“What are you doing on this level?” demanded a soldier with a trim beard.

“And in the Council’s chamber,” added a middle-aged soldier with two black braids.

Kate shook her head. “Fifth and Taylor—I know that building, what is that?”

“You really shouldn’t eavesdrop,” said Flynn.

“It’s a depot,” offered the youngest soldier. “Our intel indicates it holds a supply of dry grains.”

But that wasn’t it. “No,” she said, remembering. “It’s a subway stop.”

Flynn straightened a little, wincing as he did. “It was, a while back. Harker built a warehouse over it.”

“And you’re taking your squad in through the front door?” challenged Kate.

Flynn’s jaw tightened. “You think it’s a trap.”

“You assume it’s not?” she countered.

“There’s no evidence—” started the female soldier.

“No, August said there were no signs of trouble. I’m guessing he means Fangs, or Malchai. Something with a pulse.” She looked to Flynn. “You want me to think like Sloan. I can’t. But I can think like my father, and I can tell you, he would never leave supplies unguarded.”

That, at last, made them hesitate.

“What do you suggest?” asked Flynn.

Kate chewed her lip. “August,” she said after a moment, “do you have lights on you?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” she said. “Then go through the subway.”

A muffled curse issued from another comm. Whoever it was, she didn’t blame them. Dark spaces were the Corsai’s territory. Static filled the line for half a minute, followed by a splash, the shuffle of legs wading through shallow water, a few colorful words, and then the muted sound of hands on bars, and August telling the rest of his team to stay back. The whole room seemed to hold its breath at the scrape of the metal cover. And then, static again, broken only by short sharp intake of breath.

“Alpha?” prompted Flynn.

“We’re inside,” said August. “Intel was right: there’s a large supply of grain . . .”

The bearded man shot Kate a withering look.

“But the whole place is rigged to blow.”

Kate felt a momentary swell of triumph, but had the decency not to say I told you so, given the precarious nature of the situation.

“Well,” she said. “Good thing you took the tunnel.”

A new voice came on the comm. “Alpha Squad Tech, Ani, here. I can deactivate it.”

“All right, Alpha Squad,” said Flynn. “Be careful.”

The comm static vanished, replaced by a steady quiet, and Kate realized that the whole room had gone silent, all eyes turned toward her. If they expected her to leave, they were disappointed. She held her ground.

“Is there something else you’d like to say?” asked Flynn.

“I’ve been studying the files on your drive.”

“Who gave you access to that information?” demanded the bearded soldier.

“You’ve been fighting for six months,” she went on, “but it looks like a stalemate, not a battle. You’re not making any sustainable forward progress; you’re just trying to hold your ground.”

“Why the hell are we listening to a teenage girl?”

“Oh, am I just a teenage girl now? I thought I was the daughter of your enemy or the soldier who just saved your squad.” She could feel her temper rising. “Am I dead weight or a danger to your cause or an asset with information? Make up your mind.”

The blind woman gave a short, humorless laugh.

“Miss Harker—” warned Flynn.

“Why haven’t you attacked the tower?”

“We don’t have enough people,” said the female soldier.

Kate scoffed at that. “The FTF has tens of thousands.”

“Less than a thousand,” countered the young man, “are skilled enough to make the Night Squads.”

“If we sent even half,” said the bearded soldier, “the loss we could sustain—”

“—would be worth it,” countered the blind woman.

So this was the problem, thought Kate. The reason for half measures, stalemates, slow deaths. How could they fight Sloan? They were too busy fighting among themselves.

She looked to Henry Flynn, who had said nothing, only listened.

“Why should they risk their lives for North City?” asked the female soldier.

“This isn’t about North and South,” snapped Kate. “It’s about Verity. You’re bleeding soldiers, and Sloan’s letting you, because he can. He doesn’t care how many pieces he sacrifices in this game.”

“War is not a game,” said the bearded soldier.

“Not to you, but it is to him, and you’re never going to end this until you end Sloan, and in order to end Sloan, you have to take risks, you have to think like him, play like him—”

The Council started speaking over her.

“We cannot afford—”

“—A coordinated attack on the tower—”

“—you mean a suicide mission—”

“You cannot win unless you’re willing to fight.” Kate slammed her fist on the table, and heard the sound of metal burying itself in wood.