Chapter 13: Breaking Into the Institute

The bolt cutters were heavier than Mara had expected.

She'd carried them from Gordon's grandmother's shed to the road in a canvas bag, and the weight had shifted with every step — a dull, pendulum knock against her hip that she'd felt long after she set the bag down in the ditch and they crouched in the dark waiting for the Institute's single roving security light to complete its arc. The light moved like a slow second hand. Mara counted. Ninety seconds per rotation, give or take five.

"Give or take five is not precise enough," Gordon said quietly, behind her.