Chapter 3 - THE FORGED TRAIL
Alistair kicked open a side hatch leading into the old drainage aqueducts. "In here! Quick!"
They squeezed through just as the hounds burst into the hall, barking furiously. Navigating the dark, slick water channels, Marlo and Alistair emerged miles outside the main fortress perimeter, near the lower staging camps.
"We need proof," Marlo said, wiping mud from her face. "Medical reports aren't enough. Voss will claim I forged them or that you were corrupted by personal bias."
"The shipping ledgers," Alistair realized. "If Voss is trafficking 'defective' dragons, there has to be a paper trail with the quartermaster at the docks. The next transfer is scheduled for midnight before the culling."
"Then we have six hours to break into the main archive tower," Marlo said.
"Not we," Alistair corrected gently. "It’s too dangerous. I have authorization passes that might get me past the outer gates."
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"You don't know the layout of the archive quarter like the maintenance staff does," Marlo countered, her voice hard as steel. "I spent four years cleaning those rooms while looking for clues about Ren. You won't make it five steps past the lower foyer without my keys."
Alistair looked at her, seeing for the first time not just a grieving sister or a quiet stable hand, but a strategist who had been playing her own long game. "All right," he conceded. "Together."
