The ground beneath her feet began to slope upwards, and the burning in her calf muscles grew with each step. It seemed like the hill was too much for even Atlas to maintain a jog. He slowed to a walk, ignoring Thrym, who offered to take Dei.

“Do you think Dei is faking it so he doesn’t have to run?” Phobos called back.

Elara chuckled, holding her side.

Romy moved up to ask Atlas how much longer.

The man stopped at her query, breathing hard. He looked up the hill. They were about halfway there. As he looked back the way they had come, his features contorted.

Romy spun to see what had startled him.

At first she couldn’t see anything. But there. . . . Romy’s eyes widened. A glint flashed not far from the base of the hill.

Atlas cursed under his breath and turned away without answering.

They’d found Knot 27. Their pursuers were here.

“How did they find us?” Thrym asked Atlas.

Romy fell back again to walk beside Elara. She strained to hear the reply.

“The Mandate has many ways of finding those they hunt. And we have few ways to hide from their hunters,” Houston said quietly.

They reached the top of the hill in the next half hour. Atlas sat on a rock and studied them, panting.

“We need to move downhill like the Critamal are up our arse,” he said.

He didn’t have to expand on his statement. The Mandate’s forces had to be hot on their trail.

That meant . . . when their group reached the bottom of the other side . . . the enemy soldiers would be at the top. With their guns. It would be like picking up space debris. Her group would be powerless, unable to stop the jaws from closing around and crushing them.

“Graphic,” grunted Phobos.

Atlas nodded, standing once more. Romy couldn’t believe he was still going. She remembered reading about Trojans once. Atlas was like one of those mythical beings.

“Rosemary,” he called back. “I want you up beside me.”

He hoisted Deimos into a better position. “You don’t stop running for anything,” he told her. “Now, go!”

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

It quickly became apparent that Atlas couldn’t safely navigate the slope with Deimos over his shoulder. Phobos and Thrym became his shadows, helping Atlas to pass Deimos down the steeper sections and supporting what they could of his weight. They ran down the hill in a barely controlled stampede.

Blood pumped through her body, and Romy smiled as she sprinted. This was the best she’d felt in a week. Adrenaline coursed through her veins.

Romy could feel the ground under her feet, and was tethered to herself—not her shadow—for the first time since Houston squished the leech.

She stayed close in front of Atlas down the hill. It bothered her that they were leading the Mandate straight to the bunker.