“He’s still human now. Let me have that.” I submerged my hands in the bowl of water, washing them clean. I softened my tone. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this. And for getting you hurt again.”

“I wasn’t dragged anywhere.”

“No, I’m … I would never have managed without you.” I glanced across at him. “Thank you.”

“In that case, you’re welcome.” He pulled the shirt over his head. “So, what now? Rhyanon wants you to join her at the new safehouse and wait until the situation calms down.”

I shook my head.

“Yeah, I told her you wouldn’t like that. So?”

I stood up. “Can you find Daje Carsel?”

“I could. But what do you want with him?”

I explained my idea. Osan’s expression grew grimmer with every word, but he kept silent. When I was done, he did not tell me that my plan was insane, although he must have been thinking it. Even I could see the multitude of ways that this scheme could come crashing down around me, and even if it worked, what would I really gain?

On the other hand, how much did I still have to lose?

“Are you sure about this?” he asked at last. “I can still take you to Rhyanon. There might be another way.”

I smiled at him.

“No,” I said. “I have to break Finn out of the Renewal Wards myself.”

CHAPTER

TWENTY-NINE

Osan had returned the cab to the stables, so we crossed the city on foot. I wore a scarf around my hair, and he had dressed like a labourer. Not much of a disguise, but he said it would be inconspicuous enough. We travelled the labyrinth of backstreets through the dimming twilight, quick and unspeaking.

I hadn’t wanted him to come. After he had returned from delivering my messages, I told him to go back to Rhyanon; be safe, I would do the rest by myself. But Osan had only brushed me off irritably.

“Don’t be insufferable,” he said.

Getting inside the Food Management warehouse was easy enough; everyone in the department knew that a spare key was hidden in the gap under the loose paving stones beside the door. Osan kept watch on the street while I descended to the basement.

The dark room was full of fluttering, the rustling of wings—someone had brought in a new batch of crossmoths. I took two empty jars down from a shelf, and then a third, just in case. Small, sterile, with polished tin lids. I wedged them inside my rucksack; using the jacket Osan had lent me to cushion them. I could not afford for the glass to shatter.

As I turned to leave, I noticed the markings on the wall. Smudged black letters, just above the insect holding tanks. I frowned and moved closer.

taken everything from me