The Replaced

And then there was Natty.

I had no idea where Natty was now. No idea if she was on our side . . . or on Thom’s.

But regardless, I couldn’t help the way my stomach knotted when I thought about her. Until I heard otherwise, I couldn’t force myself not to care about her, just because, as Griffin pointed out, her actions made her “look guilty.”

Friendships were never that simple. I knew because of Cat.

Cat, who was five years older than me now and had moved on with her life while I’d been gone.

Cat, who was Austin’s girlfriend now.

Cat, who would forever be my best friend, no matter how hard I tried to deny it.

I checked my watch. And I checked it again, and afterward, I craned my neck to check on Tyler, but he was already checking me checking him. I smiled because even if he couldn’t remember us—the us that curled my toes and made my cheeks burn every time he grinned his crooked grin and feathered his finger along my lower lip, he was looking at me like that now. With that same crooked smile.

There was something about being trapped like this with Simon and Tyler that had me feeling twitchy and tingly, and I couldn’t decide if it was the good kind of twitchy and tingly, or the super weird kind.

Simon had managed to get us away from Blackwater Ranch undetected, yet even away from the onslaught of the Daylighters, alarm bells were still going off inside me.

As the road, and my heart rate, leveled out, I finally asked Simon the question that’d been driving me crazy. “Did you know it was Thom—that he was the traitor? I mean, did you ever suspect?”

Simon’s jaw tensed, and I could see it was eating him up inside. “Not until Griffin . . . until she came to me and told me about the message they intercepted.” He seethed. “Griffin asked Jett to look into it, and it was Jett who discovered it. Jett helped lay the trap. He was the one who traced it to Thom.”

I sighed, shooting a furtive look to Tyler, and wondering how much he already knew. About who he was and what had happened to cause all this. I imagined since he was here, running away with me, Griffin had told him pretty much everything by now, and his nod, and the sympathetic look in his eyes, pretty much confirmed my suspicion. “Sorry about your friend.”

I shrugged. “I guess he wasn’t really our friend.”

Above us, a strange sound rippled the air. It wasn’t loud at first, but it was coming at us fast—a sheer, tearing noise that seemed to be shredding the sky. I unbuckled so I could turn around and get a better view, straining to see what it was.

Whatever it was, it was still far off, but getting closer and closer. It sort of looked like a plane, but I couldn’t be sure because it was almost . . . too fast. Plus, it was heading right toward us.

Simon was watching it, too, from his rearview mirror. “Damn,” he cursed. “How the hell did they find us so fast?”

“That’s . . . them?” I asked incredulously, gripping the seat back as I watched its steady approach. “What is that thing?”

“Military drone,” Simon stated matter-of-factly.

“Drone? What’s it doing?” I asked.

“Tracking us!” Simon shouted from the driver’s seat. “And if it can get within range, they won’t let us escape. Not alive, anyway.”

But Tyler shook his head as he leaned forward. He looked from me to Simon. “I don’t think so. Griffin said they need us.”

“Something must’ve changed,” Simon said. “Or someone didn’t get the memo you two are worth more alive than dead.”

Pins and needles prickled my skin as I thought about what Agent Truman had told me back at Blackwater, about Alex Walker . . . about how quickly he’d healed. “Not anymore they don’t. They have Alex Walker,” I breathed. “They have another Replaced.” We were expendable, Tyler and me.

Tyler turned to Simon. “Can we lose this thing?”

“Hang on tight!” And with that, Simon forced the steering wheel hard to the left, veering us off the highway and onto the rocky terrain of the desert. We bounced awkwardly, and I dropped back onto my seat. I felt Tyler’s hand reach out to my shoulder, giving me a reassuring squeeze, and if I hadn’t been hanging on to the sides of my seat for dear life, I probably would’ve reached back to return the favor. As it was, all I could think was, Please don’t throw up . . . please don’t throw up . . . please, dear God, do . . . not . . . throw . . . up . . .

Each time the Jeep hit a rock, it felt like my brain was being rattled against my skull as my head smacked against the headrest and my heart felt like it might rip a hole through my chest, and the entire time I wondered, Why are they doing this to us? And how the holy hell are we going to outrun a military aircraft?

“What if we can’t lose them?” I called out to Simon, my voice hoarse as I glanced over my shoulder and saw how much closer the drone was getting.

My throat nearly clamped shut as I saw a grim look darken his face. And then I looked at Tyler, who I’d already sentenced to death once when I’d cut myself in his presence. Could I really let him die again just when I’d gotten him back? Was it fair that these two suffer just because I had to go and be some sort of freak that Agent Truman had to get his hands on?

I released the buckle on my seat belt again and glanced down at the dirt and rocks that blurred past. I’d jumped out of a moving vehicle once before, on Chuckanut Drive the night my dad and I had fought after my championship game. It hadn’t worked out so well for me then. I’d lost five years of my life because of that move.