Page 50

The humor left me so quickly it hurt. Alina had put a secret photograph into Nora's backpack, taught her to hide it, and now taken her into the center of a war where she knew we’d try to follow. Whatever love motivated her, she’d used children as pieces on the board, and that was un-fucking-forgivable.

“We don't excuse that.” I covered Anika's hand and stopped the ring from turning. “We understand why she ran, but taking Nora? No. Absolutely not. She could have made a dozen different choices, even with her son a hostage.” I pushed that out before Anika could argue. “Using children is never the right answer.”

Her fingers opened beneath mine, then closed tightly, her chest rising and falling in quick bursts. “Thank you.”

The shakiness in her voice made me want to rip the room apart. Instead, I kissed her knuckles. “I need to make copies. We can’t risk this being the only one out there.” A few clicks on the laptop, and a progress bar appeared along the bottom of the screen.

“How long?” Maksim motioned at the door. “We should leave soon.” His tone said we should’ve been gone already but he wasn’t going to say that for fear of hurting Anika. She’d needed to read those letters as soon as she found them, and none of us would’ve dared even think about asking her to wait.

I checked the screen. “Eight minutes if the read rate holds. We take the physical module either way, but a verified duplicate protects us if it gets damaged.” I stacked the books with the ledgers and slid them into the laptop bag. I had to give Roman points for never going anywhere without a laptop. Otherwise, the risk of losing our single copy became a real threat.

Alina might have more, but I was tired of relying on the scraps of information she fed us.

The overhead lights went out, leaving the room pitch black for several seconds before the emergency strips along the floor clicked on. Roman's laptop remained lit on battery power, bleaching every face around it while the copy continued.

Maksim and Roman drew their weapons and bracketed the door. I hit the release, and they both moved forward, only to slam to a stop when the door refused to open. I hit the release again, then braced one foot against the wall and yanked the handle with both hands. Metal struck metal on the other side.

“Barred from outside.” I pressed my ear against the door. No footsteps. No voices. “Sebastian?”

Static answered through my radio.

Maksim tried the estate channel and received the same hiss. “Jammed.”

Anika glanced toward the ceiling. “Wouldn't a hospital generator come on?”

“It did.” Roman pointed at the slim stretches of lighting. The progress bar crawled past forty-three percent. “They know exactly where we are.”

A low mechanical hum shuddered through the wall.

I looked up as the ventilation grille above locker 317 rattled. The system had been quiet since we arrived. Now air forced through hard enough to stir the loose pages in Anika's hands as gray smoke curled from the vent.

“That's not from a fire.” Roman tore the cable from his bag and secured everything inside his jacket without stopping the copy.

Maksim pulled Anika behind him when more smoke poured through, thickening from gray to black and carrying the sharp chemical bite of burning insulation. No alarm sounded, and none of the sprinklers engaged. Whoever controlled the annex wanted the room filled before anyone realized we were trapped.

The smoke dropped toward our faces as I rammed my shoulder against the barred door. It held, and the old frame groaned without giving us an inch. They hadn't come to recover Alina's evidence. They intended to bury it with us.

24

ANIKA

Smoke poured thick and clinging into the room, filling my mouth with the acrid bite of melted electrical cord.

Kirill hit the door again. The metal frame groaned, but whatever barred it from the other side held strong. Maksim dragged the table beneath the vent and climbed onto it, using his jacket to block the smoke. The fabric snapped with the force behind the smoke and he coughed into his shoulder while trying to secure it long enough to buy us some time.

Roman held his arm over his side, locking the computer into place and protecting the drives.

“We should’ve left.” I fought against the panic rising in my throat. “We should have grabbed everything and left.” If I wasn’t so damned sentimental, we wouldn’t be in this situation. But I’d wanted to take a minute–or a few dozen–and read my sister’s words. I’d wanted to try and understand her. Then Kirill found the drive and we’d all been too curious to wait. I pulled my sweater over my nose.

Kirill rammed his shoulder into the door, then stumbled back, coughing. “Minor strategic observation and problem. Too late to go back. Only forward.” He rammed the door again, with the same result.

A crackling sound drifted through the air and lifted the hair on the back of my neck. No. I was not fucking dying in a locked room. I turned a slow circle, forcing my brain to stop thinking about panicking and focus on what I knew. Alina and I had spent an entire summer down here, and we’d discovered every place volunteers weren’t allowed to go within the first week. Well, Alina had. I merely followed her. I was always following her, or doing what she told me to do.

I lunged toward the painted wall and ran my fingers over the crane painted there. “The maintenance passage. There used to be a latch behind the mural.”

Maksim jumped off the table and joined me. “Where does it lead?”

“Service stairs near the laundry. Alina found it once when we were hiding from security.” The memory rushed up, but I tamped it down. I’d feel everything later. Right now, surviving meant focusing. I shoved my fingernails into the seam beneath the crane’s wing. Layers of paint must have sealed it shut. Sweat beaded on my forehead and more slid down my spine. “Kirill, knife.”