The realisation hit me with the force of a divine revelation. All my doubts and fears fell away in the reflected gleam from that cap badge, and I had to stifle a laugh. Of course there was a way out of my predicament, and a way I could atone for my mistakes. Of course there was a place where I would be taken in and welcomed, no matter the idiotic things I had done; a place where they could offer me the duties and sense of purpose I’d need to fill the hole left by the loss of my position in Conglomeration Intelligence. The answer had been sitting there in plain sight, and I hadn’t seen it until now. It had taken the glint of the logo on this woman’s hat to make me realise where my future lay, and what I would have to betray in order to get there.

In order to prove myself worthy of this new life, I would have to let go of the obligations and burdens of the past. Let it all go: the jungle, the ruins of my career, everything I had been since becoming a field agent.

Every secret I had sworn to protect.

Every ambition I had ever held.

I cleared my throat.

“I’ve heard things,” I said, trying to play it cool, knowing everything depended on the outcome of this conversation.

“What kind of things?”

“I’ll tell you all I know,” I promised, and felt the encumbrance of the past few years begin to rise like steam from my soul. “But there’s one condition.”

Captain Konstanz raised a dubious eyebrow. “You know, you’re not in a great bargaining position.” She stood up and stuffed her fists into the pockets of her baggy jumpsuit. “What is it you want?”

I cleared my throat and looked her in the eye. “I want to join the House of Reclamation.”

Thirty-Nine: Ona Sudak

THIRTY-NINE

ONA SUDAK

I managed to get to my knees, but found I lacked the strength to stand. I had nothing left. For two days we’d been running, spurred on by the thought of nameless, faceless pursuers. But now Adam was dead. If the transparent door hadn’t been between us when the guns fired, I would have felt his warm blood spatter my face, and would have died with him. Even now, his bloody handprint—and the long smear of his final collapse—remained on the door of the moving room that had me trapped.