“That is not possible.” Dane had explained this before. “You know that is not possible. Not with two days. Not without Leslie learning what we plan to do. You have to choose one of these potential locations. You have to commit.”

How on earth was he to do that without more definitive information? What if she was in neither spot? What then?

Brigadier Dane had seen him question himself over Claire’s position time and time again. “Don’t even consider going after her yourself. You would be noticed by the rebels, shot for a traitor before you got within ten paces of the Citadel. Think of what Claire would want. She wants our people to be free more than she wants her life. You have a duty to her. When Shepherd has been deposed, there must be elections, real democracy. Leslie Kantor will not offer those things. She will declare martial law... nothing under the Dome will change except the name of our dictator.”

His superior officer was right, of course. Anyone who had seen how Leslie, Lady Kantor, comported herself, how she fed zealotry to her rebels in the name of her uncle, would grasp that any power she had at the end of this mess would be amplified by her desires.

She wanted to be a queen, was going to massacre tens of thousands of people to achieve her goals.

Seeing that the Beta grasped where they stood, Brigadier Dane got back to the subject at hand. “Now, tell me Enforcer Corday, is Claire in the east corridor or the basement?”

He didn’t know, but he was desperate enough to approach someone who might. “Give me one more day.”

Brigadier Dane frowned. “Fine. One more day to make your choice, or I choose for you.”

Corday left the woman with his precious data cube so she might study and memorize every last pathway. Hands shoved into his pockets, he walked the streets, squinting from sunlight glaring off dirty frost. Light snow invaded the Dome, crusting everything, the white flakes a sign the glass above them had cracked further.

It was going to be a long walk to the place where Maryanne Cauley hid.

Almost three months had passed since the first time he’d found out just who Claire’s old buddy really was.

During a standard reconnaissance mission, he’d seen a familiar face climb the Citadel steps. Blonde braid tied at her back, red lips smirking as if she were the true villain behind it all—the bitch who’d once burst into his apartment looking for Claire had walked right into Shepherd’s seat of power.

She was dressed in Follower’s blacks.

Corday had waited, sneaking closer. It was hours before she’d left, but when the scamp dared walk down those steps, he shadowed her home. It was easy to track her—so easy he suspected she was letting him follow her.