“Bad things happen when we split up,” I say.
“Worse things might if we don’t,” he counters. “I think this time will be different, though.” He goes on with his plan: Alexa and I will paddle Hope all the way back out to the edge of the sloping, narrow tunnel that led us to the water, where we first glimpsed the lodge and the plank walkway and the canoes—where Hope still seemed like herself, where Cass said things to hurt Alexa.
Perhaps this accounts for her silence. Cass collapsed in front of her, and some of the last words he said to her were of the meant-to-wound variety. Perhaps Alexa is in shock.
“Eden, help Alexa get Hope out of the canoe and as far into that tunnel as you can. From there, Alexa, I need you to stay with her. Here”—our boat dips a little—“use this syringe on her if she’s out of her mind when she wakes up. Eden, once they’re settled, try to break your way into the lodge.”
He says it like he’s asking me to lie down in a field of wildflowers on a sunny summer afternoon. As if it should be the easiest thing in the world.
And of course he has more than one syringe. It must have been in his other pocket.
“What if they see us? What if they shoot us?” I ask. Blow darts could come from any direction—being out in the open canal seems like it’d make us easy targets.
“I’ll make sure they don’t.”
“And how are you going to do that?”
He takes a loud, deep breath. “By turning myself in.”
Earlier, when he said he meant to walk right in and ask for the things we hope to find, I thought his plan was of the knives-at-throats variety. That was bad enough—this is even worse.
No. No, no. “No,” I say. “They’ll kill you.”
“They won’t, I told you before. They should, for all I’ve stolen from them—but they won’t.”
“And why’s that?”
“I’m captain of the Deliverers, one of the commanding leaders of the Resistance. My people trust me.” I see where he’s going with this, and it gives me a sick, sick feeling. “I’m of excellent use to them alive. Use me as their spy and they’ll have direct access to the entire Resistance, all the leaders who’ve hidden themselves so well. I know who they are; I know where they are. I know how to get to them. If the Wolves were working through me, they’d easily be able to take down a good lot of their opposition—maybe all of it.”
A wave of rage roils in me. At him, for never mentioning just how valuable he is to them. At me, for not putting things together before now. “This . . . is, like, the worst plan.”
“It’s better than us all getting killed,” he says.
“Is it?” I’m not so sure.
“It definitely is,” he says. “We’re going to capsize this whole damn war, Eden. As long as you find it in time.”
“It the Atlas Project science, or it the cure?” I glance briefly at Alexa, worried we’ve said too much in front of her—but she is still expressionless, lost in her own head. Hopefully she’ll snap out of it when it comes down to it. I can’t pull off our half of the plan on my own.
“Yes. Both, either.” He runs his hands through his hair. “Find the lab, go from there. They’re both pretty crucial, and we’ll have some gaping vulnerabilities if we don’t make it out with at least one of those.”
No pressure at all. “Any idea where to look for said lab?” The lodge has at least two levels, maybe another hidden by the thick trees—they could have tucked it deeply inside any of them. And the cure, assuming Lonan’s intel holds up and there even is a cure, is likely buried even deeper. Not to mention how deeply they must have buried the research and development plans for the Atlas Project, information so secret Lonan hasn’t even told the guys about it.
“In the place that’s hardest to get to, I’d guess,” he says. “Your judgment is as good as mine.”
It is both the most fortifying, and the most terrifying, thing he could say.
I hate him for putting himself in this position. I hate him for putting me in this position. There are so many ways this could go wrong. Either we succeed, or we are catastrophic failures.
I imagine the Wolves are sandcastles, easily crushed and easily washed away. I imagine there will be a day when they are nothing but a memory.
I imagine that day will start tonight. I plan for it to start tonight. Success is my only option. Because as much as I hate Lonan’s plan, I have to admit it’s a more strategic approach than going in all at once. If he can create a diversion, and if I time things right, I may be able to slip in under the radar, especially if I can find a different way in. There was stone behind the foliage—maybe there’s a way to scale the wall.
“Won’t they come looking for Hope and me once they see you’re alone?” I say, my last holdout.
“I’ll tell them you’re dead. That Hope drowned you, and that I knocked Hope out and left her up in the trees where Phoenix and Cass were taken down. If they search there, it will buy us some time.” And then he adds, “I’d be surprised if they don’t have a way to monitor their spies’ vitals—I can’t tell them Hope is dead because they’ll likely be able to verify that she’s not.”
“Do you want your knife back?”
“No, you should keep it,” he says. “No way they’ll buy I’m turning myself in if I’m armed. I can defend myself the old-fashioned way if it comes down to it.”
Fists and fury, I assume. He is so quick with this plan, so sharp. As a Deliverer, I realize, Lonan has had years of experience in strategic efforts against the Wolfpack. His plan sounds too risky to me, but he’s managed to keep himself alive this long. It gives me a little more confidence.
I have no more arguments. Alexa, for her part, when we press her to finally come out of her fog, seems content to Hope-sit while Lonan and I are actively on the offensive.
“Okay, then,” I say. “Let’s do this.”
Alexa will join me in our original canoe, we decide, while Lonan continues in the other one toward the entrance to the lodge. It’s a risk—if they’ve paid close enough attention, they’ll notice Lonan isn’t in the red-tipped canoe anymore. But this way, we’ll have to move Hope only once, after Alexa and I have paddled all the way back out to where the far end of the wooden walkway meets the stony, narrow opening of the tunnel-cave. It’s worth the risk to conserve our strength. Lonan holds both canoes steady until Alexa has climbed all the way in.
“Don’t forget, Eden”—Lonan’s voice is close and quiet—“your mind is stronger than your circumstances.”
And then his palms cup my face, his gentleness totally at odds with the lightning bolt he sends coursing through me. He slides his hands up until his fingers are in my hair. Our lips meet: I taste hope, desperation, bitter memories on his. I’m sure he tastes the same on me. Though I’ve had a hundred kisses before this one, I’ve never known one so layered. I’m surprised to find I want to keep peeling back the layers until I’m acquainted with everything that’s underneath.