We ran past the shifted sewer grate cover, and I snatched the crowbar off the ground. Rogan started toward a door to one of the surrounding buildings. “They’re all locked,” I told him. My ankle cried in pain with every step I took. My hand was sweating, but Rogan clutched it tightly in his as if he didn’t want to let go of me. “All of them?” “I don’t know. I—I thought I checked them all when I was looking for you!” Because of my twisted ankle, I wasn’t running as quickly as I could, and the other team was gaining on us. Fast. Their heavy boots slapped against the pavement as they ran. Rogan glanced over his shoulder. “I’ll hold them off. You hide.” “Bad plan.” “Why’s that?” “The ninety-foot rule? You go too far away and our heads will explode, remember?” He swore under his breath, his expression tense. “You’re right.” “And besides, I’d rather not stand by and watch them beat the shit out of you.” He raised an eyebrow at me. “I could hold my own for a while.”
