Whistles still blared, but the most activity was on the floor they’d come from. Both floodlights were trained on that floor, so everywhere else was left in darkness. Prisoners were still shouting, taunting the guards and each other, their voices echoing and causing even more confusion. The prisoners on this floor had gathered at the doors of their cells, shouting for her to free them too, but their voices soon blended in with the din.

“Ryuu, give me the rest of the dynamite. You three head back to where we entered the prison. I’ll make a distraction to lead the guards somewhere else.”

“I’ll stay with you,” Ryuu said as he withdrew another set of dynamite and a pack of matches.

“Sorry, this distraction is a one-woman job.”

She took the explosives and the matches, then waved him toward the stairwell with Raurie and Teo. He looked back once, like he was considering staying with her, but she shook her head and mouthed at him to hurry.

Once they disappeared, she ran down the hall and turned the corner until she was certain she stood exactly two floors underneath the door where they’d first entered the central prison. If she failed at this, at least she wouldn’t have to worry about prison. She’d likely be dead.

Counting in her head the time it would take the others to reach the fourth floor, she tied the pack of dynamite to the railing of the walkway. She struck the match. The flame touched the wire.

Her breath came in quick, shallow intakes as she pulled out the grappling hook from her pack and threw it upward. In her head, she said a quick prayer to the Mothers that it would land, the first prayer she’d thought since her parents’ death.

Maybe the Mothers listened, or maybe all those times she’d thrown knives at people’s throats had really sharpened her aim, since the grappling hook latched itself on to the edge of the walkway two floors above.

Footsteps sounded behind her. She shifted as the light did, leaving her in darkness as an arm wrapped around her throat and the tip of a gun met her back.

She spun out of their grasp, her neck twisting dangerously. Dropping, she rolled out of the way. As she came to her feet, the Diamond Guard she’d knocked out earlier faced her.

At the sight of the bruise on his head where she’d hit him, she smirked. He blew into his whistle to call for backup, the shrill sound making her hair stand up on the back of her neck. Before he could do anything else, she lunged forward, ripped the whistle out of his mouth, and wrapped her arm around his neck to put him to sleep.

But he twisted to escape her hold. Footsteps pounded on the walkways above; guards responding to his whistle. He stepped back to the railing, then raised his gun and aimed at her.

The shot pinged off the bars behind her, making her grit her teeth as she pivoted away. From the corner of her eye, she saw the flame she’d lit under the dynamite draw closer to its mark. Was she imagining it or could she already smell the smoke?