"On my count," Zubair said, palm on the rope, shoulder braced to the frame. "One."
The door jumped in his hand.
Not shut.
Out.
A gust shoved a pocket of pressure through the gap like a fist. The hinge screamed. The rope went hard as a wire and kicked.
"Hold!" he snapped.
The first anchor groaned. Not loud. Enough. Metal shifted under the bolt with a sound like a coin being dragged across teeth. The carabiner gate bounced and didn't seat.
"Gate," he bit out.
"I've got it," Elias said, already there, thumb jamming the sleeve down, wrist rolling the screw home. The line still vibrated under his glove.
The gust hit again. The door took it and tried to give it back. Sera's glove slid on the edge of the seal; frost scraped; leather creaked.
Alexei stepped in and took weight against the slab, shoulder to steel, jaw set. "Got you," he told the door, or her, or both.
"Weight off the line," Zubair said.
