Page 112 of Winterveil

The door opened with that same deafening, grinding sound.

Before them was a steel-walled bunker. A network of grooves on the floor emanated an odd, pulsing blue light. The web of lines intersected and then all led to a metal podium in the center of the room.

Upon it was the cube, emitting that same blue light. It was identical to the sketch Deckard had provided them. Giselle felt a flutter of relief.

“Great,” Julian said. “Let’s take it and get out.”

At that very moment, the door slid shut.

Something crashed. The room itself shook and the blue lights flickered. Instinctively, Giselle drew closer to her allies—her friends? They all huddled together, tensed and breathing hard, until the floor and the walls ceased their quaking and the blue lights burned out. Only a single fluorescent bulb on the ceiling provided any light.

Static crackled. And then a voice came through what must have been a hidden speaker.

“Well done,” said Deckard. “Once again you’ve impressed me with your quickness.”

Giselle could practically hear his smirk.

“It’s over, then?” Nadiya asked. Her gaze darted around the room. “We’ve won, right?”

“Almost,” said Deckard.

“Almost?” Giselle echoed.

“You’ve found the cube,” Deckard said, “now destroy it.”

The fluorescent light guttered, plunging them into darkness for a moment before hauling them out again. The floor vibrated under their feet.

It was Nadiya who first found her voice. “Destroy it? Why?”

“Because this isn’t an extraction mission,” Klaudia said. Her eyes were cold fire. “It’s an assassination. We’re not supposed to rescue Satow. We’re supposed to kill him.”

Deckard’s silence gave him away. There was nothing but the empty hum of static in the air.

“Let us the fuck out,” Julian said bleakly. “Now.”

“As soon as you complete your mission,” Deckard replied.

Giselle looked over at Crispin for some kind of explanation, some kind of clarity. Why would Deckard lie? Did he know that they would balk at the idea of murder—even if it was merely symbolic? Crispin’s expression revealed dismay, almost regret. And when he caught Giselle’s eye, he glanced pointedly away.

“No,” said Klaudia.

Deckard made a sound of disbelief, which caused the speaker to rumble. “No?”

“No,” Klaudia said again. “We’re taking another way out.”

“How?” Julian asked. He sounded more desperate than Giselle had ever heard him before.

“Your L-pills,” said Klaudia. “You have them, don’t you?”

Giselle’s hand moved to the pocket of her coat. As Deckard had instructed, she’d kept the pill on her person for the whole time they’d been in Traumstadt. Now her fingers brushed over the capsule and she felt a thrill of fear. Deckard had said they weren’t real, but . . .

Nadiya and Julian both removed their tablets. Anger darkened Nadiya’s face.

“Put them in your mouth,” Klaudia said. “Then bite down.”

Suddenly, Crispin blurted out, “Wait! Don’t—”

But it was too late. The lights flickered and the floor shook again, making her vision warp and ripple. Through the blur, Giselle saw Klaudia’s teeth flash as she slid the capsule onto her tongue. Julian followed suit, and then Nadiya. Any resistance Giselle had evaporated. She slid the pill between her teeth and bit down. A terrible acidic taste filled her mouth. Then a wave of blackness rose up and dragged her under.