Chapter 29 · Scorched Earth Protocol

The sirens changed pitch. That was how I knew nobody was running a drill.

The first note was the high warning whine we practiced against every Tuesday. The second came up right beneath it—a low, iron grind that vibrated straight through my boots.

The boiler house was blowing its emergency seals on purpose.

"Vents!" Theron’s voice tore raw across the wall walk above us. "Nora, get out of the yard! The vents are opening!"

I was already sprinting.

Garrett had left six superheated steam mains under the stone, relics from back when Ironcrest used this place to melt silver ore. They weren't ever meant to exhaust inward toward the courtyard. But somebody in the pressure room had pulled the emergency trip-locks ninety seconds ago, and I didn't need three guesses to know whose coin bought the betrayal.

Steam tore through the iron floor grates like white-hot blades.

Two garrison guards went down screaming. Not on fire. Worse. The scalding vapor cooked them where they stood, heavy armor plates softening and sagging right off their frames like tallow.

"The panel!" I screamed over the roar.