“The Romano empire has a charter,” Vance said. “It goes back eighty years.”

I heard the sound of footsteps returning down the hallway outside my door.

The handle of the maintenance door began to jiggle.

“Clara?” Vance said. “Are you there?”

The wooden door creaked, a thin sliver of light from the platform cutting through the darkness.

The handle jiggled harder.

I pressed my back against the damp brick wall and pulled the blanket tighter over the infants.

Luca whimpered, and I held my breath, pressing my hand gently over his small chest.

“Who’s in there?” a rough voice called out from the other side of the door.

I slipped backward into the shadows of the utility closet, my boots squelching in a puddle of greasy water.

The call with Vance was still active, the faint warmth of the phone pressed against my cheek.

“Clara,” Vance’s whisper came through the receiver. “Get to the south exit. There’s an old service grate that leads to the alley behind the theater.”

I didn’t answer.

I shoved the phone into my pocket and scrambled through the darkness, finding a rusted iron ladder.