Switching my phone to vibrate, I push the ache in my heart to the side and hurry to find Atlas and the others. Spine is standing on a chair in the center of a recreation-style room. Stewards are jammed on worn couches or milling about the tight space. Some tie and retie their laces. Others are huddled in groups, talking intently. The bags of books and papers that were brought from the Lyceum are piled near the door.

Spine nods when she spots me and lets out a loud whistle. Everyone quiets.

Nervous excitement crackles as I weave through the Stewards, almost all dressed in black sweatshirts, to stand next to Atlas and Dewey.

Spine rolls up her sleeves—the book and the flame tattoo on her forearm visible as she slowly turns on her chair to survey everyone in the room. Several Stewards pull up their sleeves or roll down their socks to display the same tattoo.

Finally, Spine straightens her shoulders and speaks with a voice that carries throughout the space. “Atticus should be the one to make this speech.”

I find Atlas’s hand and weave my fingers through his.

“The Stewards were founded because Atticus’s father understood the power of words and did what he could to protect them. Atticus continued to lead that mission, but he decided that keeping the record of our country was not the way we should measure success. He believed that every day the lies presented as truth by our government went unchecked made it harder for the truth to be returned and embraced. And that truth valuable enough to protect was important enough to fight for.”

Stewards around me nod and raise their fists.

Spine turns to face Atlas. “Atticus intended on waging this fight quietly. He did not ask for our help, because he did not want to put anyone else at risk. But he is not here to stand for the truth. He was turned in to the Marshals by one of our own who believed she understood the Stewards and our mission better than anyone else. So we will stand for the truth in his place and hope the truth will set not only Atticus but the entire country free.”

She scans the room again. “This won’t be easy.”

Feet shuffle around me.

“Some of you have trained for months, others for years, to avoid the Marshals and keep the Stewards a secret. Today, we are asking you to use those skills to let the people of this city know what we have been protecting all these years. When the government realizes what we are doing—the Marshals will come.”

Heads nod. A Steward not far from me with a shock of gray running through dark red hair jams her hands into her pockets and looks down at the floor.

When that truth settles, Spine continues. “When you see them, run. Return here or to one of the stations in the surrounding neighborhood. Keep your face hidden if there is any chance you’ll be recognized by anyone in the area. If your real identity is compromised, Index will see to it that you are safely hidden until you can be taken out of the city.”