Thoughts of Sawyer tormented Julia all morning until Emma stuck her head through the lab doorway, her face awash with relief.

“Scanning team is back early.”

They jogged in hurried silence to the communications room, where the team was debriefing.

Julia’s heart raced, and her tongue was thick and heavy in her mouth with anxiety. When she pushed into the communications room behind Emma, she hurriedly checked for Sawyer, her nails digging into the palms of her hands.

She’d been worried. It mattered to her that he was okay. She couldn’t remember ever feeling like this when he’d been out on a mission before. The knowledge nagged at her, nibbling around the edges of her confidence.

The room was warm from the presence of so many bodies, the air damp and heavy from soaked clothes and equipment. Her nose wrinkled at the bitter scent of the sewer water.

He was here.

She halted. His skin was grimy, his eyes dark in the shadow of mud that scuffed his face. A wide scrape marred the edge of his strong jaw, beaded with dried blood. The collar of his shirt was unbuttoned and with his armor removed, it exposed a taste of the hard planes of his chest that made her breath hitch.

Thank God, he was alive.

She squeezed her eyes shut, imagining what they could have had if the world wasn’t so fucked up. Or, if he’d been honest with me. Resentment for what he’d kept hidden pricked at her. She wanted to imagine they could be happy, that they could have a relationship, just like in the pre-invasion days. Like normal people.

She opened her eyes. It wasn’t ever going to happen.

Darr was behind Sawyer. He was a wreck. His shoulder was bloody, and a thick, white gauze pad pressed against his collarbone. Dirty hair obscured his eyes, and he was scowling, but Julia was rapidly concluding that pissed-off was his natural facial expression.

Leven and Jakub were absent. Her knuckles whitened on the pencil she clutched, knowing they must be dead.

Around her, desperation hung in the air, thick and suffocating like smog. It soaked into her skin and skimmed the features of the assembled base. Some she knew, residents of the Command Base before her. Others were scavengers, recently arrived from Crossness. Panic and fear tugged at their faces and twisted their hands as they registered the bloody soldiers in front of them.

Certainty calmed her.

This was why her work had to take precedence. It could too easily have been Sawyer, or Garrick, or any of the others missing from this room. They had achieved small victories against the Chittrix, but they needed something more, and her work, the Sweeper, was their most realistic hope. She had to focus.

Fortunately, she was good at that, compartmentalizing her life so work was the priority, driving her forward. Intensity and commitment were what had led to the development of the Sweeper in the first place. Obligation had served her well, and it would continue to do so.

Her attention drew back to Sawyer. He was watching her, heat burning in his gaze, making every nerve in her body tingle. He smiled, and she returned the gesture but skirted away from him, heading for the far corner of the room where she perched on the edge of one of the desks. Sawyer tracked her, his face unreadable. She told herself she felt nothing but relief when he didn’t attempt to follow her.

Garrick raised his arms, gesturing for everyone to shut up. “People.” The hubbub in the room died, and everyone turned in his direction. Violet was at his side, radiating tension, her hand resting on the SIG tucked into the waistband of her navy cargo trousers. She glowered at Darr, who pointedly ignored the blast of her stare.

Garrick dropped his hands to his hips as he cast his eyes around the disheveled and downtrodden inhabitants of the room. “We have new information. Darr may have located the nest.” Garrick nodded, motioning for Darr to speak.

Darr scanned the room, his gaze obscured by unkempt hair. An irrational urge to storm up and wipe it out his eyes itched at Julia.

“Three of us left here, but I’m the only one still alive.” He scanned the group, moving from one frightened face to another. Garrick stood behind Darr, his solid presence lending credence to the scavenger’s words.

“We returned to the pumping station to see if there was anything to salvage after the Chittrix attack,” Darr continued. He stopped, his voice suddenly thick with emotion. He’d lost people, and no matter what he’d done or who he was, he was human, and empathy grazed Julia’s heart.

He continued, his voice gruff with purpose. “The detonation destroyed part of the pumping station wall. We found cable conduits on the other side, large enough for a man to walk through. Tunnels have been dug off them and they go deep.”

Darr hesitated.

“We followed one. It went down through solid fucking rock till it hit a river. We think it’s the original tributary that supplied Crossness. There’s a massive natural cavern, easily the size of a football field.” He spread his arms wide.

“The passageway opens about thirty feet above the river. We saw Chittrix in the water and what I believe is egg chambers below the waterline. It’s warmer. The water is warm in the sewers, have any of you noticed this?”

Heads turned as people exchanged looks.

Foster stuck his finger in the air, grimacing. “Not that I’m any kind of sewer expert, but hell yeah.”

Darr tilted his head in acknowledgement “They might be using plant thermogenesis to raise the temperature of the water to incubate their eggs.” He cast his gaze around the room. “Together, we have a chance. Two of my friends died coming out of there. I want to kill every last Chittrix and I need your help.”

His word hung in the air, as sleek, twisted alien shapes invaded everyone’s mind.

Foster’s expression was doubtful. “You had your chance earlier. You fucked that up. You chose to go it alone.”

Sawyer interrupted. “We all make mistakes.” He spoke his words slowly and carefully, avoiding looking at Darr. “Maybe we should talk about this.”

“No. I’m with Foster on this one,” Violet volunteered.

Julia fired her a sharp look, but Violet ignored her, her eyes trained on Darr.

Darr gave a muted snort. “Should have known you wouldn’t understand.”

“You—” Violet leaped forward, a lithe blur, one hand outstretched for Darr’s neck, the other going for her holstered weapon. He reacted just as swiftly, catching her waist, spinning her off balance and wrapping his forearm around her neck.

Panic eclipsed Julia, as Darr clutched Violet tight against him, one arm restraining her throat while the other gripped her wrist so tightly she dropped the SIG. It hit the floor with a loud clatter. Tension hummed in the air as hands found weapons and fingers tightened on metal.

Then, just as suddenly, Darr released Violet, and she stumbled forward, gasping for air. His attention returned to Sawyer and Garrick and his mouth pressed into an uncompromising line.

Violet coughed, stooped and submissive, then she dropped onto her hands and kicked her right leg out behind her, driving toward Darr’s ankles. Her leg connected with his boot, and he went down, feet knocked cleanly out from under him. Violet was nothing if not efficient.

Darr collided with the ground, the air expelled from his lungs in a surprised grunt. Violet was on him before he had time to draw breath, the nose of her SIG tucked under the soft meat of his chin. She rasped the gun against the unshaven bristles of his neck, forcing him to raise his hands in surrender.

“Never underestimate me. It will get you killed.” Violet jammed her gun against his Adam’s apple and raised her voice. “We might not agree with these idiots, but the Chittrix are our common enemy.”

“Violet.” Garrick jerked his thumb, and his sister lowered her weapon from Darr’s neck, but not before flicking the metal of the chamber against the angular bone of his jaw.

“Just remember, handsome.” She pushed herself up from his body but didn’t holster her gun.

Darr climbed slowly to his feet. His skin was flushed where Violet had pressed the gun to his throat. He shook his head, swinging his finger round the room in an accusatory arc. “I’m not asking you to like me. But our odds are improved if we work together.”

A shiver of unease crackled from the base of Julia’s spine to the nape of her neck. The scavengers were unpredictable and violent, and there was little she liked about Darr, but he was right.

Darr’s hand flew to his temples, and he swore under his breath, rubbing the skin under the unkempt hair that brushed his face. When he looked back up, his expression was glazed and pain danced around the tired creases of his eyes. There was more going on with Nathan Darr than he was admitting.

He stepped backward, toward the nearest exit, stress infecting his speech. “Think about it. I’m going to get cleaned up.”

A huddle of scavengers split to let him storm through as he exited the communications room.

Garrick gestured to Hardy. “Make sure Mr. Darr makes it to the infirmary in one piece.” He pointed at his sister. “Violet. We need to chat.”