But I still want it gone. Even knowing that without it I’m at the Elders’ mercy, I still wish I could get rid of it. That I could know what it’s like to be my own and that Thorne could know, and then we could decide what we wanted separately. That option is gone until the Elders are gone.
An alarm fills up all the space with a noise that grates my teeth together. I look up in time to see Bane burst into the Hub. He moves across the computers, typing in access codes.
“What’s going on?” Thorne asks, coming in behind him.
“He’s back,” Bane says.
“Who’s back?” I ask.
Bane doesn’t answer, but Thorne, Mitchell, and I follow him out of the Hub. For the first time in a week, the groups stop working and all look at the door, waiting. We join Handler and the others in the center of the room.
“Who is it?” I ask Carrigan.
I don’t get an answer, but when the door opens, I don’t need one. My whole body freezes as everyone gathers around him, and my brain stops working at the shock of the familiar blond hair.
It’s Xenith.
Xenith is here, staring at me. Here, shaking Handler’s hand. Here, laughing with Mitchell, flirting with Carrigan. Here in front of me. And the way he’s talking to them tells me he’s been here before.
“Neely,” he says. His voice is smooth and calm. The familiarity of it makes my heart skip a beat. It jars me. The last time I saw him-really saw him-he kissed me. I didn’t have to think about it, but now? Now he’s here.
“Neely,” he says, pulling me into a hug. His voice is relieved, but my brain is spinning and I can’t think of any words. Only images. Only him and our deal and Thorne’s face when I told him. Only the numbers left on my wristwatch and… Why would he be here right now? How is he here? I hate him. He’s just as bad as the Elders because, whatever game he’s playing, people died. People he sent me to see.
“You made it.” He practically breathes it into my hair, and I know I shouldn’t, but my mind drifts back to his bathroom. To his lips on mine. To the way he left me at the gate before my journey and held me when I cried out and tried to help me. He’s always tried to help, and I realize I do feel something for him. I’m just not sure what.
Part of it is anger. He still sent me all this way and helped cause all those deaths. There’s no excuse for that, right? I pull away from his embrace. No. There’s not.
“Xenith, I assume you know Thorne Bishop as well?” Handler asks.
Thorne is beside me. He and Xenith stare at each other for a moment, a long and awkward moment, and then Thorne reacts. Xenith is on the floor before anyone can move. Thorne is shaking his hand, cursing from the blunt force of the punch, and Xenith is groaning. There’s blood on Thorne’s hand from Xenith’s lip and I reach out for Thorne, but he pulls away and leaves us. I stand between them, halfway to Xenith and halfway to Thorne. Miles from both of them.
“I guess that was a yes,” Bane mutters.
Everyone else rushes to help Xenith, bringing a cloth and some ice. And me, I just stand there and watch everything move around me. In all the chaos, it’s only Xenith and me. Every word, every glance, every kiss comes down to this moment-and I realize it was all a lie.
Life speeds up to real-time. Xenith locks eyes with me, but I turn and race after Thorne.
10 YEARS BEFORE ESCAPE
SOMETIMES AFTER A long morning in the cramped schoolhouse, when the summer sun is hot on our skin and the humid air seeps into our pores, we race. The only relief from the heat is the ocean. Today is one of those days. The younger kids glare at us as they pour into the schoolhouse, their faces already blushing from the heat. Rowen laughs at his younger brother, sticks out a tongue, and stands beside Kai on the starting line. I love running. Running is the only time I don’t feel different.
Kai, Thorne, Rowen, Latavia, me, and six other second graders. Yesterday, Thorne won. Today, I’m determined it will be me. Xenith watches us from the distance; I wave at him.
“Come race,” I yell. He looks surprised, and then he smiles.
Latavia pulls me aside. “Why are you inviting him? He’s weird.”
I watch him pick up his bag and tie his shoe. He’s a little weird, but no more than Thorne and I are. I can’t tell anyone that though. Not after Kai ordered us not to speak of it. “We’re all allowed to race,” I say.
Xenith joins me on the line, a smile on his face. His blond hair falls in his eyes. I smile back.
“Why did you call me over?” he says.
“That’s what friends do.”
He laughs a little. “I don’t have friends, Neely.”
“I’m your friend,” I say.
There’s a whistle to my left, and Rowen has his fingers in his mouth. Everyone on the line gets ready. I put one leg in front of the other and watch from the corner of my eye as Xenith does the same. Another whistle sounds, and then we’re running.
I don’t think while I run. I don’t look for Thorne or Xenith or anyone else, even though I hear the other kids laughing. I zoom through the schoolyard, past the worker mill, around groups of working women and women with babies. I go past the grocery, through the courtyard. A group of Troopers sees us, and I’m pretty sure they run after us, but I keep going. The wind rushes through my hair. My feet pound, pound, pound against the ground. I feel myself breathing, racing against my heart.
Something crashes behind me. I look over my shoulder and see the bob of Thorne’s head in my vision. He’s smiling.
Ahead, the ocean crests along the horizon. I don’t look back to see who else is still in this race with me; I’m almost there. That’s what I focus on as I move forward, racing along the beach, fighting against the sand for support. Then I jump. The cool water catches me and wraps me up in its current. I dive under, let it wash over my head, and leap up with a gasp of air. When the water clears from my eyes, there are a few other splashes into the ocean, but I see Xenith first, smiling at me.
“Who won?” I ask, spitting out some salty water.
“You, but I was right behind you,” he says.
We spend the next hour in the water. It’s easy to forget that I’m different, that I have a secret, because in this one moment, I feel totally normal. Like any other eight-year-old with friends. Not the director’s daughter or Sara’s not-quite daughter or the girl who can feel what Thorne feels. I am just me.
When the warning bell for dinner rings, we all slosh out of the water.
Xenith is beside me, sand covering his wet feet. He reaches out to touch my arm, and I look back at him. “Did you mean what you said?” he asks. “About being my friend?”
I smile. “Of course. Everyone needs a friend.”
Xenith smiles until Thorne and Kai approach us with my pack. His smile disappears, and he turns away from me.
“Why were you talking to him?” Kai asks.
I shrug. “He’s nice.”
“Mom says we shouldn’t talk to him. She said he could get us in trouble,” Thorne says.
“In trouble? He’s just lonely.”
“But Mom said, Neely,” Thorne replies as if it’s the most simple thing in the world. I watch Xenith walk off down the beach toward his quarters until he’s a dark blob against the sun.
DEADLINE: 6D, 10H, 46M
MAVERICKS HEADQUARTERS
I FIND THORNE SITTING on the floor with his back against the crisp white walls. He doesn’t look at me.
“Are you okay?” I ask. “Your hand is bleeding.”
“Just go, Neely,” he says.
“No.” I crouch down on the ground and take his hand, which is red and cracked, with blood spreading across his knuckles. “I didn’t realize punching someone was so dangerous.”
I expect his eyes to light up a bit at the humor of my statement, but they don’t. There’s no light on his face, no warmth, and he stiffens under my touch but doesn’t pull his hand away.
“Tell me it’s not true,” he says, putting his other hand on top of mine
.
I freeze and search his face, expecting an answer or an explanation to the question. There isn’t one there. Somehow he’s almost someone foreign to me. “What’s not true?”
Thorne gulps back his nerves, and I see his Adam’s apple dance in his throat. My own nerves spread through me, pulling at me. Thorne’s not usually the nervous one.
“Tell me you don’t have feelings for him,” he says, then pauses for a second too long. “Lie to me, Neely.” I lean back on the floor, but he doesn’t loosen his grip on my hand. “Come on! Lie to me!”
His voice echoes down the empty hallway, and when it fades, there’s no sound but the two of us breathing. I feel everything at once-betrayal and sadness and hope and hatred. Part of it is mine and part of it is Thorne’s, and it’s all woven together in an indecipherable wave. My body doesn’t feel like mine, like the spinning and tingling and fire are a storm of someone else. Tears rush at my eyes.
“Do you really want me to lie to you?” I whisper. “You’re pretty good at it. I asked you before-way before-what you felt.”
Thorne’s voice is laced with disgust. I know he’s angry, upset, worried, and I can’t say anything to make it better. Not with the connection, not with his hand on mine, not with the dead giveaway that would rush through both of us. “I’m sorry.”
Thorne pulls his hand away. “I hate him,” he says to me. “This was his plan all along. To take you away from me.”
“I didn’t know he would be here, Thorne, I swear. He played me, too,” I say quickly. “I’m here with you.” He smiles, but it’s weak and doesn’t fully form. It’s sad, doubtful. I’ve never seen him look so lost before. So much like how I’ve felt so many times. Then he looks at me, which is probably worse.
“I saw your face when Mitchell said they couldn’t remove the branding.”
“Thorne, I’m with you.”
“For how long?” he asks.
Silence falls between us, filled only by the far-off noise of the infiltration team moving on without us. My head is on the verge of explosion-a kaleidoscope of love, hate, doubt, fear, uncertainty, hope. I can’t separate one from the other long enough to figure out which ones I believe, yet all of them consume me.
“For always,” I say in response.
He shakes his head at me. “I wish I could believe that.”
And then he stands up and walks away, and he doesn’t look back. Not once.
DEADLINE: 5D, 21H, 21M
MAVERICKS HEADQUARTERS
XENITH EYES ME FROM across the room through the entirety of the meeting. Try as I may, I can’t avoid his gaze. I can’t look away, even when my eyes wander. Even when I feel Thorne’s insecurity through our connection. There’s still something negative between us, and that won’t go away until Xenith does.
I’m not sure I want Xenith to go away.
I’m not sure I want him to stay, either.
“We’ll just have to keep looking,” Agent Handler says, looking at his watch. “Bane, Thorne, we have to go.”
I steal a glance at Thorne when he gets up from the table. He looks back at me as he follows Bane and Handler, but he doesn’t say anything.
When I look up, it’s just Xenith and me. He’s tapping his fingers along the edge of the table, and his eyes pore into me and through me. I shift in the chair. I should leave, but there’s too much that keeps me sitting here. Too many things that connect me to him that I don’t understand at all. For a second, it’s as if they’re all dangling in front of me and I could reach out and touch the answers. Questions form on my lips, but then he speaks and they all fall away.
“I was worried,” Xenith says, leaning forward slightly. My cheeks flush a little too much for my own comfort, and I’m sure he notices. “I was worried.”
“You were worried?” I say. “This was all you. You sent me out there!”
“You wanted to go.”
“Do you know how many people I watched die?” I ask. My voice is rough, and the anger I feel toward him builds more and more inside of me as he just sits there. I didn’t realize how angry I was until this moment, with his eyes on me and the room empty and all the questions burning toward the surface. “Do you know how many times we almost died?”
“But you didn’t die.” Xenith’s voice is soft, almost like he’s relieved. “I knew you wouldn’t die, Neely, or I never would have risked you.”
“The branding protects me from the Elders, and you sent me on a wild chase to get it removed.”
Xenith shakes his head. “If you’d stayed in the Compound and done nothing, the Elders would have transferred Thorne, given him a different branding- one that isn’t connected to yours-and then you would’ve been in their hands. In the Compound and at their will. I did what I had to do.”
I shake my head and move from the chair. My hands are trembling. I can’t help but believe him, and that’s what I don’t want to do. I move around the perimeter of the room, eyes on him. “Why would you send Thorne out here? How could you do that? We had a deal, and I trusted you, Xenith. You were supposed to keep him safe.”
“I did. I sent him away. To you.”
I stop and whip around to glare at him. “That is not what I meant and you know it!”
“You never said not to do it,” he says with a smile. “Besides, he’s safe from your father. That was your request-that I protect Thorne Bishop from your father in your absence. I believe those were the exact words you used, and I did that. I even kept him out of reach of the Elders. No bonus required for that one.”
I shake my head. “But you-”
He moves toward me and points to himself. “I upheld my end of the bargain, unlike you. You told him the truth the first chance you had.” Xenith pauses. “I had to do it, Neely. Your father would have figured out that Thorne was involved somehow, and even if he hadn’t, it wouldn’t have mattered. Thorne was a target, too.”
I know Xenith is right, but I want to be angry at him. It’s easier than being something else.
“Trust me, it wasn’t my ideal solution either. I thought I’d keep him there and keep an eye on him. It was only a month, and I could do that. But it didn’t work out that way. He had questions, too many questions, and then he was really bugging me with all the whining about you. So I sent him to you,” he says, his eyes examining me. “I thought you’d be happy to have Loverboy with you.”
“I was. I am,” I say.
“I get why you told Thorne everything now. You’re a horrible liar,” he says.
I shake my head. “How did I let you get me into this position? You act like it’s all a game to you, but it’s not. It’s my life. It’s his life and hundreds of other people’s lives.” I step away from him, but he reaches out for me. I jerk back. “Don’t touch me.”
He holds his hands up in defense. “Allow me to explain, at least, before you write me off. This is not a game. I wouldn’t gamble with your life, Neely. You have to know that.”
“But you bargained for it,” I say quickly.
“You don’t even understand what that deal we made was about. It’s not your real life, Neely; it’s your DNA. The Mavericks needed it, and I saw an opening. They haven’t even taken any yet, so don’t act like I did something horrible to you.”
And I hate myself a little because I do know that. I can see it when I look at him, when he talks to me, when he says my name. But that doesn’t make it right. I’m not a prize or a pawn. None of us are. Everyone in the Compound is innocent, and it strikes me that they are in trouble because of me.
“You could’ve told me about the gene,” I say.
“Probably, but we can’t undo the past,” he says with a sigh. “Look, I honestly didn’t learn of the gene until your father changed, and then you were at my door and it all happened so quickly. There was enough going on.”
I move to the opposite side of the room where the windows are. Outside, San Francisco is lively. I watch the Remnants from up here, and they look like ants, like dust on a mantel
.
Xenith moves closer to me as the energy in the room changes. I turn to him.
“Why doesn’t the branding work on you? You ask more questions than anyone.”
“I had it removed when I was six, and I came to the Old World with my dad.”
That’s a long time to carry the weight of such a heavy thing, to know that you’re different than everyone else in your Compound. No wonder he’s always been so standoffish. I reach out and touch his neck. It feels simple and plain, and he turns so I can see. The outline is still there, but not the color.
“So you knew all our lives. You knew what our branding was-what we could do. Way before you said it.”
“Of course I did,” he says, stepping toward me.
“I felt like a freak as a kid. You should’ve told me.”
He shakes his head. “Told you what? That in all of history, twins had been separated or killed because they had special abilities? That the Elders were evil? No way. Besides, you wouldn’t have believed me with Thorne and Kai around to negate my every word.”
“It was never like that.”
“It was always like that. Not that it matters now. I assume you have something else you want to say-yell at me some more, maybe?” he asks, crossing his arms.
I’m intentionally quiet. I want him to worry, to be uncertain about something, to waver. But he doesn’t. His eyes are soft and welcoming.
“Why do I even trust you?” I start to walk away from him, past him and toward the door, but he pulls me between him and the wall.
“Because I don’t lie to you,” he says. His grasp is tight on my arms, and my heart is racing faster than I knew possible. All my emotions are at war as he pulls me close like he did once in his quarters. I can feel his heartbeat too close to mine. My mouth is dry.
“Xenith…” I start.
“What?” he asks, his voice coarse and hollow.
My breathing is ragged as his lips move closer. His breath mingles with mine, and I can almost taste the mint. His lips barely touch my own, a gentle flutter. I brace myself for more. His whole body tenses up, prepares, and I long for his lips in a way that scares me. He reaches out and touches a strand of my hair, sweeps it behind my ear, and then pours those blue eyes into mine.
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