“You attacked an FTF soldier,” said Soro.

“He attacked me,” snapped Kate.

“You told us what this monster does,” said Henry. “That it infects human minds. And you have brought that infection into my house, into my ranks.”

“No,” protested Kate.

“You put this entire Compound in danger—”

“No.”

But Henry’s voice was cold. “Do you even know what it is, this connection between you? Do you know how far it goes? If you can see through this monster’s eyes, what’s to stop it from seeing through yours?”

Kate opened her mouth, but said nothing. August had heard enough. He turned toward the door, but Emily barred his path.

“Did you know?” she asked.

He swallowed. “She wanted to help.”

Emily’s face hardened. “August—”

“She’s our best chance of hunting that thing.”

On the screen, Henry began to cough. Soro took a step toward him, but he waved the Sunai away. “Tell me again,” he said to Kate, “what you saw—”

But he was cut off by a sudden, blaring siren.

The noise tore through August’s head as the wall of screens went dark, and the lights around them flickered, and a second later, all the power in the Compound went out.

Kate’s head snapped up.

Even with one bad ear and the blindfold over her eyes, she knew that something was very wrong.

Alarms crashed through the concrete room, rebounding on every wall. Henry’s voice was there, somewhere underneath all the noise, and so was Soro’s, but the shapes of their words were lost.

And then they were gone, and Kate was alone in the cell, painfully aware that she was still chained to the floor. She bowed her head toward her hands and dragged the blindfold down. No one ordered her to stop. That was the first sign of trouble. The second was that the world beyond the cloth was just as black.

For ten long seconds there was nothing but sirens and darkness, and then, just as suddenly as the alarms started, they switched off, leaving only black space and the ringing in her head.

An emergency power source kicked in, rendering the cell in a bluish half-light.

“Hey,” she called to the plastic insert in the wall, but no one answered.

Kate tried to stay calm as she bowed her head, fingers sliding around to the back of her neck. Along the collar of her uniform, she’d slipped two pins. The first bit of metal came free in her hand and she set to work on the cuffs.

The ground shook, a tremor running through the concrete. The power faltered again, and the pin slipped from her fingers, skidding out of reach. Kate swore viciously and freed the second pin, forcing herself to slow, and her fingers to stay steady.

After a few seconds, the cuffs released, and Kate shot up from the ground, but the cell door was locked. From the outside. There wasn’t even a handle, only a plate drilled into the steel.

She turned, looking for another way out, which was ridiculous considering the room was six slabs of concrete and a strip of shatter-proof plastic. She had no weapons, nothing but a pair of pins and the clothes on her back. Her boots. They had metal in the soles, maybe with enough force she could—

The power guttered a third time, and the lock inside the door clicked off. Kate threw herself against it, the steel falling open before the generators came back up. She was out.

The hall beyond was empty, lit by the same bluish glow, and the ground trembled again beneath her feet, like the faint aftershocks of an earthquake, as Kate surged up the stairs.

There was too much noise.

The sirens echoed through August’s head even after they were shut off, and the command center was a wall of soldiers talking over the buzz of the emergency power and the voices on the comms as reports came in and orders went out.

Someone had attacked the transformers.

The metal towers that routed power to the Compound and the surrounding barracks. The metal towers located south of the FTF’s buildings, far from the Seam. In six months, the Malchai had never ventured that far, hadn’t made a concerted strike—

Until now.

“Squads One through Eight report to the power block,” ordered Phillip.

“Ten through Twelve report to the Seam,” said Marcon.

“Thirteen through Twenty take the UVR strip,” added Shia.

“Twenty-one through Thirty, evacuate the barracks,” instructed Bennet.

August was already moving toward the stairs, already issuing orders to his own squad. They had a plan for this. They had a plan for almost everything. But plans and realities were different things. Plans were crisp, clean—the stuff of paper and drill—and realities, August had learned, were always, always, always messy.

Soro appeared, supporting Henry, who was white as a sheet and still coughing. This time he couldn’t seem to stop. The cough became a retch, and then a spasm, and Henry was fighting for air—and then Emily was there, calling for a medic, and Soro was pulling August away.

“We have work to do, brother.”

And August knew that they were right.

“I’ll be okay,” gasped Henry. “Go.”

So August went, plunging down the stairs with Soro at his side. Leo’s voice was a stream in the back of his head, a smooth and steady current of orders, and August let himself lean into the efficiency of his brother’s thinking. He hit the ground floor and for an instant he thought of going down instead of out, but Kate was safer in a locked room than up here, whether or not she would agree.