And then she sank down into the corner of the elevator and put her head in her hands.

I don’t think I’ve been sorry once since I arrived in Hell, except sorry for myself. But that did something to me. Seeing her like that, like she was small.

It hurt.

Maybe this side of success made me sentimental, I thought as I touched the paper in my pocket. Or maybe I realized that my plan relied on her willingness to lie for me, a kink I hadn’t quite ironed out. Or maybe it was the deeper, sharper truth.

As far as I could remember, Cal was the closest thing I’d ever had to a friend.

She could’ve told Felix the minute he opened that door, and I would have been on the conveyor belt. But she didn’t. Despite all my efforts to push her away, she was the only person—in millennia of this existence—who cared enough about me to keep a secret.

The words left my mouth before I could stop them.

“I’m getting out.”

“Excuse me?”

“I found a way out of Hell, and I needed those results to make sure I never come back.”

Cal laughed an angry, scary laugh.

“Go fuck yourself, Pey.”

“I wouldn’t have screwed you over like that for anything less, I promise. But I have a plan. And if you help me, we can both get out of here.”

I said it because I didn’t want her to turn me in. I was sweet-talking my way out of damnation—or, rather, worse damnation: deeper, darker, closer-to-the-hot-core damnation, unlike the current cozy damnation of home. But once I said it, I realized it was true. It would probably be bad for the world, having Cal out and about once more. But I didn’t care. It was good for me.

Cal stood up.

“Assuming even one word of what you’re saying is true—and that is a very, very big assumption—” Cal started as she paced, “it won’t matter, because KQ will send us both Downstairs if we fuck up this deal. And there is no deal without the target’s location, which, thanks to you, we don’t have.”

“We know he’s in Georgia, somewhere near the coast. Do you have any idea why he would be there? Any intel from Third?” I asked as I rolled the edge of the paper, just to feel it cup my finger back.

“Without the one contraption in Hell meant to find people, you mean? The one we just fucking left?”

“Okay,” I said. “What about Jason? I bet he has more in his memory than he originally shared. Maybe more than he even knows.”

Cal paused. “You know who you told me had memory clearance?”

“No,” I said, catching her drift. “Cal, come on. Be reasonable.”