“She’s a Warden now. Under Valkyrie’s wing. They knew each other in the Birdcage. She normally only has a minor effect in actual recordings or speakers. It was Swansong.”

Tristan sighed.

The song continued, tranquil, more hum with percussion at this stage than the aria that had opened things.

“Knock knock!” was the voice on the far side of the wall. Obnoxious and loud.

“That’s Imp,” Tristan said.

“Back up!” Antares called out.

Then she smashed the wall.

Heartbroken, dogs, Rachel, and Imp were gathered on the far side. They had attacked from the rear. From the blood on her knife, Imp had done her share.

“Undersiders scare me,” Tristan said.

“Good,” Rachel said.

There was a look on their faces. Hurt, hollow.

Tristan counted the Heartbroken. One was absent—and on the back of one dog, wrapped in a blanket—

“Samuel?” he asked.

Rachel nodded, looking away, angry. Chastity had her arms folded. Roman and Juliette looked like they were in a very similar space, weirdly sullen.

“The littler kids are going to be hell to manage,” Imp said. Her voice wasn’t as lively as it normally was. “You?”

The question was so casual.

“We’ll see,” Antares said. “They’re coming.”

Tristan shook his head, switching over to look at the displays. He could see the markers of each other member of the group, excepting one. They didn’t have labels.

He could see the messages Lookout had sent and was sending, and the replies.

There was no reason to stay and hold the chokepoint, with the Undersiders having done their share.

They rendezvoused with Sveta. Wounded, with holes in her arms and shoulder, Sveta hugged Antares.

Every appearance was simultaneously relief and horror.

Then they saw Rain, with Love Lost and Colt. Colt was covered in dust. Chevalier and his team followed behind.

They ran into thralls, and found those thralls didn’t have much fight in them. As the music sounded throughout the facility, cutting in and out as Lookout managed to get her grips on a system, then was blocked or shut down, the thralls gave up their efforts.

“Is this A or is it C?” Imp asked.

“C,” Tristan said, trying not to think about what that meant. Two members of Breakthrough were supposed to die.

Victoria picked up speed, moving away and ahead of the group, as they hurried to their destination. She and Ashley had been roommates, or housemates. Two sides of a peculiar coin, in some ways.

Victoria only flew like she was flying now when she was using the Wretch, keeping a distance, making sure not to get within ten feet of anyone, like a bubble surrounded her. Except in this case, it did.

They found the tail end of another group. Legend’s troops who moved on foot, who were disarming a group of thralls that had surrendered.