“And that proves my point.”

Wolfe turned on them in a storm of black robes and bitter, angry eyes. He was, Jess thought, all but shattering down here, in this place where he couldn’t shut out the memories of his time behind these bars. “Do you think this is a game?”

Even Dario fell silent at the vicious tone and, more than that, the way Wolfe’s voice broke in the middle. He was trembling. Sweat shone hot on his face, though it was cave-cool down here. Santi—still on alert—reached back and put a hand on his arm, and Wolfe dragged in a tortured breath and nodded.

“Are there others?” Jess asked Thomas. “More prisoners here?”

“Yes,” Thomas said quietly. He was watching Wolfe as if he understood him perfectly. As if he was watching himself. “A few. Most don’t stay long. They—they’re taken away.”

“Released?” Morgan asked.

Thomas shook his head. Jess didn’t want to ask any more.

They were hurrying along now and keeping their voices low. Jess heard nothing behind them yet, but he was sure pursuit would be coming fast. The prison was larger than he’d thought and stretched in a long, straight hallway of cells, some occupied, and he couldn’t look inside, couldn’t, for fear he’d see the face of someone he knew staring out. Khalila had, just ahead of him. She’d stopped, grabbed the bars of a cell, and was looking inside. When she turned to Jess, her eyes were blind with tears. “We have to let them out,” she said. “Please. Help—”

He took out the keys, but his hands were trembling. Nearly useless. Focus, he told himself, but he wasn’t sure he could. It was all too much, too fast. Dario silently took the keys and tried them, one after another. The desperate person behind the bars didn’t seem to care. It was impossible for Jess to tell the gender or age; it was just a dark shape huddled in a corner against the wall, chained as Thomas had been.

The keys didn’t work.

“Maybe they’re on one of the other guards. I’ll get them,” Dario said, and went back the way they’d come. He didn’t get far before he reversed course and came back fast. “No time,” he said. “They’re coming. Go. Go!”

“But—” Khalila looked absolutely tormented. Dario took her by the arms and pulled her away from the cell. “No, we can’t—”

“We must.” He held on when she tried to yank away. “Khalila. Querida. Look at me. We can’t help them if we’re all dead!”

He was right. It hurt, and he was right, and Jess finally dared to look into the cell, into the face of the one they were leaving behind.

He didn’t know the man. That was a terrible relief, and then a terrible guilt, too. “I’m sorry,” he said, and helped Thomas as they followed Dario and Khalila down the hall.

He didn’t look in any of the other cells. Wasn’t sure he could stand it.