Sloan.

Sloan had the Chaos Eater.

Her vision doubled again, and for a flickering instant the Malchai was there, hovering in front of her on the strip, his sallow skin stretched over dark bones, and his red eyes looking right at her, through her—but Kate forced herself to her feet as he dissolved, replaced by cold gray eyes and short silver hair.

Soro.

Kate staggered back, or tried to, but the Sunai caught her by the collar.

“What happened just now?”

Kate’s head was still spinning, but she managed to find a truth. “Your soldiers jumped me.”

Soro wasn’t having it. Their grip tightened, hauling Kate closer. “I saw you go down. What happened?”

Kate fought the pull of Soro’s question, but the truth slid between clenched teeth. “The Chaos Eater,” she said. “Sloan has it.”

The Sunai’s expression darkened. “How do you know?”

The words spilled out. “I saw it.”

Soro’s other hand grabbed Kate’s hair and forced her head up. Her bangs fell to the side, revealing the silver in her eyes.

Soro hissed.

“It’s not what you think,” said Kate, but Soro wasn’t listening. Their grip vanished from her hair, and she tried to twist free, but the Sunai still had a hand on her collar, and it was stone.

They tapped their comm. “This is Omega calling Flynn.”

“Listen to me—” started Kate.

“Be quiet.”

“Sloan has the Chaos—”

Soro’s fist slammed into Kate’s ribs. She doubled over, gasping for air, as red light flickered across her skin. One knee buckled beneath her, and before she could get up again, a strip of cloth was cinched tight over her eyes, plunging everything into black.

Alice rose to her feet, spitting blood on the floor.

“They taste off,” she said with a grimace, but it hadn’t stopped her from slaughtering the remaining Fangs, staining her clothes and limbs red.

Sloan drew on a pair of gloves.

Death was fresh on the air, the corpses still warm, but already the shadow in the cage was losing its substance. Soon it would be smoke again, thin enough to slip through the gap in the gold curtain, and Sloan couldn’t let that happen.

He reached out and took hold of the shroud.

Even through the gloves, the gold burned—his skin began to blister and his blood to began to boil as he drew the sheet tight over the monster’s cage.

He pulled back, hands singed.

Alice glanced at the cage, then looked pointedly away, and Sloan realized with a measure of delight that she was frightened.

She turned to go, but he caught her by the shoulder, and he twisted her back toward the cage. “What do you think of my new pet?”

“I think,” she said, “you should have killed it.”

His nails dug in. “Are we ready for tonight?”

Alice wrenched free of his grip. “You stay here and play with your new pet,” she sneered. “Leave tonight to me.”

August got back to the Compound just after dark.

There was an energy to the building that night—there was always an energy, with so many people—but the usual rhythm had shifted, fallen out of sync, and for once, the feeling hadn’t followed him in—it was already there. In the whispers, he heard Kate’s name.

He went straight to the command center in search of her, but as soon as he stepped out of the elevator, he knew something was wrong.

Emily was waiting for him. “August.”

And when he asked about Kate, a shadow crossed Em’s face. “What is it?”

“Come with me.”

“What happened?”

“There’s been an incident.”

His mind flashed across a dozen possible scenarios but instead of dwelling on any of them, he turned and marched toward the surveillance room.

“August,” said Em on his heels. “She was infected.”

And he almost said I know, but caught himself.

“Ilsa,” he called. “Show me where Kate is.”

But his sister was already waiting, knees drawn up before the wall of screens. She shot him a look but he didn’t stop to read it, looking straight past her at the screens—eleven of the twelve were cycling, but there, in the center of the grid, a single camera held its shot.

The first thing he saw, the only thing he saw, was Kate.

Kate, on her knees in the center of the cell, hands cuffed to the floor and a swatch of black over her eyes. Just like the soldier.

Ilsa’s fingers tightened on his sleeve in a wordless apology.

“What happened?” he asked, when what he really meant was how did they find out?

Ilsa tapped the keys, and Henry and Soro appeared on a second screen—the viewing chamber.

Another tap and sound streamed into the room.

“. . . wasting time,” Kate was saying. “I told you, Sloan has the Chaos Eater.”

August’s heart lurched, but no one else seemed to react to the news. Soro stood silent, arms crossed, while Henry paced.

“And you know this,” he said, “because you saw it.” August thought he heard a hitch in the man’s breath, but it might have been static. “And you saw it, because you have been infected.”

Kate was shaking her head. “I’m still in control.”