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Sentries patrolled the roof. I counted four, no, five, silhouettes moving against the stars. Many more would be inside. How many, we didn't know.

Beth appeared at August's side, her silver-streaked hair pulled back tight, her face carved from shadow and determination.

“Teams ready,” she said quietly. “Main doors on your signal. Esther's group will hit the east entrance thirty seconds later. That should pull their forces in two directions.”

August nodded. “And my group?”

“Servant passage. West side, behind the buttress.” Beth's eyes moved to me, then back to August. “You get inside while we make noise. Beatrice portals you to his quarters. Find Elias. End this.”

Such simple words for such an impossible task.

Around us, the Weavers were separating into their assigned teams. Women who had been strangers a day ago now moved together with quiet purpose. I watched Beatrice embrace an older woman I didn't recognize, holding her for a long moment, foreheads pressed together, words too soft to hear.

They were saying goodbye in case they didn't get another chance.

Mira was speaking urgently to Garrick, her hand on his arm, her expression fierce. He said something that made her press her lips together. Then, impulsively, she reached up and touched his face, just for a moment, her fingers against his jaw. He caught her hand before she could pull away and held it.

Neither of them seemed to know what to do next.

“Don't die,” Mira said finally. Not a request. A command.

“Yes ma'am.” Garrick's voice was rough. He released her hand slowly, reluctantly, and turned toward where August and I stood.

Mira watched him go with something raw and unfinished in her eyes.

Marigold stood with Beth's group near the main doors, her small frame nearly lost among the taller women. But I found her anyway, black wool against pale skin. She looked older than she had a week ago. Grief did that.

Our eyes met across the shadows. She didn't wave, didn't call out. Just lifted her chin, a small, fierce gesture that said I'm ready and I'm afraid and I'm doing this anyway.

There was so much of Syra in that look. And so much of herself.

I nodded back.

Ruth appeared at the edge of our group, her young face pale in the darkness. She would be with Beth's team, her illusions crucial for the main assault. But she hesitated, her gaze finding mine across the shadows.

August's attention shifted toward us. His lingering unease from the march came with it, the door he'd sensed but hadn't pushed against.

I kept my face still. Kept the door closed.

August pulled me into the deeper shadows behind the warehouse, away from the others.

For a moment, we just stood there. His hands found my face in the darkness, his thumbs tracing my cheekbones like he was memorizing them. Through the bond, he was holding on to the fear, the love, the desperate hope that we would both survive what came next.

He brushed against the closed door, not pushing, just acknowledging.

“Something changed,” he said. “During the march. After Ruth spoke to you.”

My heart stuttered. “August . . . ”

“I am not asking you to tell me.” His thumbs traced my cheekbones again, gentle. “I have spent my entire life having choices taken from me. I would not do the same to you.” He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice was rough. “Whatever it is, whatever she showed you, I trust that you are carrying it for a reason. And when you are ready to set it down, I will be here.”

My eyes burned. He was giving me permission to keep my secret. Giving me grace I wasn't sure I deserved.

“I love you,” I whispered. It was all I could say. All I could give him that was still true.

“I know.” His forehead pressed against mine. “And that is enough. Stay close to me in there.”

“I wasn't planning on going anywhere else.”