Human error.
Manufactured.
“Can you climb?” I ask.
She hesitates—then nods. “I can try.”
“That’s enough.”
We reach the base of the ravine and start up the opposite side, hands slick with mud, muscles burning. Halfway up, I divert—cutting sideways along a narrow ledge that disappears behind a stand of firs.
We crouch there, breath ragged.
Listening.
Nothing yet.
But I know Ronan.
I know the way Lena’s mind works when a map suddenly gains color.
They see this place now.
And they’ll know exactly what I’m doing.
Marin leans close, voice barely a breath. “You’re not running.”
“No,” I say. “I’m buying time.”
“For what?”
I look through the trees at a world that looks deceptively calm.
“For Malenkov to believe he’s still in control.”
Because the worst thing I can do right now—
Is disappear.
I straighten, shoulders squaring despite the tremor running through me.
Somewhere out there, Ronan Pierce is watching a white line turn into daylight.
Somewhere else, Malenkov is staring at a sealed door and wondering how the dark slipped through his fingers.
And here I am.
Above ground.
Exposed.
Free enough to move, for the first time in too long.
Dangerous enough to matter.
I take one more breath of cold forest air.
Then I step forward.
