“I don’t exactly know what she’s doing in there,” Cuffs fingered the silver at his wrists. “But she went in there yesterday and hasn’t come out. Something’s up. I was hoping you could, you know, take a look in. Make sure she’s all right.”

Amon was lost. There was something crucial the streetlord wasn’t telling him. “Why wouldn’t she be all right?” And why hadn’t Amon heard she’d been found?

Cuffs shrugged. “Mac Gillen’s in there, for one.”

Mac Gillen was a brute on the streets, but what did that have to do with Raisa? “How did she come to be in there?” Amon asked, choosing his words carefully, trying to resist the impulse to beat on the metal door between them. “Did the Guard find her, or did she escape from you, or…”

“Well, I believe she went in to rescue some Raggers from the pits,” Cuffs said. “She wasn’t all that specific.”

“She went in to rescue—why would she do that?” Amon gripped the ironwork, studying the streetlord’s face. Was he lying? And if so, what was the purpose?

“Guess she’s kind of taken with us,” Cuffs said. “You know, the glamour of the gang life and all. Getting beat up every other day, arrested for crimes you didn’t commit, long nights in gaol, sleeping in the cold and wet. It’s…seductive.” He raised an eyebrow.

Amon couldn’t help thinking Cuffs had chosen that word on purpose. Yet despite his sardonic tone, the streetlord’s face was pale and anxious under the dirt and bruises, and he practically twitched with tension.

Was he worried about Raisa?

No. He wasn’t allowed.

“Why should I trust you? Why should I believe you about anything?” Amon asked.

Cuffs spat on the ground. “All right, then. If it’s too chancy for you to walk into your own guardhouse and find your own girlie, I’ll go myself. I just thought you might get a better reception.” His face had gone hard, his blue eyes bright with anger.

Amon wavered, unwilling to lose Cuffs now that he had him in his sights. Even if he was tantalizingly out of reach.

“Look,” Cuffs said, rubbing his chin. “I’m sorry I took your girlie. I don’t want her to get hurt. And the longer you wait, the more likely that’ll be. I don’t know what else I can say.”

“You wait here,” Amon said. “Don’t you move.” As if he had some power to enforce it.

“All right,” Cuffs said, smiling slantwise. “You go on. I’ll be waiting here.”

Amon turned and raced toward the bridge, but hadn’t gotten more than a few paces when he heard his name again.

“Amon! Corporal Byrne! Where’ve you been? Wasn’t we supposed to meet at noon?”

He turned and found his Gray Wolf cadets clustered around the bridge pillar.