“Let’s go,” she says.

I estimate it takes nearly twenty minutes to make our way to the next beacon. I lower Jodi, and she quickly grabs the tech. This time, I don’t pull the wires free. Instead, I remove the entire transmitter and slide it into the inner pocket of my cloak. One transmitter stolen. Six to go.

When Jodi raises a brow at me, I say, “I’ve run the calculations. Hodenswald doesn’t need all of these to be protected. And I have use for them.”

She doesn’t argue. Quickly, we replace the tech and head south again. It takes nearly two hours to alter twenty-nine more beacons and steal two more transmitters. We only have four more beacons to go. We’ve fallen into a rhythm. Run, jump, examine the streets for problems, assess the next jump, and then start all over again. At this rate, we’ll easily finish and be back inside Lyle’s home before dawn.

We hit the roof that holds the next beacon and head for the eaves. Jodi lies on her stomach. I grab her ankles and brace my boots against the lip of stone at the edge of the building. Then, she inches her way over the side and jackknifes at the waist in order to reach the tech. The beacon comes free of its moorings, and then I hear something that freezes the breath in my lungs—the soft thud of someone landing on the roof behind me.

I whip my head around and find Sharpe stalking toward me, his expression a mask of cold, ruthless authority, his sword already in his hand.

“Don’t bother pulling her up,” he says. “You’ll be dead before you can draw the breath to tell her she’s next.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

LOGAN

“Brace yourself!” I yell. Pushing my feet against the stone ledge, I haul Jodi up far enough that she can reach back and grab the top of the roof with her arm. Letting go of her ankles, I flip over into a crouch in time to see Sharpe skid to a stop in front of me, his sword already falling toward my neck.

Lunging forward, I slam into his knees, and send both of us flying onto the rough, gritty stone beneath us. He raises his sword arm and slams the hilt into my face. Pain explodes across my cheekbone, and I throw myself to the side to avoid the next hit.

Sharpe rolls with me, his sword flashing past my head in a swing so powerful, I can feel the breeze as the blade slices the air. For one second, the momentum of his missed strike keeps him off-balance. I ball up my fist and punch him in the jaw.

It’s like punching the side of a wagon.

He shakes off the blow, and raises his sword arm again. I pull my knees up to my chest as his blade falls toward me, plant my boots on his stomach, and kick as hard as I can.

His sword nicks me as he skids backward. Fewer than five yards separate us. I lunge to my feet, and he does the same. Yanking my sword out of its sheath, I raise it and face him down even while I listen for evidence that other trackers might be closing in.

I don’t hear anything, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t coming. Somehow, Sharpe followed us through the city. Somehow, he knew to come up to the roof. If he knows, others might know, too.

I need to end this soon, or we aren’t getting off this rooftop alive.

“How did you find us?” I ask.

The cold ruthlessness of his expression has nothing on the viciousness in his voice. “When you expect people to behave like criminals, you take precautions in case you need to follow them later.”

I remember the way he stared at me when we first met Lyle. The way his hand slapped my shoulder and held on tight while he asked me if we’d met. The way his fingers pressed too hard against the neckline of my cloak before he let me go.

“You put a tracking signal on me, didn’t you?”

“You’ve led me on quite a chase tonight. Couldn’t figure out why I was getting a ping off your signal but couldn’t see you on the streets.” He circles me, slowly edging closer. “Took me a while to figure out I needed to move to the rooftops.”

His sword flashes, and I parry, spin, strike, and parry again before we break apart. The power of his blows reverberates up my arms. He’s better than good. He’s an efficient, well-trained machine with more experience and more strength than me.

“Why would you think to put a tracking signal on me in the first place?” I ask, mostly to buy myself a little breathing room. His swordsmanship is superior to mine. Maybe if I keep him talking, I can find a chink in his armor to use to my advantage.

He sneers as we dance around each other, looking for openings. “Liars always have the same tells. You and the Commander? You’re both liars.”

I sidestep a swing and slap the flat of my blade against his back as he passes. My face hurts like I ran cheek-first into a wall, and blood is steadily dripping off my jaw.

“I never lied to you.” I slide to the right to mirror his movements. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jodi move away from the edge of the building.

Sharpe jumps forward, his sword slicing toward my chest. I block the blow, but his leg lashes out and sweeps my feet out from underneath me.

I hit the ground and roll, but he’s already on me. He lands with a knee in the middle of my back, grabs a fistful of my hair, and yanks, exposing my throat.

“You lied,” he says while the moonlight gleams along the length of the blade he’s raising toward my throat. “I recognize you. I can’t place how I know you, but we’ve met. And you lied about it. You made sure you kept strong eye contact with me while you did it, too. You’re smart enough to realize that liars usually glance away as they lie, but not smart enough to know that the really good liars try too hard to look you in the face.”