Simone forced herself off the wall and caught Phillip by the collar. In the distance: another wheezing rasp, like a thousand wordless voices. The claws scraped slow, then retreated.

Simone exhaled. “All right. Keep going.”

Rebeka was lagging behind. Simone whirled on her heel, searching the dark hallway. Breathing. There was breathing—

Another flicker exposed the entrance to a stairwell. This should be the radio tower, according to Phillip. But there was no telling if they’d have enough power, or if they could even figure out the Germans’ equipment. She needed something faster than Morse code if they were going to get aid from the Resistance. Evangeline or not, there might not be enough aid left to spare.

They climbed the stone stairs, crooked now from the explosion. Ears strained for any more signs of the shadow beasts. The lights flickered on and off, and each time, Simone swung back to check behind them. The rifle in her grip was the only thing grounding her. Well—that and the tangled nest of memories and questions in her head.

Had Evangeline been aiding them from the start? If so, why would she lie, pretend she didn’t care? Why would she let Simone scold her so, and ultimately walk away? But then there was the possibility she’d only been spurred to action after Simone left. That was no healthy exchange, either. Either way, it left Simone chilled, unsure what to trust.

Simone winced. As if she were blameless. They were both flawed, both flailing desperately to cling to a life they couldn’t control. If Evangeline had decided to help, well, perhaps Simone, too, could be willing to change. Maybe even forgive.

She looked at Phillip and Rebeka. They could have easily left her to die. True, they’d needed her to some extent, but there was more to it than that. They trusted her, and in turn, she’d shown them nothing but suspicion, annoyance, aggravation. She’d been all too ready to leave them behind, despite whatever help they could offer her. How could she fault Evangeline for doing the same?

Isn’t it better than being afraid alone? A shiver ran down her back. Yes, she’d tried so hard to do this alone. But she didn’t have to.

“Look. It must have its own generator,” Phillip said.

Sure enough, at the top of the staircase, a ribbon of light streamed out from underneath a heavy oak door. Rebeka leaned against it, but the door didn’t budge. Shoved a little harder. Phillip tried to help her, until finally Simone pushed them both out of the way and slammed her shoulder into it.

“You could have been quieter,” Phillip said. “If there’s more of those things—”

“Then I’d rather draw them out now,” Simone retorted. “Better that than stumble across one lurking behind a piece of equipment.”

“That isn’t exactly comforting,” Phillip said.