“Because neither of us has the technology to destroy the other?” Rachel asks, holding his gaze while she repeats a line I’d heard Jared say countless times. My stomach drops. Now is not the time to call the Commander on his actions. Those in the courier trade are well aware of the animosity between Commander Chase and his former major James Rowan. Most of the missions to Rowansmark are spy assignments disguised as ordinary trade negotiations. The Commander has made it his business to know everything James Rowan might be up to.

I have to wonder if Jared disappeared because Rowan has been busy doing the exact same thing to the Commander.

“Interesting theory,” he says. “Did you hear that from your father after he opened the package?”

“He never opened it. At least, not in front of me.”

“Where is it?”

“He hid it on the journey back.”

“Because he planned to return it to Rowansmark?” His voice cracks the air, full of fury, and Rachel jumps.

“He would never do that! He’s loyal to Baalboden.”

“You have one chance to prove that to me. Where did he hide it?” His sword arm flexes as he raises the blade toward Rachel’s face.

“I’m not sure. But I know where we went, and I know Dad’s hiding places,” she says, sounding so confident that I’m sure the Commander will believe he needs her to help find the package. Now, he needs to be convinced to send me with her. There’s no way I’m letting Rachel travel the Wasteland alone with the Commander’s Brute Squad.

“I know where it is,” I say.

All eyes turn toward me. I find the Commander’s dark gaze and hold it steadily.

“More secrets?” he asks softly, and pivots toward me, his sword pointing with unwavering accuracy toward my throat. The Brute Squad guards on either side of me tighten their grip on my arms, but I refuse to struggle. I’m not going to give the Commander that satisfaction.

“Rachel’s right. She knows where they traveled and what safe houses they used on the journey. But Jared spoke to me about the package. Things he refused to share with Rachel.”

The Commander’s expression is tinged with malice, and the tension in the room coils within me like a living thing.

“Tell me what he told you,” he says.

I can’t. Revealing information now would cancel out my usefulness and possibly Rachel’s as well. Plus, I don’t have any information to reveal. I’m betting he wants the package enough not to call my bluff. I don’t want to consider the consequences if I’m wrong.

“I’m not sure I can accurately describe the locations he gave me. I believe I need to see it to know it,” I say. “Rachel can guide me to the general location, and I’ll take it from there.”

He snarls at me. “Do you think you’re that valuable to me, Logan McEntire?”

There’s no right answer. If I say yes, I’ll be killed to prove my words false. If I say no, any chance I have of accompanying Rachel will disappear, and I’ll probably be killed for my interference.

“My value is for you to decide. Sir.” I nearly choke on the sir.

The Commander slams the flat of his sword onto my shoulder, slicing into my skin. Rachel gasps and slides her hand beneath her cloak. I have a terrible suspicion there’s a weapon hidden in there.

She’s going to get herself killed defending me if I can’t defuse this, but I don’t know how. My stomach clenches as I frantically run scenarios and try to see a way out of this. There isn’t one, unless the Commander believes we’re both necessary to getting him what he wants.

Please let him believe we’re necessary to getting him what he wants.

“Jared Adams has something I need,” he says. “You and the girl will get it back for me.”

Relief rushes through me. “I understand.”

He spits his words at me. “You listen to me, inventor who likes to play with words. You are replaceable. The girl is replaceable. I won’t hesitate for a second to spill her blood and find another willing to take her place. Do you really think the life of any one citizen matters in comparison to what I decide Baalboden needs?”

Before I can do more than draw in a sharp, panicked gasp of air, he spins on his heel and lunges toward Rachel, his sword raised.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

RACHEL

“Rachel!” Logan throws himself forward, struggling to get free of the Brute Squad holding him in place.

My back slams against the table as the Commander’s sword flashes by me and plunges deep into the chest of the guard beside me. The man makes a wet gurgling noise in the back of his throat and reaches one hand up to grasp the blade embedded in his chest. Blood pools beneath his palm and slides along the silver in a single, sinuous streak as he slowly crumples to the floor. His eyes lock on the Commander’s until the knowledge within them hardens into the far-seeing gaze of the dead.

I can’t remember how to move.

The Commander places one booted foot on the guard’s shoulder, grabs the hilt of his sword with two hands, and tugs. The blade comes free with a damp, sucking sound, flinging stray droplets of blood into the air as the ring on the Commander’s finger glistens wetly beneath the torchlight.

I gag, and the Commander holds his bloody sword to my throat. My knife feels useless in my numb fingers. It was so much easier to imagine killing a man before I realized what that looked like.

“I warned you I’d teach you your place,” the Commander says softly.