Without seeing the back of his hand slam into Rachel’s face.

My eyes find Quinn as he carefully navigates around a pile of debris before turning north, heading for the compound. The others are already out of sight.

“He helped me escape from the soldier who had me.”

“I thought he didn’t approve of violence,” I say, though what I really mean is that I’m thankful he chose to stand by us.

By her.

“I don’t think he does. He was trying to get me to go into the city, and when I refused, he decided to stay with me rather than leave me to face the Commander alone.” Her voice catches. “I didn’t ask him to put himself in danger for me.”

Neither did I, but I’m grateful he did. And after witnessing just how far Rachel is willing to go for revenge, I’m hoping Quinn will be willing to watch out for her anytime my back is turned. Not that I’m going to tell Rachel that. I like my internal organs right where they are.

“We’ll punish the Commander,” I say. “But we’ll do it with a plan. With an exit strategy that doesn’t involve either one of us dying.”

“Do you have a plan?” she asks as we trudge up the hill that leads to our camp.

I swallow hard and refuse to look at her, because I don’t. I don’t know how to punish the Commander and still get the survivors to safety like I promised. I don’t know how to defeat two armies just to get to one man.

But I’m going to figure it out. I’m not going to let the Commander take another person from me. Once I deliver the survivors to Lankenshire, I’ll devote every minute of every day to tracking him down. . . .

Tracking.

Wristmarks.

Sonar.

“Yes.” My voice grows stronger as an idea—a bold, risky, nearly impossible idea—hits me. “I have a plan. It’s going to take several weeks to build the tech I need, but I have a plan.”

Her eyes meet mine as we crest the top of the hill. The camp is already in motion, with people hurrying to tear down shelters and pack up supplies. A few survivors head toward me. No doubt with questions, arguments, or worries they need me to solve.

“Can you build the tech while we travel through the Wasteland?” Rachel asks.

“Yes. As long as I have the right supplies, I can build anything.”

“Too bad you can’t come up with a way to let Lankenshire know we’re coming. And to warn the other city-states about Rowansmark.” Enthusiasm lights up her voice. “Or invent something that would let us know where Rowansmark’s battalions are and how fast they’re traveling. Maybe you could—”

“Hold on a second.” I laugh a little. “The Cursed One destroyed the infrastructure that existed between cities in the old civilization, and we can’t build more without risking another attack. If there are no wires laid between city-states, we can’t build technology that would allow us to communicate with them. Or spy on them. We can, however, build tech that is individually targeted at specific people or local tasks by using sonar. The Commander used the science of sound to keep tabs on his people, and now I’m going to use it to destroy him.”

“So let’s get these people to Lankenshire, convince them to offer us shelter, and then hunt down the Commander and obliterate him. We’ll use your plan if it’s working. We’ll do it my way if our other options run out. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Best Case Scenario: I can build the invention that is slowly taking shape inside my mind, and we destroy the Commander before he ever sees us coming.

Worst Case Scenario: The invention fails, the Commander somehow anticipates us, or Rachel gets impatient with my plan and decides sacrificing herself is an acceptable price for delivering justice.

Before I can think of any solutions to those scenarios, a huge boom echoes across the ruins. We spin on our heels and scan the blackened city laid out before us. Nothing moves, but a cloud of ash and dust rises from the direction of the gate.

Seconds later, another boom shatters the stillness. The cloud of dust grows thicker.

“They have a battering ram,” I say as yet another crash ratchets my pulse into overdrive.

“How long before they get through the gate?” Rachel asks, and the same dread that fills me is written all over her face.

“It’s an unstable structure. It could take them days to make a dent, or the whole thing could slide into Lower Market in a matter of hours. We have to get everyone inside the compound now.”

As the battering ram slams repeatedly against the pile of debris blocking the gate, I hurry into camp praying that we still have enough time to tunnel to the surface and leave this place of death and destruction behind us.

Chapter Eight

RACHEL

“Get to the compound,” I shout as Logan grabs Drake’s arm and begins giving him a list of instructions about the tunnel, the wagons, and erasing all traces of camp on the hillside. “Grab your travel pack and anything else that still needs to be loaded on a wagon and move.”

“We can’t sleep inside the Commander’s compound!” a woman says even as she snatches up a pile of blankets that were drying on the soft spring grass and looks around to see what else she can carry. Several others voice their agreement.

“Why not?” Logan asks as Drake hurries off toward the compound.

“Because”—the woman’s hand flutters toward her throat—“it’s forbidden.”