Cade blinked tears from his eyes. They were tears of frustration and exhaustion. That, and the relief of having Amber with him once more. He had thought he could do this alone. But here he was, at the bomb itself. And they had no hope of bringing it with them.

His plan, as it stood, felt like a Hail Mary. Some last, desperate plan concocted by another being from another world, driven mad from solitude and an anger that transcended logic and reason.

And he had been taken in by it. Betrayed his friends, lied to them, manipulated them. For what? A thin sliver of hope that would end in his own death.

“We have two hopes of survival,” Cade said.

Atticus crossed his arms, already wary.

“We will find one of two things in the tombs,” Cade said, speaking loud for the benefit of the men. “Treasure or useful remnants. We’ll use that to either get ourselves and whatever we find teleported back to the keep—or buy ourselves weapons to use against the slavers.”

His words sounded weak, and poorly explained. But the legionaries held on to his every word. They needed hope, just as he had. And though they understood the rules of the game not a jot, if one of the contenders from the future said it … well, it must have some truth to it.

Atticus saw it too. He made one last attempt to discredit Cade’s plan.

“If they catch up to us while we’re inside the tombs, we will have no way to escape,” he said. “We’ll be trapped like rats.”

Cade shouldered his backpack and gave a last look at the plane.

It was so close. The fifteen of them could have lifted the bomb. Dragged it on a sled.

Instead, he turned his back on it. Pushed the plan from his mind. He would risk his own life for this. But not those of his friends.

“It’s a risk we’ll have to take,” Cade said. “It’s the only way we’re getting out of this alive.”

CHAPTER

45

The sun was blushing the horizon when the blue dots merged on Cade’s map. It had been their main source of light when the torches ran out, and a source of encouragement as they neared their destination during the tortuous journey.

Their night had been a miserable affair, made all the more exhausting by the torrent of rain that had begun almost immediately after they had set out. The canopy had given them some protection, but they had to constantly stop to switch torches, cursing as they held the damp bundles beneath outstretched cloaks, striking flint upon steel with desperate abandon to light their way once more.

Now, they staggered on in the new light, the Romans calling out praise to their gods as the warmth of the dawn began to take hold.

Cade knew they had been lucky not to be set upon by predators. They had made no secret of their travels, crashing through the jungles without a care for the noise and light they gave off.