“Rachel?” Ian asks as I brush past him.

“You two can finish the eastern fuel line. I’m going to check in with Logan.”

I leave them there without a backward glance, feeling emptier with every step I take away from the bluff.

Chapter Twenty-Five

RACHEL

I find Logan inside the Wasteland inspecting one of the fuel lines. Quinn and Willow are with him.

“There you are,” he says, and there’s relief in his voice as he steps away from the others and moves toward me. “I sent the rest of your team back to the shelter, but couldn’t find you, Ian, or Thom. I thought . . .”

When he doesn’t finish his sentence, I say, “I know there’s a tracker out here somewhere. I was careful.”

He looks at me for a long moment, then says quietly, “I was more worried about the fact that the Commander is so close. I thought you’d be tempted to do something . . . unplanned. I’m sorry I misjudged you.”

For a moment, I consider lying to him, but I can’t stomach the thought. Quinn and Willow leave to inspect the next fuel line, and I’m grateful for the privacy.

“You didn’t misjudge me. I was about to sneak up to the bluff, look for the Commander, and shoot an arrow in his eye.”

He makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat and starts pacing. “You were . . . that’s just . . .” He draws in a deep, slow breath, as if he needs the time to find the words missing from his sentences.

“We could still get him. He’s so close. We could use the device with your booster pack attached. We already know it works—”

“Absolutely not.” He stops pacing and faces me.

“Logan, he’s right there.” I gesture toward the distant bluff, with its cheerful campfires and snatches of laughter drifting on the wind. “Every soldier with him would kill us without hesitation if they had the chance. Why can’t we do the same? We have the advantage. We could use the Cursed One and finish this.”

His voice is fierce. “Last time we called the beast it wouldn’t touch the Commander because of the necklace he wears. Instead, it destroyed our city. I refuse to take a chance with our lives again. We have a plan. I have an invention that will find him and kill him, Rachel. I just need a few more supplies to finish building it.”

“I thought you were building a tracking device. How would that kill him?”

“It’s basic science. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before. The tracking device sends out a sound wave, which is essentially an oscillation of pressure traveling through an acceptable medium at various frequencies—”

“You’re losing me.”

“The tracker sends out a sound wave, searching for a specific signal. The Commander’s, in this case. For the tracker to find the signal, there has to be a receiver at the other end. Something to accept and translate the sound wave. The tracking device’s signal is strong enough to ping off of the receiver and bounce back to the original tech.” His words tumble over each other in his eureka!-I-just-invented-something-epic! voice. “But what if the signal was stronger? What if I could increase the sound wave to something the receiver couldn’t accept?”

“You mean you think you can overpower the Commander’s wristmark receiver? I don’t want to dump cold water on your enthusiasm, but what good would that do? Wouldn’t it just break the receiver and leave us with no way to track him at all?”

“I’m not just going to break the receiver. I’m going to obliterate it. Use sound as a weapon.”

“Explode his receiver?”

“Yes.”

“In his wrist.”

“Yes.”

“Next to his artery.” My breath quickens as something brilliant and sharp surges through me.

“Exactly.”

I throw my arms around him. “You’re a genius. I don’t tell you that often enough, but you really are.”

His voice is quiet. “We agreed to a plan. I told you I could build something we could use after we delivered these people safely to Lankenshire. Why didn’t you trust me? Why go off on your own?”

“I didn’t go.” My voice sounds small. “Ian stopped me at first, but then I thought about what you asked of me back in Baalboden. How you didn’t want me to risk myself without an exit strategy because if I die, you’ll have no one. I decided not to go, but a big part of me still wishes I had.”

He wraps his arms around me and pulls me to his chest. “You don’t have to face him alone.”

“I don’t care if I face him alone. I just want this to be over. I want him to suffer and die. I want to stop running for our lives. I want to stop seeing . . .” Melkin’s dark eyes, burning with fury as I drive my knife into his chest. Oliver’s neck bleeding and bleeding. The white cross on my father’s grave.

“Stop seeing what?” His voice is gentle, but he holds me like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he lets go.

I tell myself I want to shatter the deafening silence inside of me and feel, but I know I’m lying. I can’t wait to shove the guilt and grief away from me. Can’t wait to take a breath without suffocating on the blood of everyone I’ve lost. I flinch away from truth and into the silence.

The comfort it offers is cold and empty. A barren tomb cutting me off from the rest of the world. I should be clawing at the sides, screaming my lungs out, and fighting to escape.