With a scowl, she snatches it back, tucking a chip forcefully into her mouth. “In case you haven’t noticed, we haven’t had anything to eat besides bread and water since we got to London. I don’t care whose chips they are. I’m hungry. And you should eat, too.” She pitches a Twix at me, and my stomach grumbles like a damn traitor for it. With an infuriated sigh, I tear into the wrapper, jamming a whole candy bar in my mouth.

“We should stay and rest for a while,” she suggests. “Maybe your smaze will come.”

I answer around a mouthful of chocolate. “We’ve been down here for more than a day already, and it hasn’t bothered to show itself.”

“Maybe we’re moving too fast. Like, remember when you were little and your mom would tell you if you ever got lost, just stay put so it’d be easier for her to find you?”

I choke on a dry laugh. “I stayed put for years waiting for my mother. I promise, she never came looking for me.”

“Oh,” Kai says quietly. I hate the undercurrent of pity in it. The last thing I need or deserve is Kai’s sympathy. “Either way, it wouldn’t hurt to rest,” she suggests. “Aside from that nap in the catacombs, you haven’t slept since we left Cuernavaca. And you lost a lot of blood.”

I pace the room. If I sit down, I might not get up again. “We don’t have time to rest. We need to find my smaze. And then I need to find Fleur and Chill.”

She stares into the bag of chips, searching for a whole one in the crumbs. “Relax. He won’t kill them. Not yet, anyway,” she amends. “He’ll wait until he finds you.”

I watch her face, wondering what kind of relationship she and Doug had for the short time they were here, planning their escape. She talks as if she knows him intimately. And I can’t reconcile that with the person Lyon trusted with those maps.

I pluck the second Twix from the wrapper and chase it with a bottled water. Thirst slaked and hunger momentarily sated, fatigue finally digs in its claws. I slip off my jacket and holster, the air too thin and warm in the powerless room.

The sleeve of my jacket sticks to the crusting blood on my shirt. I peel aside the tear in the fabric, unsurprised to find two popped stitches and a hell of a bruise.

“How are you feeling?” Kai asks.