On the flight to Ongma Potseu in Gomin, several plans had been proposed and dismissed before the team decided their best shot was to break into the LyoLabs headquarters under the cover of night. It would give them the most time to search for what they were after. Blake was determined to go with them. She argued her side of the issue for the last several hours of the trip, and she eventually won. They needed every pair of hands and eyes they had on this job, because it had to succeed; the information they could steal from the company’s secure, on-site servers might give them Adila’s whereabouts. Hopefully, it would also tell them what Lillian had been forcing Adila to work on.

And why.

Blake was almost certain that Hugo and Cassidy—and a very worried Bernard—had caved mainly because there was absolutely no reason for anyone in Gomin to be searching for Blake. Not once they left the airport, anyway. Despite that, they still made Blake agree to wear a disguise that obscured most of her features.

Several days after they landed—long enough for the Calvers and Kindra to have time to run recon on the LyoLabs headquarters—Blake had learned that disguises were really freaking uncomfortable. The long brown wig itched. The prosthetics changing the shape of her face pulled. The padding that added bulk to her frame made her overheat.

Despite the many levels of discomfort, despite the ominous weight of the Beretta in her hand, she didn’t want to be anywhere else. They were finally letting her do something, and this time there was no doubt in her mind at all that she’d be able to hold up her part of this mission.

The port city of Ongma Potseu wasn’t small—it was at least as packed and populated as sections of Providence—but when they drove through the streets in the predawn gloom, Blake was struck by how dark the city was. Streetlights, storefronts, blocky apartments buildings—none of them were lit. At all. The darkness was so complete that a power outage was the only explanation that made sense.

“It’s really expensive to use electricity here.” Daelan spoke in a low murmur, but the words felt loud in the quiet van. “And it doesn’t always work in the residential areas, either; the utility companies don’t have much in the way of regulation or oversight.”

Right. Kindra had described the country like pirate-controlled Tortuga. “But LyoLabs has a security system running full-time?” Blake hoped not—it would make their job easier—but she wasn’t counting on it.

Sure enough, Daelan nodded. “They can afford it. And they’ve earned government contracts from Gomin, North Korea, China, Russia, and several other nations in the last decade. Honestly, it’s probably one of the most secure locations in the country.”

“Of course it is.” Because why would anything about this be easy?

“And because Lillian knows Mom, their systems don’t run on any of Redwell’s software.” The blue-white glow of the tablet in Daelan’s lap glinted off his manic smile. “We cracked that a few months back.”

“And you’re excited about this? Won’t the different system make this harder?”

He winked at Blake, his smile softening into something more playful, more inviting. “Easy is boring.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you might be a little crazy?”

Laughing softly, he nodded. “All the time. And usually not that nicely. ‘Pyromaniacal freakazoid’ is one of Dru’s favored epithets for me.”

“You earned that one fair and square,” Dru muttered from the seat in front of them.

“Hey! I haven’t blown anything up in . . .” His lips kept moving and his fingers twitched in the air above his tablet, as though he was counting. “Okay, well, if you don’t count the flash-bang someone else threw at me in Providence—”

“Then it still leaves you with the device you rigged for Lillian’s mercenaries in Chicago.” Dru paused. “And whatever you were playing with when we landed.”

“You better not blow the servers up before we get what we need,” Kindra warned.

“Please. It’s a last-resort device. In case everything goes to hell,” Daelan said, somehow sounding as innocent as if he were discussing a fallback college plan instead of a possibly deadly incendiary device.

Sera scoffed. “You mean we’re not already in hell? I really hope religion is a myth, then. If my life hasn’t been hell, I don’t ever want to see the real thing.”

“Drop-off ETA in sixty seconds.” Hugo’s pronouncement ended the conversation.

Blake straightened in her seat a second after everyone else reacted. Taking a deep breath, she lifted the Beretta and checked that the safety was on before holstering the gun. Cassidy would be leading the team infiltrating LyoLabs. Seraphina had taken Blake’s place, monitoring the exterior and the official law-enforcement channels. Since no one trusted Sera on either end of this job, Kindra was staying with her. Somewhat unsurprisingly, despite the not-yet-healed gunshot wound in his arm, Aaron had refused to be left behind.

“Now you see why I ain’t having none of that no more,” Geo had muttered, glaring at his boyfriend. “Getting left behind to worry sucks, and not in a single fun way.”

The pained look Aaron had given him had almost been funny.

The van pulled to a stop several blocks from LyoLabs. It would stay here, lights off and hidden in the narrow alley between two tall, ugly, concrete buildings, only moving when Cassidy called for an extraction. From here, her team would split in half and make their way to LyoLabs on foot.

As long as no one caught them before then.

Lillian had been so many steps ahead of the Calvers for so long that it was hard for Blake to truly believe Lillian didn’t already know where they were. She had to believe it though, at least for the next hour or two. If she didn’t, paranoia and panic would have her jumping at every shadow, blinding her to the actual dangers.

Outside the air-conditioned van, the muggy summer air clung to Blake, making the itch, irritation, and heat of her disguise worse. She ignored it as best she could, focusing instead on the hand signals Cassidy used to direct their group. Geo and Blake would follow Daelan. Cassidy would lead Aaron and Dru in the opposite direction, approaching LyoLabs from the east instead of the south. Hugo, Kindra, Sera, and Bernard were holding their base camp this time.

Daelan brushed the back of Blake’s hand with his fingertips, lingering a split second longer than necessary to catch Blake’s attention, and then moved deeper into the shadows. They walked slowly, keeping their pace even and stepping carefully to avoid making noise. Their path ran through the deepest patches of darkness to catch no one’s eye.

Since the city was on the coast, there was brine on the breeze. Layered underneath that scent was gasoline, garbage, and grime. Trash cans on street corners and in alleyways overflowed with so much refuse that Blake knew it couldn’t be the product of a single week. This was neglect that had built over more than a month, and the summer heat had baked it to something that—in some piles—almost resembled compost.

She had to breathe through her mouth in shallow pants to avoid gagging, which was why she didn’t immediately notice the lack of smell.

Street by street, they closed in on LyoLabs, and the closer they got, the cleaner the streets became. The better the air smelled. By the time they were within sight of LyoLabs, there was only sea, not sewage, on the breeze.

“Guess they don’t want to offend the nostrils of visiting officials,” Daelan murmured, his voice barely carrying across the two feet dividing them.

Blake’s lip curled in disgust, and she nodded, but she didn’t dare say a word.

The tiny comm in Blake’s ear clicked, a slow-fast pattern that she knew was Morse code. It was too fast for her to decipher. She and Bernard were probably the only ones on the team who had that problem. Daelan responded in kind quickly, then adjusted their path, aiming for the gate in the southern fence.

As they approached, Daelan took a small device out of his bag, something Cassidy had programmed to hack the coded locks on the exterior of the building. With a quick swipe of a white card and several commands entered into the device it was connected to, the gate beeped and there was the snick of a lock opening.

Daelan held the gate for them, and Geo took point, leading them into the protected, carefully manicured garden ringing the perimeter of LyoLabs’s property. The massive, square, gray, four-story building loomed ahead of them, only narrow slats of glass breaking up the solid surface. If not for the garden, it would look like a prison. With the intensity of the security they had to get through to reach their destination, Blake wondered if it didn’t sometimes feel like a prison to the people working inside.

Guards wouldn’t be through this area for another five minutes, according to the timetable Cassidy had worked out over the last several days. The video surveillance in the area should be down if Cassidy’s team had been able to disrupt enough of the building’s power. There had been something about a signal jammer or blocker or something too, but Blake had gotten lost in the technobabble.

However Cassidy managed it, Blake, Daelan, and Geo reached the south wall of the building safely and—as far as they could tell—undetected. Using hand signals, Daelan ordered Blake to watch the east while Geo eyed the west. The temptation to turn and watch Daelan hack the electronic lock on the door was stronger than she’d anticipated, each beep and faint scratch heightening the impulse, but she resisted. She was there to watch Daelan’s back, not watch him work. Eyes out, she reminded herself.

Daelan tapped her shoulder twice. They were in.

The side door let them into an empty hallway, keypad-locked doors lining both walls. A quick scan of the ceiling revealed cameras watching from above. Those eyes should be blind right now if Cassidy’s interference was still at work; if they weren’t, then this job would be over fast.

So far, they were good. No footsteps. No alarms. No shouts.

Daelan signaled, and they moved forward, up the hall and left at the first junction. The door to the stairs wasn’t locked, so they slipped in easily, padding quietly up the steps to the third floor. Now, on the other side of the first floor, Cassidy’s team should be disabling the alarm system completely and setting up the backup plan, just in case one of the guards got too close. It wouldn’t kill anyone—they couldn’t kill anyone without creating proof that someone had been inside the building—but Blake still hoped they wouldn’t need to use it.

On the fourth-floor landing, the level where all of the administrative offices were, Daelan clicked a Morse code message over their comm and then pressed a small black disc against the door. A listening device. A wire trailed out of the disc and into what looked like a battery pack. When he flicked a switch on top of the pack with his gloved thumb, faint static resonated through Blake’s earpiece. Static, but no sounds a person was capable of making.

Daelan removed the disc and put the device away and then turned to face Blake and Geo. Out, he signaled to them. Walk. Two hallways. Right. Walk. End. Left. Right wall. Five doors. Done. Yes?

Blake nodded. Daelan focused on the keycard lock on the door. Something soft, like the faint brush of a fingertip, touched her cheek.

She jumped, mouth going slack and a fearful shriek on her tongue.

Heart pounding, she clamped her mouth shut fast enough that only a sharp gasp of air escaped. Hair. The touch had been the long strands of her wig.

She took a breath through her nose, released the air through her mouth, and hoped she looked something less than panicked when Daelan checked in with her before pressing down on the lever handle and opening the door.

Geo’s hand gripped her shoulder for a second, the expression on his face sympathetic when she looked up at him, but the momentary lapse seemed to have escaped Daelan’s notice. Thankfully.

Daelan led them cautiously, quietly, and unerringly through the maze of hallways. Some of the offices had windows looking into the hallway, but most didn’t, creating a space that felt narrower than it actually was. Claustrophobia-inducing or not, the hallway was deserted; right now, that was what mattered. Blake would willingly have crawled through the air vents like a movie spy if it meant getting the Calvers the information they needed to finish this.

Daelan’s left hand rose sharply, fist clenched, and he cocked his head to the left, angling his right ear toward the intersection of hallways they were about to approach.

He heard something. Someone.

Waving them back, Daelan began clicking a code through the comm. This one Blake recognized. It was the signal to release plan B.

As she backed away from the intersection, she unzipped the pack attached to her belt. She removed the compact respirator from its case and pressed it over her nose and mouth. Behind her, she heard the soft sound of a zipper unlocking; Geo was unpacking his mask too.

Cassidy should have initiated the release of gas through the ventilation of the building as soon as Daelan signaled. Even with the intensity of the dispersal system Daelan had rigged—he’d called it a “controlled-release gas bomb,” which Blake was pretty sure was a combination of terms he’d made up—this building was over fifty thousand square feet. That was a lot of air for the gas to infect.

Once the guards had breathed enough of the chemical, they would start to feel disoriented and nauseous. Within minutes, they would be running for the nearest bathroom. Since Cassidy had arranged for the entire night crew to share a meal a few hours earlier—a bonus gift from management, they believed—they should all blame it on food poisoning.

Or at least, that was the plan. But the gas had been spreading for several minutes now, and the guard was getting closer.

Geo readied a syringe, the backup to their backup plan. Blake’s hand tightened on her gun. The guard kept walking.

It should’ve kicked in by now. Why wasn’t it working?

Another few feet and the guard would reach the junction. They’d be seen.

The chemical mixture in the syringe would knock the guard out and cause at least a few minutes of memory loss, but if Geo had to use it, the chances of the guards realizing someone had been here rose. If anyone noticed the break-in tonight, Lillian would change plans, and everything would be ruined, and—

A thump against the wall. The sound of someone trying and failing not to gag. Hurried footsteps moving away from their hiding place.

Blake hoped she wasn’t the only to heave a silent, grateful sigh of relief.

Another moment of stillness. Daelan crouched and peered around the corner with a tiny mirror. Once they were sure the way was clear, Blake and Geo followed Daelan to the door of the CFO’s office. Geo stayed near the door, watching down the hall, and Blake followed Daelan to the desk.

On the wall perpendicular to the windows, a door led to a conference room. Daelan nodded toward that gateway, and Blake moved into place. While Daelan worked on the computer, her sole job was to make sure no one snuck up on them sideways.

It was an easy job. The door to this meeting space was on the opposite wall, using a short hallway that extended off the main one. Chances of anyone approaching this way were so low, it was almost negligible—the hallway was the more likely path, and that was good since the wall between the room and the hall was mostly glass. Blake didn’t care. At least they’d let her come.

“It’ll be five minutes once I crack the password,” Daelan reminded them, his words distorted by the respirator.

“And the password’ll take . . . how long?” Geo asked.

“Three or four.” Keys clacked as Daelan hacked into the system to steal as much data as he could and then plant a virus that would appear as though it had come from the internet. According to Cassidy and Daelan, it should look like random malware, but it’d be bad enough to disrupt the system and corrupt about forty-eight hours’ worth of data, including the security feeds and every single access log for the building’s electronic locks.

The virus would turn them all into ghosts.

“I’m in. Five and counting from now.”

Blake nodded and looked away from the doorway long enough to check the time on her watch: 3:12 a.m. They were supposed to convene with Cassidy’s group at 3:23. This would be cutting it close. Maybe too close.

“Take your time and all,” Geo said. “But ya might also want to hurry your ass up.”

“You can’t rush genius,” Daelan muttered. “Or miracles.”

“It’d better not take a damn miracle to get us through this.” Geo’s voice was wry, even through the respirator’s distortion, and Blake could picture the sardonic curl to his lips. “I’m pretty sure I already used up all the ones I’m entitled to in this lifetime.”

“Well, let’s hope Blake has some to spare, ’cause I can’t have all that many left to my name either.” Daelan’s comment sounded absentminded, and the clack of the keys never slowed.

Blake shifted her weight and adjusted her grip on the Berretta. Don’t look away, she ordered herself. Your job is this office.

The Calvers had trusted her with one job. If she screwed this up now, they’d never give her another one.

The thought made her stop and blink at the dark, quiet room. Never give her another? As though this were her life now. As though it would be for a lot longer than however long it took to make sure Lillian French was buried under the weight of her countless crimes.

When the hell had this kind of life become normal?

Blake took a breath and pushed all of those thoughts aside. Now wasn’t the time. She had to keep an eye and an ear out for—

A flashlight beam angled across the room.

Shit. For that. The light of a guard coming up the hallway no one was supposed to use, and obvious only because of the wall of glass separating them. Which meant that, if he got close enough, he would have just as easy a time seeing them as they did seeing him.

Keeping her eyes on the still-empty office, Blake snapped once and then signaled the warning Daelan had taught her the day before. She could only hope Daelan was paying attention.

The break in keyboard noise—only a second before it picked back up, faster than before—was enough to tell her that the warning had been heard and heeded.

Blake pressed herself against the wall, gun raised and ready, but finger pressed flat against the side. Shooting too early would be just as devastating as shooting too late.

Even, quiet breaths. Steady hands. A watchful eye. Aim for the legs.

Daelan needed another minute, and Blake was going to make sure he got it.

Although Blake might not have mastered the skill of deciphering incoming Morse code, she’d memorized several patterns she could send over the comm. She sent one now.

E-G-C.

Enemy Guard. Close.

Pause.

In the hallway, the footsteps were getting closer. The creak of a leather shoe, the click of a set of keys hanging from a belt, and the slight wheeze of someone breathing with a stuffy nose. Attacking the guard, disabling him in any way, was a last resort, but he kept getting closer. The light kept bobbing across the conference room, reflecting off the shiny black table.

Blake hoped Daelan had been wrong about being out of miracles.

She tapped twice more, a time indicator to show just how close to discovery they were.

The double burst echoed back through the comm—Cassidy indicating that they’d heard. But hearing the message didn’t mean they were in a position to do anything about it.

Another sweep of the flashlight. The crackle of a radio. A single cough.

Blake took another breath and shifted her finger to the trigger. A few more seconds and she’d have to take a shot if Geo couldn’t get into place with the syringe. Daelan wasn’t done.

The guard’s flashlight swept the room again—and dropped when his radio crackled to life.

Whatever the message, it drew the guy away. Not quite at a run, but fast enough that he was gone in a second, groaning with each step. Steps that took him away from the office. Down the hall. Farther and farther away, until the footsteps faded beyond Blake’s hearing.

“I do not like how close that was,” Geo muttered behind her.

Blake shuddered and gave in to the urge to look Geo’s way. Though Geo’s body was still mostly angled toward the hallway, his head was tilted toward Daelan when Blake turned.

“Almost done, Miracle Max?” Geo asked.

“Just . . . give me . . . another few . . . seconds . . .” The speed of his typing somehow got faster. “Done! Let’s GTFO, compadres.”

“The sooner the better,” Blake agreed as Daelan unplugged the small portable hard drive and stood up from the desk.

Geo led them through the darkened halls, back the way they’d come, but only after clearing each section, checking for any more unexpected visitors.

Their miracle of timing held to the rendezvous point with Cassidy’s team.

To their planned exit point on the south side of the building.

To the gate and then out of it.

Back to the sewage-strewn streets of Ongma Potseu.

Blake was almost glad of the smell this time.

Ten minutes after exiting LyoLabs, all six of them were climbing into the van and heading away from the center of the city. Only in the calm, relative safety of the van did Blake hear how fast her heart was beating and feel how her hands shook.

She watched Daelan pass over everything he’d downloaded from the CFO’s computer, but the explanation of what he had managed to read during the download sounded like it was coming through a wall. Distant and indistinct.

For a few seconds, until the van was several more blocks away from LyoLabs, the only sound Blake could focus on was her pulse. Everyone else was talking. She knew they were because she could see their mouths moving. Listening—she should be listening. It was important. But holy hell, she couldn’t quite believe yet that they’d made it out alive.

“—and so if that’s the case, all we’ll be able to get off the data stored on-site at LyoLabs is a location. Maybe,” Daelan was saying.

Cassidy nodded. “You might be right, but at least we’ll have a location.”

A location. Of course. And then, once they found out where to go, all they had to do was get there, breach whatever security measures Lillian had in place, rescue—or kidnap—Adila Quadri, get away, and then figure out how to stop whatever else the devil had planned.

Basically, they had to repeat everything that had happened this morning. And somehow not get caught at it. Again.

Blake covered her face with her hand and swallowed laughter that probably would’ve come out more than a little hysterical.

They’d gotten this far and already too many had been lost. Her dad. Ryce and Amett Weston. Jenna Tanvers. They and so many others Blake didn’t know were gone, but the ten of them had made it here with only minor injuries.

Geo had been right—none of them could have very many miracles left.

So how much further would the miracles they did have get them?

Blake wasn’t sure she wanted to know, but she was pretty positive that she was about to find out.