"You've got a lot of explaining to do," Miles says as we skulk through the night, dodging the roves of searching troops. We stick to the shadows as we work our way through campus.

"I could say the same thing," I shoot back. "What are you even doing out here?" As overjoyed as I am to see one of my oldest, most trusted friends, a slight panic weaves it's way through my veins. What does Miles being in the Outlands mean for his own survival?

Miles lets out a soft snort. "Isn't it obvious? I'm here for you."

My face wrinkles, genuinely perplexed. The Council never sends anyone after those who are taken by Outlanders. Not for my brother, and surely not for Markee and me. What changed?

Miles ushers us past the mess hall to crouch in the shadow of the great building before continuing. "After you left, I campaigned with my platoon to follow you, but an official rescue party was never sanctioned."

The radio on Miles' belt crackles as a man with a voice like sandpaper asks for a report. Miles lifts the device to his lips, putting on a cold, confident tone. "All clear by the mess hall," he clips before hooking it back on his hip.

He has been leading his regiment away from where we actually are for a while now, and they seem none the wiser. I wonder how long until they give up and go home. A glance to the sky tells that dawn will soon be upon us.

Will they ever just give up?

"For a week, I tried to attend every military meeting I could, hoping to hear something, anything, about you, or what the Council would do about the giant hole in the wall. Apparently it was a big deal." Miles shrugs.

I fight a stiffening feeling. Somehow, I completely forgot about the gaping hole in the wall. It was Herald's biggest defense against the Outlands, and the Skinwalkers that reside there.

"Then two days ago, I discovered they were assembling a group for a mission in the Outlands," he continues. "Not a rescue mission, but to retrieve highly classified information."

Rhett scoffs beside me. "Highly classified, as in the key to change the course of history, along with the rest of us dying out here."

Miles' eyebrows furrow into an inky line in the dark. "I volunteered immediately. I figured if I could just get out here, I'd be able to find you and Markee, or at least someone who could point me in the right direction." His brow dips even lower. "Where is Markee anyway?"

My breath shudders, from either nerves or the mention of our best friend's name, I don't know. "She should be safe, as long as I bring that classified information back to the man who is keeping her."

Miles curses under his breath. "How are we going to do that? I hate to say it, Soph, but I don't think we can take on half of Herald's army." His words deepen the pit in my stomach. Without the cure, not only will Markee be stuck in Keir, but the rest of the Outlanders will continue to suffer.

I suddenly feel Luke's absence. It's a cold, empty feeling, like there's something missing from my side. My heart aches with worry. Luke sacrificed himself to give me time to escape, and I can only hope the soldiers haven't harmed him.

But Luke is resilient. He's survived so much terror, and I have to believe in him. He has to be okay.

"I might have an idea," Rhett says with a small grin. "Miles is right. We won't be able to steal the serum back from Dr. Tabb." Rhett's eyes are alight with something skin to hope as he continues. "She keeps notes—meticulous ones. And I just so happen to be her assistant, who works closely with those notes." He taps his temple with two fingers, the grin on his lips spreading to his ears.

"Rhett! You genius!" I whisper excitedly, slugging him in the shoulder playfully. "We still have a chance!"

"What? Am I missing something?" Miles' puzzled look darts between my brother and I. "I'm definitely missing something."

I turn to Miles, hope seeping into my chest and infusing into my limbs. "Didn't you know? Rhett has a photographic memory."