After a couple of hours of drinking, the day catches up with everyone. Sverre and Daniil curl up on the couch together and exchange a few tired kisses before falling asleep. Magda, sitting on the floor with her back propped against the same piece of furniture, dozes off with her head leaning against Daniil. Exhaustion hits me as well, amplified by the aftereffects of the Sanita, and I nod off despite my intention to keep watch.

I’m not sure how much time passes before I wake. I jolt upright and wince as the movement jostles my ribs. The others are sleeping soundly, and the house is quiet, though the storm still rages outside. It’s tempting to let myself fall back asleep in the company of my team, but instead I stand, cracking my neck and back as I rise to my feet. Someone needs to watch over the power source. I shouldn’t have left it alone at all, but my exhaustion sabotaged me.

I walk into the kitchen, and freeze as I spot Hort in the corner. My mind races. I had assumed he retreated to the bedroom with his children, but he must have slipped out while I slept. Even with his back to me, it’s obvious that he’s shuffling through our packs on the floor.

The sound of me drawing my weapon stops him. He turns, face draining of what little color it has as he finds himself staring down the barrel of my blaster.

“I—I didn’t mean anything by it,” he stutters. “I—my family, we hardly have enough as it is, and with this—I was just looking for some food—”

He blathers on, but I stop listening as my eyes shift past him to my pack and the soft glow emanating from within. My stomach drops. How could I be so stupid as to leave it unguarded? If only I was less tired, if only I had woken when he left the bedroom… But after a moment, my heart grows hard and cold. “Classified,” Altair told me at the end of our conversation. “Let no one see it.”

“Did you look?” I ask, cutting off the string of useless words coming out of the man’s mouth. His mouth hangs open, and I steel myself further.

“No,” he says, and I step closer, aiming my gun directly at his forehead. “I mean—I did, but I have no idea what it is!” His expression turns wild as he sees the look in my eyes. His own eyes dart around, searching for an escape or a weapon. But instead of going for either, he breathes, “Please.”

I grab him by the arm and drag him toward the door. My team stirs at the sound of the struggle, and Magda raises her head. One hand reaches for her weapon, but I stop her with a quiet order. She watches me go.