Page 83 of Rogue Mission

But there’s nowhere to go. The door we came through is the only exit, and whoever’s coming is heading straight for it.

My brain kicks into overdrive, scanning the room. My eyes land on the industrial freezer unit in the corner.

It’s massive, probably big enough for both of us if we squeeze.

“There!” I yank Justice toward it, wrenching open the heavy door.

Cold air blasts us as we squeeze inside. Justice pulls the door shut just as footsteps echo into the lab.

“Five seconds,” Ryker says, unnecessarily.

We’re pressed together in the cramped space, my back against the frozen metal wall, Justice’s body shielding mine.

His breath mists in the frigid air, and I can feel the heat of him all over me.

“Brilliant,” he whispers against my ear, and the pride in his voice makes my insides flutter despite the fact that we’re about to freeze to death.

The footsteps stop. A voice barks out. “What the hell?”

Through the tiny frosted window in the freezer door, I can just make out the shape of someone kneeling beside the janitor.

“Hey! Wake up!”

Justice’s hand slides to the small of my back, pulling me even closer. His other hand rests on his weapon.

“If this goes south,” he breathes, so quiet I almost miss it, “you run. Straight to Ryker. You don’t look back.”

I shake my head, my teeth starting to chatter. “Not leaving you.”

His eyes flash with challenge, dark and fierce. “Rosalie?—”

“No.”

The guard outside curses, pulling out a radio. “This is Peterson. I need backup in cold storage. Janitor’s down. Possible intruder.”

Static crackles. Then a response. “Copy. Two minutes out.”

Justice’s expression hardens. We don’t have two minutes. At this temperature, we’ll be hypothermic before backup even arrives.

My fingers are already going numb. I flex them, trying to keep the blood flowing.

Justice notices. He takes my hands in his, rubbing them between his palms. It’s the sweetest gesture and it makes a scratchy lump form in my throat.

“I’m sorry,” he rumbles. “I hate this.”

“This was my idea,” I remind him through chattering teeth.

The guard is pacing now, weapon drawn, checking every corner of the storage room.

We’re trapped, feet away. And running out of time.

Justice’s eyes narrow, his thoughts going inward, and I can practically see him calculating, running through scenarios.

But his expression says, none of them are good.

“Ryker,” he says into the comms, voice tight. “I might have to fight our way out of here. Over.”

“Working on it,” Ryker responds. “We could cut the grid again.”