The steel door crashes open like a thunderclap, flooding the small room with harsh fluorescent light from the corridor. Tink shrieks, a sound so raw it scrapes along my nerves, and scuttles deeper into her corner. I pivot, instinctively placing my body between her and the doorway, my arm still dripping blood onto the concrete. The intruder fills the frame—tall, hard-edged, with a gun extended in a perfect two-handed grip. His face is all angles and shadows, a five o'clock shadow darkening ...