“Or we alert Natalie,” I said. “It means he can find an escape route. If they want to frame us for his death then that probably means they want to be able to account for my whereabouts and have a plausible explanation for his whereabouts at the same time. Sending him to go talk to Sveta, maybe, and then intercepting him. Probably with Crock o’ Shit.”

“That’s a hell of a name,” Vista said. “She’s strong enough to pretend to be you?”

Cryptid had reached the point where we’d gone through the wall.

The message appeared from Kenzie’s team.

-down hall with gate. basement of that part of complx-

“Yeah,” I said. “Open the way, get us through there?”

I indicated the portcullis.

“The building without enough cameras for us to know where everyone is?” Ashley asked.

“This part of the prison doesn’t have enough cameras for me to know a hundred percent. That building’s worse.”

“Great,” she said. There was a terseness and tension to her that I knew was because she was worried about Armstrong and insecure about our ability to help him.

It was easy to be cool and collected when you didn’t care about anyone or anything, but the guy had earned a place with her.

Vista parted the bars. While she did, I looked ahead, finding the cameras and focusing on them, watching the little circle lock onto each, before giving me a view of what the camera saw. There was a stairway to the basement but cameras had too tight a view from within the stairwell, of that stairwell.

“We go for what I’m pretty sure is a storage area. Stop at the end of the hall, check, then run for it on signal.”

Cryptid closed in.

“Crock,” Vista said. “She’s strong?”

“After,” I said. “I’ll fill you in when I’m sure we won’t be caught talking.”

She nodded.

Too many things to keep track of. We hurried through the gate and down the hall, stopping at the corner. I indicated our path with my finger, a zig-zag around the areas cameras could see. The ground floor had an eating area taking up a good fifth of it, another area that was sealed off and curtained, maybe a closed storefront, and then lobby and smaller rooms. There was a stairwell tucked into a nook, just to the left of the hallway we were in, my view through the camera telling me it led up and down.

But our focus was the smaller room.

I checked, then gave the signal. To the room by a trolley loaded with bottles and folded cloths.

Into the room, where more bottles and cloths were stored and shelved.

Using Wretch strength, a burst, I moved a shelf. Metal scraped against floor. We stood in silent tension, waiting and listening to see if there would be an issue or cry for alarm.

“I’m making a hole?” Ashley asked.

“Controlled destruction,” I said.

“I don’t do controlled. Not well.”