They moved back one body at a time in reverse order: anchor held, door controlled, slack pared. The pulse under the sheet came again, farther now, then again, farther still. The frost on the pane stopped growing and began to soften.
Inside the hall, the wind lost its teeth. Elias still felt the hum in the plates he carried under his arm. It sat there like something unfinished.
Back in the living room, they didn't know where to put their hands for a moment. Then the old order reasserted itself. Gear to hooks. Ropes coiled. Elias set the cup on the counter and hated that his hands were shaking just enough to show it.
Zubair looked at him. "Numbers."
