Troy indeed.

I’m breathing heavily, all but ready to cease fighting, when I remember.

The regional leaders and their children. They might be in the dungeons below the building.

My pulse accelerates. Oh God, they’re trapped.

I begin to back up.

Montes looks over at me, a warning in his eyes when he sees what I’m doing. “Serenity—”

“The prisoners—they’re below the building.” I can’t even fathom how close I came to forgetting, swept up in the action as I had been.

“Call Heinrich, tell him to hold fire.”

I don’t wait for Montes to respond. I swivel on my heel, dashing back the way I came, drawn back to the dungeons below the building.

The king curses, and I hear martyr amongst the oaths.

I don’t care what he thinks. There are children down there.

I head back through the main entryway, hopping over dead bodies. The king isn’t at my back, so I take it he’s getting ahold of Heinrich rather than chasing after me.

Ignoring the elevator, which could be out of commission, I storm down the stairs, descending deeper and deeper into the earth.

I ignore the prickly sensation that breaks out along my skin as I feel the walls press in on me. My boots echo as they slap against the ground.

When I see royal detention center stamped over one of the levels I descend to, I exit out the nearest doorway.

The light from the stairwell pours out onto the dungeon’s floor. Beyond it, lightbulbs are spaced thirty feet apart.

I slow, my boots echoing. I try not to shiver as I head farther into the wet, subterranean chamber. This chill never gets any easier to bear.

I move down the first row of cells. There are at least three more rows, and several more floors. I’d better hope the king gets ahold of Heinrich soon, or else I’m a dead woman.

A pebble skitters in the distance.

I readjust my grip on my gun. “Hello?”

My voice echoes. I hear whispers in the distance, then silence.

“My name is Serenity Lazuli. I’m here to help.”

“Serenity?” someone calls out weakly.

I jog towards the voice, with is one row over.

The family is in a cell at the far end of the row, where the shadows seem deepest. A man, a woman, and two children huddle in the corner of it.

The regional leader of Kabul and her family.

“Nadia, Malik?” I ask them.

Nadia nods her head jerkily.

“I’m going to get you all out of here.” My eyes drop to the lock. It and the rest of the cage is made out of iron.

“Back up,” I say, lifting my gun. This is no safe extraction, but I’m out of options.

I fire off two shots before the lock splits open.

For once, this feels like the right thing, saving instead of killing.

I swing open the cell door, and the family files out.

Malik clasps my hand in his. “Thank you, thank you.” His whisper is hoarse. I don’t want to imagine what these four have been through since they got here.

I nod to them. “Go to the end of this hall and up the stairs as quickly as you can. I have to get the rest of the prisoners out.” I pause. “There are other missing regional leaders. Do you know anything about their whereabouts?”

“They’re not on this floor,” Nadia says. “We were it.”

That’s good to know.

We separate at the stairwell, Nadia and her family going up while I continue downwards.

I only just exit the stairwell when I hear sobs, coming from somewhere deep within.

“Hello?” I call out, striding down the first row.

The crying cuts off, but the prisoner doesn’t respond.

I tense when I hear footfalls behind me.

“I knew I would find you here,” a familiar voice says.

I turn.

Styx Garcia stands between me and the only exit out of here. He holds a gun, its barrel trained on my forehead.

I don’t know why the terrible ones always fixate on me. I suppose they think I’m a challenge. But I’m not.

I’m just death.

I adjust the grip on my own weapon. I have no idea how many bullets—if any—I have left.

“You fool,” I say. “You should’ve never come back for me.”

“You know why I like you?” he says, his eyes unnaturally bright in the dim light. “Because even when you’re cornered and held at gunpoint, you still have this confidence. I’m sure if I stripped you, I’d find a pair of brass balls between those pretty little legs.”

I begin to lift my weapon.

“Ah-ah,” he says, cocking his gun. “Lift that thing any higher, and I will blow your face away.”

I don’t believe he’ll shoot me in the head. I’ve seen too much of this man’s fucked-up interest in me to think he’d give me the easy way out. He wants me alive.

At least, for a time.

“… And if you’re dead, then who will free these prisoners?”

I lower my weapon back down.

“Good girl,” he says, and it’s so damn patronizing. “Now drop the weapon.”

My jaw tightens, but I don’t release the gun.

He takes a step forward, and my hand twitches. If he gets much closer, I will risk death to bury a bullet in that scarred flesh of his.

“Drop it,” he repeats.

“You’re a dead man, Styx,” I say. “You’ll never leave this place alive.”

The corner of his mouth lifts.