Chapter 16 · Subject Seven Is Still Breathing

The first file smelled like ash and old blood.

Mark's hands shook as he flipped the cover open. Toria had dumped all six folders on the table between them—cracked leather bindings, water-stained edges, pages that stuck together when you tried to pry them apart. She'd gone back to sharpening her knife. The scrape of steel on whetstone filled the silence.

Ella sat in the corner. Still wasn't talking. Still had that hollow look in her eyes like someone had scooped out everything behind them.

"How long do I have?" Mark asked.

Toria didn't look up. "Church sends collection rounds every three days. Last one was yesterday morning."

"So two days."

"Less. They're jumpy. Might move it up." She tested the blade against her thumb. A thin line of red appeared. She wiped it on her pants. "You got tonight. Maybe tomorrow if you're lucky."

Mark pulled the lamp closer. The first page was written in cramped handwriting, the ink faded to brown. Imperial script. He could read maybe one word in five now, after two weeks of listening to Ella mutter prayers and Veran bark orders.

**Subject One. Designation: Hero. Age: 16.