I lie sprawled on the train floor, breathing heavily and looking up at the flickering lights, and in this brief moment of calm, staring up at a light that doesn’t quite work, two emotions run through me almost simultaneously: unbridled joy at being free from the Block, and unparalleled rage at Happy for hunting us down like rats.

“We can’t let Happy win,” I say, climbing to my feet.

“I know,” Sam replies as she moves through the carriage, checking for cameras and soldiers.

“No, I mean it. If we have to die to stop the machines, then we have to die.”

Sam turns to me. “Luka, I know.”

We ride the train for four stops, returning the salutes of two soldiers who board just as we get off.

We move quickly through Old Town, past the crumbling remains of the parliament buildings and onto the road by the river where less than two months ago I almost froze to death.

Sam stops at a storm drain, lies on her back, and slides into the gap. She has to adjust and tilt to get her pregnant stomach through. I follow, lying on my front, holding on to the edge of the drain and lowering myself into the sewer.

I thought the darkness of the city was bad, but we’re immediately plunged into such thick blackness that my eyes need time to adjust. There is no time; Sam has grabbed my wrist and we’re moving through the ankle-deep wastewater.

“This way,” Sam breathes as we twist and turn through the channels beneath the city.

When we make it to the drain behind the courthouse, Sam climbs up and lifts the manhole cover up a few inches and looks out. “Wait here,” she whispers, before slipping out to the road.

I wait in the quiet and the dark for what feels like an age before she returns.

“Where did you go?” I ask.

“Pod hooked up a switch that sets off a bunch of separate lights across the city—that way whoever’s on lookout knows when we’re returning.”

“Smart,” I say, and then I’m rushing to keep up with Sam as she moves through the tunnels toward the library.

We’re only twenty or thirty yards along when we hear footsteps approaching from the opposite direction. The first thing I see is the glow of Apple-Moth’s lights, and then figures appear. By now my eyes have adjusted, and I recognize Igby, Pander, and Akimi.

“Friends! Friends! You’re back!” Apple-Moth cries as the drone zips around and around our heads.

“Thank the Final Gods,” Pander says, and hugs Sam with such ferocity that she knocks the air out of her.

I smile at this. It’s nice to see some of Pander’s icy veneer beginning to melt.

Akimi walks up to me, puts a hand on my shoulder, and breathes a sigh of relief. “I thought … I thought you weren’t coming back.”