The blueprints of Syn Hotels were a mess of red lines and faded ink.
I sat in the corner of the library, the computer monitor casting a pale glow on my face. The file I had dug up from the municipal archives was old. It dated back to the original construction, before the scandal, before the bankruptcy.
"Load-bearing pillars on the north face," I muttered, tracing a line on the screen. "Ventilation shafts that bypass the main lobby. A service elevator that hasn't been serviced in five years."
It wasn't a building. It was a tomb waiting to be sealed.
If I couldn't fight Nathaniel's army, I had to use the terrain. I memorized the layout of the basement. The exits. The blind spots where cameras wouldn't reach. I needed an escape route for Anna. For myself.
For the students being harvested.
"Architecture?"
I snapped the window minimized.
Lia stood behind me. She was leaning against a bookshelf, her arms crossed. She didn't look happy.
"I thought you had detention," she said.
