the frame, widening slowly.
They were getting through.
My hand closed around the grip of the stun baton I kept hidden beneath a false floor panel. It hummed with a low, menacing energy. It was a last resort, but they were giving me no other choice.
“He’s not coming out,” Brenda growled. “We’ll go in and get it.”
The crack widened further. I could see Brenda’s eye, a sliver of furious green, peering through the gap. She met my gaze, a triumphant sneer twisting her lips.
From far below, a faint wail reached me. It was the distinct, rising and falling pitch of a city siren.
Then another. And another.
My blood ran cold. Were those for them? Or for me?
The sound of the hydraulic wedge strained, pushing harder. The metal groaned one last time, a tear-like sound. Then, with a loud POP, the locking mechanism on the vault door finally gave way.
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