He tipped the contents onto his lap.
A piece of paper, a handwritten note.
A collection of maps stapled together.
A key.
Noah studied the items for a few minutes, holding a tea light to them so he could read.
“It’s for a yacht.”
Zeke snatched the paper from Noah. The note, in large, scrawly handwriting, was written in a foreign language—Dutch?
“These are instructions on how to find it, and this is a basic instruction manual.”
“Where is it?” Zeke felt strange, like he was floating above them, looking down at two people lost at sea, about to be washed away on separate waves. “Is he suggesting you… run away… on a boat?” A small, hollow laugh escaped his lips. The idea was ludicrous.
“Only if things get bad. If London falls.” Noah stilled. “Is it such a ridiculous idea?”
“It’s December, and freezing fucking cold. Where would you even go? Does it even still work? Have you even ever driven a boat before? And what, you’re just going to pack up and leave us all?”
Noah blinked at him, his voice icy when he said, “I presumed I wouldn’t be alone on the boat.”
Numbness—partly from the cold, but mostly from Noah’s reaction—seeped through Zeke’s body.
“Noah… I…” Zeke stared at him. “I can’t just leave Zaya.” The thought split his heart in two. As did the thought of Noah sailing off on some boat to a desert island or wherever the fuck he wanted to go.
Noah opened his mouth to reply, but loud shouts from above their heads caught their attention. Perhaps the crypt wasn’t as soundproof as they’d thought.Oops.
Then, Noah’s wristband vibrated with an incoming call from Vitt.
Noah stared up at the dark ceiling, eyes wide, lips pressed into a hard line. “That sounds like Habib.”
thirty-one
Noah
Withinseconds,Noahhadblown out the candles and dragged Zeke up the stairs two at a time to reach the main hallway. He was almost glad of the distraction. Zeke’s rejection was an icicle shard to the heart, even if the rational part of his brain understood his unwillingness to leave Zaya.
A flash of worry shot through him as they exited the crypt door together, but he needn’t have panicked. Most of the platoon were gathered in a circle around their spectacle: Habib versus David Reeves, one of Tobias’s most loyal followers. Whatever this was, it wouldn’t be good.
Habib, cheeks flushed, a vein bulging on his neck, stepped towards the smaller man. “Are you calling me a liar, Reeves?”
The silent crowd glanced between them, but Noah sought out Tobias. He stood on the periphery, a faintly amused expression plastered on his infuriating face.
“You’re either a liar or hallucinating.” Reeves further closed the space between them, glowering.
“Where’s Lowenna?” Noah snapped, at nobody in particular.
“She went to get something from the van.”
Of course she had.
Noah stepped into the circle, with Tobias mimicking his movement like a mirror. “What’s going on? This isn’t the time for petty playground fights.”
“That scumbag,” said Habib, waving a finger at Reeves, “stole two extra protein bars from the box.”
“Didn’t happen,” Reeves spat. “I was just moving the box out of the way.”
