I sat on my bed and leaned back against the wall, emotionally and physically exhausted. Peter knew I’d never get out of here. He dangled my health in front of me, knowing I couldn’t turn it down. All he had to do was get me past the blast doors.

I cupped my hands over my nose and mouth. Would I ever see her again? Would I ever see my family again? See the sky again? Breathe fresh air?

Jesus. What have I done?

chapter thirty-eight

savage

Naomi

T

he apartment was clear of bugs of cameras after four sweeps with Kitsch. At least Peter wasn’t a total scumbag. While Kitsch swept my bedroom and bathroom a fifth time, I unrolled the Complex blueprints that covered almost my entire table, setting candles on all four corners to keep it flat.

Trex knocked twice then came in. “Sorry I’m late. Darby couldn’t get away, so I brought Maddie to her.”

“No problem,” I said, touching my lips while I stared at the schematics.

“What the hell is this?” Trex asked.

“I was going to ask the same thing,” Kitsch said, coming from the hall.

“The Complex,” I said.

“It’s complete and dated four months ago. How did you get it?”

“Peter’s house.”

“Isn’t his place gated and heavily secured?”

I shrugged. “Wasn’t that hard.”

Trex put his hands on top of his head, lacing his fingers. “Naomi, you’re going to get yourself imprisoned for a very long time. Possibly for life. I have a family. I can’t be involved in this.”

I looked at him. “You’re right. You should go.” I looked at Kitsch. “You go too.”

“I’m staying,” Kitsch said.

Trex sighed. He was conflicted, and I could see it was killing him.

“Go, Trex. Now,” I said.

He sighed, walking backward until he reached the door. He turned and twisted the knob, letting in a gust of cool night air. “There might be another way,” he said.

“There’s not,” I said. “Don’t say anything to anyone else. Especially Harbinger.”

Trex looked at me over his shoulder, nodded, then closed the door behind him.

“What do you need from me?” Kitsch said.

I rested my hands palms-down on the table, looking down. “We need a plan, then a plan B and plan C. I don’t see anywhere in or out of Deep Echo except the blast doors.”

“What about that?” Kitsch said, pointing to a ventilation system.

I crossed my arms, bending over. “Is it large enough for me, much less Zeke?”

“It’s a crawl space. Can his heart handle a mile-long army crawl?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what kind of treatment he’s been undergoing. I saw him last Tuesday. Looks like he’s not allowed near the blast doors anymore. He looks miserable but healthy.”

“So what are our obstacles?” Kitsch asked.