“I wanted something I could give Crescent. I’m drawing for her.”
Okay, that was admittedly sweet.
I might have to up my game on what I was giving Crescent, because Karma was an amazing artist. Our cell was testament tothat. Every once in a while one, of the packs would trade him something high value for Karma to paint a mural for them—but only the dweller packs could afford a luxury like art, so it didn’t happen often.
He didn’t give any more details as we walked, weaving through the side hallways that connected the wings. I felt his tension in the bond; in the crackling electricity of his aura in the air.
The sooner we got the key back to our cell, the better.
I drew to a stop in front of a rusty metal door. Its worn sign said ‘BOILER ROOM,’ but it hadn’t been that in a long time. This would have been a boiler room from a time before Anarchy was this big, before it took up the entire floor beneath the Cimmerian Vaults.
It had a different meaning to me, though.
Nightmare, and beginning.
Glancing both ways down the hall, I confirmed it was only me and Karma. Then I turned the rusted doorknob and let the door screech open.
“It would’ve been so much easier if you’d kept this thing in our fucking cell,” Karma muttered.
I didn’t grace that with a response.
He waited outside the door while I slipped into the room.
All the equipment was still in here, stripped bare of anything useful to prisoners. There were large pipes attached to the walls, ceiling, and floor, rusted and scratched. Dented and bent in places.
In the far corner, I crouched down to undo one of the connections and remove a stretch of pipe. Then I grabbed a piece of rebar from the floor and shoved it down until it reached a corner section, waiting for the clinking of the key against it.
My heart raced as the rebar only clanked against the pipe, its tone completely different than the high-pitched clink of keys.
I readjusted my grip, breathing heavily as my chest tightened.
No, they couldn’t be?—
The rebar clinked against something.
I didn’t dare to relax until I’d worked the keyring back up the section of piping and fished it out with my fingers.
The key was bronze and triangular with a little metal ring attached. The teeth of it were worn-down and rounded, but it would still open the lock it was meant for with a bit of wiggling.
I put it in my pocket and set everything right before heading back out to Karma.
Now all we had to do was figure out how to prove to Dominic that I had the key without actually giving it to him.
And there was only one way I could see to do that:
Steal from the heavily-guarded contraband room.
19
KARMA
The room smelled like Crescent’s sweet slick when we got back.
And so did Vandle.
Bastards.
What had he done with her?
