Hartgrave appeared at her side, adding his surges of magic that would stay under the radar and thus wouldn’t help much. She glanced at her watch: 6:09. Four minutes left.
A soft but unmistakable cry of alarm burst from Hartgrave’s earpiece.
“What?” he said in an urgent undertone. “What is it?”
She was close enough to hear Bernie’s breathless response: “He almost overtook me. I could see him coming in as I jumped out.”
Hartgrave swore. “That’s it—I’m pulling the plug.”
“No! And stop distracting me!”
Hartgrave hit the mute button on his phone. “Daggett, youmustget angry. Do you hear me?Furious.”
But fear outflanked fury. Bernie might die. They all, for that matter, might die. The old reliable in the Inferno practice sessions, thinking of the Organization’s killing spree, now added fuel to the wrong emotion.
In desperation, she tried their other tactic—getting angry at Hartgrave.
This washisridiculous plan, with bare-minimum help. Honestly, even one more person could have made a substantial difference, especially if that person had more staying power than Bernie. By insisting no one else be put in danger, he’d endangered all four of them.
Okay, that was working. She needed to keep doing that.
Jack, the wizard Jack: Surely there was something Hartgrave could have done short of flinging the man into a wooden door. Was his go-to reaction in times of stress always violence?
This hit a bit too close to home. Anxiety seeped through the cracks of her anger.
She looked over her shoulder, afraid she might find the wizard coming to, but he still appeared unconscious. Which, in truth, was also upsetting, bespeaking as it did the likelihood of serious injury. A few months ago, that could have been her.
WhathadHartgrave been thinking that night? Could he have been trying to give her a concussion?
She glanced at him, deeply troubled.
Hartgrave looked at her, apparently misunderstood the source of her apprehension and said, “Don’t worry, he’s not getting free. Kincaid didn’t train him well enough. Doesn’t want the microchip staff to take him on if they all turn on him at once.”
The doubt that lay heavy in her stomach rose into her throat, choking off her reply.Kincaid didn’t train him well enough. Not “I doubt Kincaid trained him well enough.”Didn’t, full stop. Along with the reason why.
She stared at Hartgrave as if she had never seen him properly before. In the shadowed half-light, his angular face looked frightening.
“Daggett,” he murmured. “Are you all right?”
“How do youknowthat? Or which room is Crawford’s, or how to imitate that man’s voice, or—or even exactly where the server is located—how could you know any of that if you weren’t one ofthem?”
He staggered like he’d been struck. But no explanations spilled from his lips.
“You lied to me,” she said. She sounded calm. She had no idea how.
“No!” His whisper was fierce, desperate. “I didn’t tell you everything, but Ineverlied to you!”
“Then you badly misled me,” she hissed, wanting to lift her hands off the barrier and shake him. “‘I’ve had a painful past, don’t ask me about it’—God, I’m such afool.”
“Daggett—”
“How could you join them?What did you do for them?”
But she knew the instant she said the words—knew the quarter-second before he gave himself away by glancing at the server.
He hadn’t just invented a similar tracking system for himself. He’d made the original—made it for them.
“Daggett ... Daggett, I—”
