The deep level of Cell Block Nine was a subterranean furnace. Sweat glued my dirt-stained tunic to my back as the subterranean heat radiated from the surrounding volcanic rock. Across the narrow walkway, Prudence sat with her back pressed to the damp stone wall, while Alicia picked uselessly at the raw, chafed skin beneath her iron suppression cuffs.
"There has to be a weakness," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the low, rhythmic groan of the massive steam pipes running along the high ceiling. I was crouching near the front of our cell, my eyes tracing every inch of the structural ironwork. "Every fortress built by human hands has a flaw. The stone, the guards' shift rotations, the food drop..."
