The metal was cold against his palms. Cold and rough, the surface pitted with decades of corrosion. Cole pressed his hands flat against the vault door, feeling the resistance, the weight of it. His shoulders burned with the effort, the muscles in his back screaming as he pushed. The door groaned, a low, metallic sound that seemed to vibrate through his entire body.
The vault was old. The kind of vault that had been built in a different era, when security meant thick steel and complex locks rather than electronic surveillance. The air around him was stale, carrying the faint scent of rust and old paper. Dust motes swirled in the dim light, caught in the beam of his flashlight.
He pushed again. The door gave way, swinging inward with a groan that echoed through the chamber beyond. Cole ste
