Overwhelming fear bubbles up.

James quickly follows my gaze to the black car behind us and then takes my hands to calm me. “It’s Kellan,” he says. “It’s okay. It’s just Kellan.” I meet James’s eyes, surprised. Certainly confused. “I had his business card,” James adds. “He helped us break you out.”

I check the car again, but the windows are too tinted for me to see the driver. There’s so much happening, I’m not sure what to ask first. I rest my head against James’s chest, happy to have him back, happier to be free. I can’t help but wonder for how long, though.

“Where are we going?” I ask, wrapping my arms around James, sighing after his hand brushes along my hair. I tense when Realm is the one who answers.

“We’re going to Oregon,” he says quietly. I force myself up, glaring toward the front. Is he crazy?

“They’ll be waiting for us there. I can’t just show up at my front door. My parents turned me in to The Program!”

“It’s our only choice.”

“Oh, now I’m supposed to trust you? You’re a handler—

you’ve always been a handler. You let them take me!” Tears threaten to spill, betrayal attacking me all over again. Even if I forgave everything Realm did before, he didn’t get us out of that farmhouse. He found us for The Program—and he disappeared when I needed him most.

Realm lowers his head, not daring to look back at me. “I didn’t let them take you. I just didn’t have the power to stop it. Cas told me about his deal, but all of us would have been screwed if I didn’t leave when I did. I got James.” He turns to me, his jaw set hard. “I got him for you, so yes, you should trust me.”

James pulls me closer, murmuring that Realm is right. But it’s not enough for me. I’m angrier than I thought possible—about Realm being a handler, about the farmhouse. . . . But that’s not all. There’s a touch of a memory in the back of my head, and I turn to Dallas, sure it has to do with her. But nothing surfaces. I look back at Realm. They erased it. The Program erased part of the reason why I’m angry with him; I can feel it.

What more could he have possibly done? I refuse to forgive him for crimes I can’t even remember—I’m not that kind.

“So we go back to Oregon,” I say, agitated that The Program got to any of my memories at all. “And then what? How long before they come for us again?”

Asa glances at Realm, obviously having the same concerns.

I realize how shitty this must be for him. Whatever debt he had to Realm is paid off, but now his life is ruined. He’s on the run with a group of half-crazed rebels.

“I don’t know,” Realm says solemnly. “But you’re not going home. We’re going to Oregon to meet someone—a friend.

Probably the only one we have left.”

“Who?” At this point, I can’t imagine anyone would want to fight with us, not even for him.

Realm smiles sadly and turns to face front again. “We’re going to see Dr. Evelyn Valentine.”

Chapter Nine

THE FARMHOUSES IN THE OREGON COUNTRYSIDE

still look this same, and nostalgia builds the closer we get to town. I’ve spent my life driving through these pastures, grown up hiking and camping with my family—my brother. Even though I can’t remember, I’ve spent them with James, too.

My eyelids are heavy as I battle against sleep, but my side is stiffening, pain radiating from the bruise. James is in the back of the van talking to Dallas, but her one-word responses do little to placate our fears. She’s unwell—severely unwell. There’s an unspoken agreement between all of us to keep watch over her. And make sure she doesn’t leap from the moving van.

Realm has been talking on the phone with Kellan, but he’s not offering much information. The conversations sound grim though, all ending in “We’ll see.” I would have thought our faces would be all over the news and scanners, but The Program must be trying to cover this up. There’s not even an Amber Alert issued for us.

The seat shifts as James grabs the corner and climbs up to sit next to me. The movement renews my pain, and I grind my teeth to fight back a cry. I’m not quick enough to hide it, and James leans in close, turning my face to his.

“What’s wrong?” he asks seriously. He notices how I’m favoring my right side, and his eyes flip accusingly to mine.

“You’re hurt?” Realm immediately turns from the front, and I know a spectacle is about to begin.

“I banged the side of the van pretty hard,” I say through dry lips. “I’m not going to lie, it f**king hurts. Asa,” I call to the front with a weak smile, “happen to have anything to fix that?” My handler glances in the rearview mirror. “Some shots of Thorazine. You can expect to sleep if I hit you with one though.”

I shake my head. We may have to outrun the threat for right now, but if I fall asleep, I’ll be helpless. I can’t take the risk.

I don’t think I’ll ever sleep again.

“Let him give you the shot,” James whispers, leaning in closer. He slides his palm gently over my bruise to check it, and I wince. “I can’t kiss the pain better.”

“I’m sorry I pushed you,” Realm says quietly. “I did this.” I swallow hard, looking over at him. There’s a rush of affection, but I quickly squash it, refusing to let him in even a little bit. Because if I do, I don’t know how much of me he’ll take.

“Don’t be stupid,” James says to him, not unkindly. “You saved our lives. Now, Asa. Can you pass me back the needle?” I look pleadingly at James, but he shakes his head definitively. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.” We stare at each other, knowing he’s promised before. Maybe this is how we go on: making promises about things beyond our control to offer one more moment of hope. Hope—like Arthur Pritchard offered us, is sometimes enough to survive on.

So I nod, pushing up my shirtsleeve to give him access to my upper arm. Asa gives him the needle, and James looks all sorts of nervous as he takes off the cap and holds it up like he’s about to stab me. If my side didn’t hurt so badly, I’d laugh.

“Hold on,” Realm says, climbing back and snatching the needle out of James’s fist. “Jesus, you’re not trying to break through her breastplate.” Realm slides in between us, and this close to him I’m struck with grief. He’s taken off the handler’s jacket and is wearing a cotton T-shirt underneath instead. But his hair is still combed to the side, and I think he looks handsome. I hate him more for it.




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