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Again, and again, and again, I thought. Every time, I walk right into it. We were on different levels, and I needed to stop pretending like we weren’t. My mind hadn’t even been twisted enough to imagine he’d be capable of doing this.

“That’s better.” Clancy gave me an approving nod. “You understand now. Your role in this is over. The Red is gone. You’ve set this up so well, it’ll be easy to step in and finish it. You can rest now. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“You knew he’d be hurt—killed,” I said, choking on the words.

“Only because you guaranteed it,” Clancy said, victory making his dark eyes shine. “Who do you think sent a message to the trainers there, warning them to be on the lookout?”

There was a moment of skull-shattering pain and then I did scream. I screamed and screamed, slamming my hands against the glass until I had nothing left but a miserable, low sob to give. My fault. My fault. My fault.

“It’s a bit tragic, isn’t it? To give someone the one thing they desperately want, knowing that in the end, it only has the power to destroy them. He wanted so badly to know he wasn’t the only one like him—to fit in with us. It was pathetic.”

I lurched forward, vision flashing red, black, white, the invisible hands in my mind already driving toward him.

He couldn’t have this.

East River, Los Angeles, Jude, the research, Cole—he had taken so much, destroyed every trace of hope just as it solidified into something real in my hands. He can’t have this. We were too close. I was too close to finishing this.

Nico brought me up short, stepping in front of me brandishing the keys. Hands steady, expression focused, he unlocked each of the three deadbolts on the door.

“Leave!” he said, throwing the door open. “Disappear again, the way you always do! Get out of here before you ruin everything for us—call off the people you hired to get you out, just...disappear!”

Clancy stood up from his cot, a strange expression on his face.

“Don’t you get it?” Nico said. “You haven’t hurt the people who hurt you by doing this—you never will, and you won’t admit it to yourself! You can’t even get close to them. The only thing you’ve ever done is hurt the kids who wanted to help you. We all wanted to help you!”

“Then you should have stayed out of my way.”

“Why did you help the League get me out of Leda’s program?” Nico asked, holding his ground as Clancy sauntered toward him. “You gave them the plan to extract me in Philadelphia, didn’t you? But you were the one who left me behind at Thurmond—you left all of us, even after you told us we would get out together, we would be able to live without fear or shame or pain. Clancy...don’t you remember the pain?” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Why couldn’t you have just let me die like the others? You told me I had to live, but I wish I had just...I wish I had died, so you couldn’t have used me.”

Clancy was watching him, an expression on his face I’d never seen before.

“Why do you have to take every good thing we try to give you and break it into pieces?” Nico said. “You let them turn you into this...”

“This is who I am,” Clancy snapped. “I won’t let them change me. I won’t let them touch me. Not again.”

“No one is going to force you to have the procedure,” Nico said, his hands up, placating. “You’re free to go. You can disappear. Please...please...just call off the people who are coming. Please, Clance. Please.”

“I told you to stay out of this,” Clancy said, his voice shaking, even as he eyed the exit, even as I could see him considering it. “Why can’t you ever listen?”

“Please,” Nico begged.

“It’s too late,” he said, hands fisted in his sweatpants. “If you weren’t so stupid, you’d have realized that. Can’t you hear it? They’re on the roof. They’re here.”

“But you could get them to leave. You could make sure they go.”

He’s working him, I realized, half-amazed. Clancy was actually considering this, weighing Nico’s words. I didn’t move, too afraid I’d break the strange spell that had fallen over the room. My eyes kept darting between the two boys just outside of the cell. The tension in the room was softening, easing naturally.

“Who’s here?” came a soft voice from the doorway. “Who did you call to get you?”

And just like that, Clancy hardened again, shoving past Nico. “Hello, Mother. Were you hoping I’d leave without saying good-bye?”

“Who did you call?” she repeated, her stiff posture perfectly mimicking her son’s.

“Who do you think?” he said, all sweetness. “I called Dad.”

“I told you to leave!” I barked at her.

“No, stay,” Clancy said. “Clearly, last time didn’t take. We’ll have to try again, and this time Ruby won’t be there to help you.”

There was a beat of silence, and then the whole building rocked, shuddering under the force of some kind of explosion. Clancy looked past her, toward the door, and in that moment I was sure I had never hated him more.

The light caught the gun—my gun, the one that had been knocked out of my hands in the computer room—as Lillian Gray raised it and aimed at Clancy.

“I love you,” she said, and fired.

23

A SPRAY OF BLOOD BURST from his shoulder, knocking him back against the glass wall. But Lillian wasn’t finished. She took another step forward, ignoring her son’s scream of pain, and aimed lower, this time firing at his leg. The whole time, her face was a cold mask, as if she’d had to shut off some crucial part of herself to see this through.

Nico and I jumped with each shot. He covered his face and turned away so he wouldn’t have to see it. I watched. I had to make sure he didn’t get away this time.

The ceiling shook, the sound of heavy footsteps thundering over our heads. We’d have minutes, maybe, before they found us. It would need to happen fast. And wouldn’t you know it? The only thing I could think of as the old, familiar calm came over me was one simple phrase: accept, adapt, act.

The certainty of it was more comforting than terrifying. That, too, seemed so strange—at some point, after pushing the possibility to the darkest corner of my mind, it had taken root and flourished. The old plan was gone. The new one bloomed in its place.

The string around his neck holding the flash drive had slipped clear of Nico’s shirt as he stumbled away from Clancy, falling back against the cell’s glass wall. I was in front of him before he could catch his breath, gripping the black piece of plastic and yanking hard enough to snap the string he’d threaded it on. And before he could react, I shoved a shell-shocked Nico back into the empty cell and slammed the door shut.

“No!”

I had the keys. I barely heard the lock as it clanged into place.

“No, no, no,” he moaned, “Ruby, you know what they’ll do. They’ll take you back to that place, they’ll kill you—they’ll kill you.”

Dr. Gray had moved over to her son’s side, dropping to her knees to apply pressure to his wounds. At that, she looked over, startled.

“I won’t let them hurt me,” I said, knowing what a hollow promise it was. But in that moment, I felt so sure of this plan, wanted so badly to make sure that it wasn’t derailed in the aftermath of all this, that I felt confident I could, maybe, influence enough of the PSFs to keep my life.

I want to live.

“It was supposed to be me. It should be me!”

“Tell the others March first,” I said, pressing my palm against the glass and letting the keys fall to the floor. “March first. Harry knows the plan.”

“Ruby,” he sobbed, “don’t do this.”

I leaned my forehead against the cool glass and said quietly, “I can see it now—the road Jude talked about. It’s so beautiful. The rain’s gone and the clouds are moving out.”