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He appears down the hallway, his tall frame blotting out the living room lights. “Maybe you thought since you wasted your entire day waiting on your sister that I wouldn’t be here for your report?”

“I don’t want you to have access to this apartment.” I force myself not to shrink away from him. “You should ring the doorbell like a normal person.”

“You know I’m not a normal person.” He stops only a few feet from me, his face in shadow.

“What are you then?”

“Nothing you could understand.” He pushes past me, his arm brushing mine. “Tomorrow night you will be here on time. If you aren’t in this apartment at dark, I will have to assume you and your sister are going back on our deal.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “Already resorting to threats? That didn’t take long.”

“Threats?” He stops, his body going still in a way that starts alarm bells ringing in my mind. It’s predatorial, too precise. And when he turns his head to look at me over his shoulder, I swallow hard. “The word ‘threat’ implies possible consequences. After all, threats can be empty. I assure you, mine are not. The consequences for your actions are quite real.” He turns back around and resumes his long stride to the elevator. “I’ll see you here tomorrow at nightfall.”

“Why do you need blood?” I ask.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even hesitate as the elevator opens for him. When he’s gone, I slump against the wall, the bravado leaving my system like water evaporating from the sea.

* * *

Losingmy tail turns out to be easier than I thought. After a quick rundown of the hotel’s layout, I find the back loading docks with several areas of entry. I take the stairs down, stopping every so often to listen for footsteps. When I reach the ground floor, I wait more but don’t hear anyone pursuing me—yet. I find the inner hallway that runs behind the downstairs ballroom and creep slowly until I see signs for the loading dock. Inside, there are pallets full of laundry, canned food, chairs, tables, and plenty more. I keep close to them, trying to stay in their shadows as I spot an exit door between two loading bays.

I’m not an idiot. There’s no doubt I’m on cameras, but I have to hope I can get out and away before someone comes for me.

Steeling myself, I take a deep breath and sprint across the concrete to the door, then shove it open. An alarm immediately sounds from within the hotel, but I don’t stop. I book it down the back steps, across the pavement and out across the street. Just shy of running, I head down the sidewalk, keeping close to the buildings as I make my way toward the old Capitol Deli. It used to be a hopping spot for senators to get photographed with their side pieces, but it closed during the first year of the plague.

Turning a corner, I stop and peek behind me. I gasp when I see movement two blocks back. I hold my breath, standing completely still as I watch. Nothing moves. I keep staring until I have to blink, but still, nothing. My Secret Service agent has never been remotely this stealthy. I pull back around the corner and lean on the brick. It was nothing. Just my imagination.

Still, I keep to the shadowy side of the buildings, not risking the glow of the half-moon overhead. The streetlights are still working here and there, but there are plenty of spots to keep to the shadows. I follow those spots, like jumping rocks in a stream, until I reach the Capitol Deli.

The windows still have images of sandwiches and bagels plastered along the front, though they’re dusty now, grass growing in the sidewalk cracks out front.

I dart to the door and panic for a second when it doesn’t open. Pulling harder, it swings out smoothly, and I step inside.

“Juno?” I whisper into the darkness. Chairs are stacked upside down on top of tables, as if it’s simply closed for overnight and will open back up first thing in the morning to serve people their breakfast. But the smell in here tells a different story—stale and faintly rotten. Whatever food was left behind in the back hasn’t kept. I edge in deeper and walk along the bar where patrons used to sit and chat as someone behind the counter made sandwiches. “Juno!” I whisper louder.

“Back here.”

Relief floods me, my shoulders unbunching some as I pass the bar and push open the door into the kitchen. The smell is worse back here.

“You’re late.” Juno hurries over to me and pulls me into a hug. “I only have minutes.”

“Okay.” I hug her back, a sense of nostalgia washing over me. “What’s going on?”

“I can’t talk anywhere. Only here, and here isn’t safe.” She keeps her voice at a whisper. “Youmustwork with Valen. He’s on our side.”

“Our side?” I keep my voice low. “What’s the other side?”

“Shh.” Her voice takes on a sharp urgency. “He wants to help us, but we have to help him, too. Whatever he asks of you, give it. Don’t trust him, not with your life, but meet his demands. Do what he asks. It’s the only way out of this.”

My blood goes cold at the stark terror that seems to roll off her in waves. Far from the put-together, nearly haughty president I met earlier in the day, Juno is shaking in my arms.

“What is happening?”

“They want to take over. They wanteverything. I made a deal, a bad deal. But I had no choice. It’s the only way?—”

Something bumps against the back door, and all the short hairs on my body stand on end.

Juno jumps, her shivering kicking up a terrifying notch. “I have to go. You’ll be safe. He’s promised me. But youmustdo what he asks.” She pulls away from me, her eyes barely shining in the low light. “We won’t be able to talk after this. No phones. Nowhere is safe. Captain Howard is your contact. Give him anything you learn from Valen, and it’ll make its way to the right people.”