The Replaced

“Not long,” Thom said. “Griffin’ll want to know exactly why we’re here and what our end game is.”

Natty looked up from the cot she was sitting on. “End game? Why does there have to be an end game?”

Simon and Thom shared a look. “There always is with Griffin.”

“What aren’t you telling us?” I asked, frustrated by this constant looking thing they were doing between the two of them. “What’s the big mystery? You clearly have issues with this Griffin guy. And what was with that overblown welcome party? Who does that?”

Simon’s grin was arrogant, and I braced myself for what was about to come. “It’s safe here, Kyra. You don’t need to be afraid. I’ll take care of you.”

I scowled back at him. “I don’t need you to take care of me, and I didn’t say I was afraid.” Even if I had been, there was no way I’d ever admit it to Simon. Especially not after he’d just landed us in Returned jail.

He crossed the crude planked floor and planted himself directly in front of me. I suddenly felt weird all over again, the same way I had right after I’d kissed him in front of the library. Like if I let my guard down, or gave him the right opportunity, he might take advantage and try to re-create that moment again.

Like he had feelings for me there was no way I could ever return.

Even though there was still blood crusted around his nose, from this close I could tell his injury was fully healed now. Still, I had to stop myself from reaching out to touch it . . . from asking if it still hurt. But I couldn’t give him the wrong idea.

He reached for my hand and I started, not meaning to, but doing it all the same and then feeling like a jerk for making it seem like I was repulsed by him.

I wasn’t. I just didn’t want him touching me.

He didn’t feel the same way, and he took my hands and drew me aside, looking at me so hard, so intently, my pulse throbbed. He lowered his voice. “Look, I know you think I’m joking, but I’m not.” He glanced toward the others, and I did too.

Thom was still staring out the window. Natty stood quietly beside him now, but she was watching us. When she caught us looking, she ducked her head and turned away quickly, making me feel like we’d been caught doing something wrong.

My stomach twisted. Simon didn’t seem to notice Natty’s scrutiny, but then I felt his thumb stroke the back of my hand, and the twist turned to a full-blown tangle. I tried to pull my hand away, but his grip tightened.

My eyes widened and shot to his, but he just grinned in response. He moved closer until there was almost no space between us. His lips were right at my cheek, tickling my neck. His voice, though, was serious, and deadly quiet—the complete opposite of his playful veneer. “I need you to promise that whatever happens, you won’t tell anyone what you can do. The moving things. You need to swear to me that you’ll keep that a secret.”

I closed my eyes against the feel of his breath on my skin. “What about . . . ?” It was an effort to reopen them, but when I did, I looked past him, past his shoulder, to where Natty was held rapt by Thom now. I could hear the low timbre of his voice, but not his words, as he stared down at her.

Just a few feet from them, Jett fumbled inside the wall, pulling away pieces of drywall in an effort to get at the cluster of wires.

Simon just shook his head, and his nose brushed against my hair. “We have to hope she doesn’t say anything. Griffin can’t find out.” His fingers closed around mine, strong and firm. He was begging me to promise.

But I wanted something else. “Why did you and Thom bring us here?” I whispered back.

“We had to go someplace. We had to get you guys off the road, and out of harm’s way.” His brows squeezed together, his copper eyes searching my face. “Griffin’s unconventional, but we have allies here. I swear it.”

His palm slipped up and cupped my cheek.

I bit back a gasp. “Simon.” It was as close as I could manage to a rebuke.

I couldn’t let him do these things . . . touch me this way. It was hard to even say that one word, though, and I was worried that if he pushed the issue, I might not have the strength to elaborate. To tell him I needed him to stay away from me. Or that I would never, ever like him the way I thought he wanted me to.

My heart was crashing so hard, and so forcefully, that I almost didn’t hear the door when it was flung open . . . not until it collided against the inside wall.

The blue-eyed girl with the shaved head—Simon’s new BFF—stood in the doorway, glaring at us . . . at Simon most of all. I moved my face away, so he was no longer touching me, and pulled my hand from his.

But I was too late—she’d noticed. Her condemning glare moved from my hands to Simon. “Come on,” she dictated to him.

“Wait!” I said in a rush. “What about the rest of us? You’re not leaving us here, are you?”

Jett jumped up, doing his best to block the gaping hole he’d made in the wall. “Where are you taking him?”

“None’a your business,” she shot back.

“Don’t worry. I got this.” Simon gave me an overconfident nod, and then turned his less-than-convincing charms back on the girl. “So, that’s it? No ‘Nice to see you’ or ‘I’ve missed you’ or ‘Where have you been all my life?’ Just ‘Come on’?” he taunted her, and I wanted to tell him to just, for once, shut his mouth and do as he was told. But it was useless. He was Simon—it wasn’t in him to leave well enough alone.