Kate set down her fork as revulsion rose in her throat. She didn’t want to get inside Sloan’s head, didn’t want to resurrect the specter of her father.

But Henry Flynn was right—if anyone could predict that monster’s motions, it would be her.

She swallowed hard. “If I had to guess,” she said, picking up her fork again, “he wants what all monsters want.”

“And what’s that?”

“More,” said Kate. “More violence. More death.” She pictured the crimson light of the Malchai’s eyes dancing with pleasure, with menace. “Sloan is like the cat that plays with the mouse before eating it, just because it can. Only this time, the mouse is Verity.”

She could feel Flynn’s gaze on her, but she focused on the fork in his hand, the way he nudged the omelet on his plate.

Kate had grown up reading people, the smallest tells in her father’s mouth, her mother’s eyes. She thought of the photos she’d seen of Henry Flynn—the last six months had clearly taken a toll. There was a gauntness to his face, a gray undertone to his pallor, and then there was the shallow way he breathed, as if trying to stave off a coughing fit.

“How long have you been sick?” she asked.

Flynn stilled. He could lie to her, if he wanted to—they both knew that—but in the end he didn’t.

“It’s hard to know. Our medical facilities have never been as strong as those north of the Seam.”

“Have you told—”

“Some things don’t need to be said to be known.” His voice stayed steady, calm. “It won’t change anything. I used to think that if we took back the city in time, perhaps . . . but life doesn’t always honor plans . . .” His attention drifted to the windows, where dawn was starting to sweep across the city. “A man is not a cause, and a cause is not a man. Control is already being shifted to the Council. With any luck, I’ll make—”

He stopped as footsteps sounded in the hall. A moment later Emily Flynn strode into the kitchen dressed in full fatigues. She was as tall as her husband, with short black hair and smooth dark skin, and if she thought it odd that Kate Harker was having breakfast at their kitchen counter, she didn’t say so.

“Something smells wonderful.”

“Emily,” said Henry, a new sweetness infusing his voice.

“I’ve got three hours before my next shift. Are those eggs for me?”

Flynn held out his fork and Emily swept it from his fingers. He wrapped an arm loosely around her as she ate, and Kate’s chest tightened. There was such a simple ease to the gesture, a comfort to the way they moved in and out of each other’s space. Even when her parents had been together, it had never been like this.

“Don’t let me interrupt,” said Emily.

“You’re not,” said Flynn, kissing her shoulder. “Katherine and I—”

“Kate,” she corrected curtly.

“Kate and I were just finishing up.”

Emily gave a brisk nod, her gaze leveled straight at Kate, clearly the kind of woman used to making eye contact. She was glad she’d opted for the bangs.

“August has work to do, so you’ll be confined to the apartment.”

Kate’s muscles twitched. “Is that necessary?”

“Not at all,” she said cheerfully. “If you’d prefer a cell downstairs—”

“Em,” said Flynn. “Kate is proving a very cooperative guest . . .”

“Ilsa can monitor remotely and I’ve already arranged for a soldier to be on comms in case.”

But Kate wasn’t listening. She couldn’t stay here, couldn’t lose another day, not with the Chaos Eater out there, stealing more of her mind with every cycle of the sun.

“I want to train with the FTF.”

The lie came out so easily without August there to stop it. She had no intention of becoming Flynn’s latest foot soldier, but she needed her weapons back, needed a way out of the Compound.

Emily shook her head. “That’s not a good idea.”

“Why not?” challenged Kate.

The woman gave her a long, hard look. “Miss Harker, the FTF don’t harbor kind feelings toward your family. Word is already spreading that you’re here inside the Compound. Some will see your presence as an insult. Others might take it as a challenge. It would be better if you stayed—”

“I can hold my own.”

“That’s not actually what I’m worried about. We try to avoid discord—”

“You mean violence—”

“I mean discord,” said Emily, “in all its forms.”

“With all due respect,” said Kate, “keeping me out of reach will only make it worse. You want to prevent discord? Treat me like I belong, not like I don’t.”

Emily looked to her husband. “She’s persuasive, isn’t she?”

“Is that a yes?” pressed Kate, trying to keep the urgency out of her voice.

Emily took the coffee cup from Flynn’s hand and considered the contents. “You will be placed under the watch of another cadet. If you disobey orders, or cause any trouble, or if I simply change my mind, you will be returned to your confinement.”

Kate’s spirits wavered at the mention of another cadet, but it was a minor hurdle compared to being kept at the top of a tower. “Sounds like a plan,” she said, carrying her plate to the sink.