Page 129 of First Offense

“You think he’s going to send us more cracked-out Noir to fight?” Sorin asked, arching a white brow.

But Raven answered before Novak could. “It’s another kind of labyrinth.” She looked around. “A maze to escape the mountain range.”

“We can just fly over it,” Zian pointed out.

Raven looked at him. “But not for hundreds of miles. We have to stop to rest, right?”

“And you think he’s managed to arrange traps at every potential stop?” He sounded incredulous, and I rather agreed with that assessment.

Then Novak said, “Trackers.”

I stared at him. “You think he can track us?” Then I recalled the ease with which he’d knocked everyone out in the yard of the former prison and frowned. “That’s… a reasonable guess.”

Novak grunted as though to say,It’s more than reasonable. It’s true.

And I supposed as someone who had been in the system as long as he had, he would know.

Which meant it might not have been an enchantment that had knocked them all out that day, but some sort of technology.

“We need a scanner,” I said, palming the back of my neck. “Something to see if he’s tagged us.” I was fairly certain he hadn’t tagged me, as I’d been aware and awake for most of my time here, but there were moments of sleep. So it was possible he’d managed to insert something into me. Maybe even via the food.

My lips twisted at the notion of such a breach in my privacy.

But given what I’d observed, I wouldn’t put it past the Reformer to do such a thing.

Someone cleared their throat, causing me to glance around the group, waiting for that person to speak. But the sound came from behind me.

I turned to find an inmate shuffling on his feet. “Yes?” Hostility dripped from that single word. These savages had tried to kill me. I didn’t take kindly to that.

Well, perhaps not all of them.

Novak had found a group huddled inside the prison, hiding from the chaos outside.

And this male had been part of that section.

So I lessened my stance but folded my arms to display my impatience.

“I-I was asked to g-give you this,” the male stammered. He held out a small package, the bow on top a delicate ribbon of black and white.

I didn’t accept the package. “From who?”

“The Re-Reformer.” He swallowed, his blue eyes wide and fearful.

Not very Noir-like.

Not very warrior-like either.

“What class were you from when you Fell?” I wondered out loud. “Servant class?”

He gulped. “N-no. No class.”

“No class?” I repeated. “You were never part of Nora society?”

He shook his head, then nodded, then shook his head again.

“It’s a yes-or-no question,” I said, my patience thinning.

“I was born… here.”