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Lila and Dixon panted, their hands on their knees, gulping air. The hooded intruder had led them on a chase throughout the compound. They’d almost closed the gap before the figure had darted between two cabins.
When they turned the corner, the figure had vanished.
Connell raced to their side, a half-dozen purplecoats at his heel. “What happened? My people said they saw two outsiders sprinting through the compound.”
“Some asshole broke into our cabin.”
Connell’s brow furrowed. “Go search the area,” he ordered his people.
The six purplecoats sprinted away, all headed in different directions.
“Is anything missing?” Connell asked.
“We hadn’t gone inside yet.”
“What happened to your face?”
Lila touched her cheek gingerly. “The porch beat me up.”
Connell led the pair back to their cabin, drawing his tranq gun before he opened the door. He led with his weapon outstretched and pointed toward the floorboards.
Lila followed him, her tranq gun drawn as well, wincing at the purple toilet paper unfurled throughout the space. It hung from the exposed ceiling, trailed over the couch, and wound around the computer. It even snaked through the various tables and chairs.
Connell sighed and holstered his gun at his hip. “I’m sorry about this.”
“About what?”
“It’s the week of the winter solstice. The kids’ studios and workshops are closed. Many of them have far too much free time on their hands.”
A prank?
Connell nodded. “Some of them don’t like it when outsiders stay here. They believe that you’re all spies for the government militia or the highborn families. I thought Mòr had finally put the kibosh on this sort of behavior last winter, but it looks like the lesson didn’t stick. The idiots should know better than to try it right now.”
“Why?”
“Because she doesn’t have the energy to sit at trial these days, not for petty bullshit. Those sorts of cases are going through me, and everyone knows I’m a damn sight harsher.” He stepped over the purple paper and entered the kitchen, snatching an ice pack from the freezer. He tossed it to Lila. “I’ll send for Dr. McCrae.”
“I’m okay. It’s just a bruise. I hardly need a doctor.”
“You’re damn sure not okay. You got that on my watch. Did the punk hit you?”
“No, the door smacked me when it opened, and I fell into the bench.” She placed the ice pack on her cheek, wincing as the cold shot through her. “How’d you know this would be in the freezer?”
“It’s mostly other purplecoats who stay in these guest cabins, all visiting from other compounds. Training can get you pretty banged up. We always keep the freezers stocked.”
Lila recalled Camille’s wrist and lip at breakfast. Her own face would look just as bad by the evening, a trained militia chief bested by some rebellious teenager with a grudge.
She stepped carefully toward her computer and jostled the screen. Her snoop programs had not logged any new activities. After a quick check in her bedroom, she found her star drives exactly where she’d left them. “Nothing seems amiss. Truth be told, there isn’t anything to find. My work is encrypted, and the transcripts are still at the shop.”
Dixon emerged from his bedroom, shaking his head.
“Good,” Connell said. “If you find anything missing or out of place later, I want to know about it. This could have been the mole’s work. I intend to treat it as such until I know otherwise.”
“It’s stupid to show your ass when you don’t need to.”
“Maybe the mole’s desperate. We’ve gotten outside help now.”
“You had outside help with Dixon and Tristan.”
