“Don’t do it,” Cyril said. “You’ll die. Like the ones who died before. The Buzzers ate them, too. And they’ll eat you.”

“Please, Cyril, enough.” Julian didn’t look away from me. “You go to the House, Paige. I’ll try and rally some troops.”

“Troops?”

“Come on.” The flame played in his eyes. “You’re not seriously going to leave without a fight, are you?”

I raised my eyebrows. “A fight?”

“You’re not going to go and pretend this didn’t happen. Scion has been doing this for two centuries, Paige. It’s not going to end. What’s to stop them dragging you straight back here when you reach SciLo?”

He had a point. “What do you suggest?”

“A prison break. Everyone gets out. We leave them with no voyants to feed on.”

“There are over two hundred humans here. We can’t just walk out. Besides, there are land mines in the woods.” I pulled my knees up to my chin. “You know what happened during Bone Season XVIII. I won’t have all those deaths on my conscience.”

“They won’t be on your conscience. People want to leave, Paige—they’re just not brave enough, not yet. If we can cause a big enough distraction, we can get them through the woods.” He placed a hand over my arm. “You’re from the syndicate. From Ireland. Don’t you think it’s about time we showed the Rephs they’re not in charge? That they can’t just keep on taking from us?” When I didn’t answer, he squeezed my arm. “Let’s show them. That even after two hundred years, they still have something to fear.”

I wasn’t seeing his face anymore. I was seeing Finn on that day in Dublin, telling me to fight.

“Maybe you’re right,” I said.

“I know I am.” His features lifted in a tired smile. “How many do you think we need?”

“Start with people who have good reason to hate the Rephaim. The harlies. The yellow-jackets. The amaurotics. Ella and Felix and Ivy. Then work on the white-jackets.”

“What should I tell them?”

“Nothing yet. Just ask some questions. Work out if they’d ever try and escape.”

Julian looked at Cyril.

“No.” Cyril shook his head. Behind his ruined glasses, his eyes were bright and feverish with fear. “I’m not. No way, brother. They’ll kill us. They’re immortal.”

“They’re not immortal.” I watched the Sterno burn to a low flame. “They can be hurt. Warden told me.”

“He could be lying,” Julian stressed. “This is Nashira’s fiancé we’re talking about. The blood-consort. Her right-hand man. Why do you trust a word he says?”

“Because I think he’s rebelled against her before. I think he’s one of the scarred ones.”

“The what?”

“A group of Rephs that started the rebellion of Bone Season XVIII. They were tortured. Scarred.”