Category: writing

Sunlight was streaming in through the blinds when her phone startled her awake from a dead sleep. Ky groaned, groping for it, head aching and eyes gritty. Nightmares had swallowed her whole as soon as her head hit the pillow the night before, probably born of a combination of fear and remembered trauma after spilling her guts to Reece.

She’d never told anyone about it all like she’d told her friend and roommate that night. Not only had she never dared for fear that it would somehow put someone in danger, she’d known deep down that she wasn’t ready to relive it all in the telling. The ache was still there, the pain was still there, the barrier between it and the rest of her paper-thin. Now that Reece knew, though, the burden felt a little lighter—at least the pain felt a little less. Knowing that her friend could be in danger was a whole different story.

Then again, she thought as she fumbled to answer her phone, bleary-eyed and barely awake, just knowing me and being in proximity was going to put her in danger anyway. Nothing’s changed except now she knows that there really are bad guys out there doing bad things and they’re hard as hell to stop.

“Hi.”

“Ky?” It was Matthew’s voice. He sounded worried and for a second she couldn’t figure out why. “You okay?”

“I just woke up,” she said, rubbing her eyes and rolling onto her back. “What’s wrong? You sound weird.”

“Right back at you,” he said, a trace of wry humor infecting his tone. “It’s almost eleven. Your phone went to voicemail twice before you picked up.”

“Oh,” she said, frowning at the bunk above her. “I must not have heard it. I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right. You don’t scare the shit out of me that often anyway.” He sighed into the phone. “I was going to go talk to them and found a safehouse. Thought you might want to come with me for all of it.”

“And talk about what we’re going to do with that map?”

He hesitated. A chill shot through her.

“Matthew. We have to do something.”

“We don’t have the evidence to move in on them yet,” he said. She could almost taste the bitterness in his tone. “We just have a location.”

“Ridley’s story isn’t enough?”

“Was yours?”

It stung, but it was the truth. Her story on its own hadn’t been enough to get anyone moving with any sort of alacrity and odds were good that Ridley’s wouldn’t be, either—assuming he was able to give a solid statement in the first place.

“So we know where they might be but we can’t do anything,” she said. “We just have to sit on our hands and wait.”

“Ky—”

“Matthew, I get it. I just don’t like it.” She rubbed at her eyes, wincing at the sting. “Are you on your way?”

“Fifteen minutes.”

“Okay. I’m going to take a shower. I’ll see you when you get here.” She didn’t give him time to answer, just hung up the phone and tossed it toward the foot of the bed and pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes.

There has to be something we can do that’s not just sitting on our hands waiting to lose them all over again. They’ve got to know that they’ve lost track of Ridley. How are they going to react to that? They’ll run. They always run, find a new hole to hide in before they’re caught, before anyone can do anything. They’ll just fade away again and it’ll take us another four years to find them—unless they’re able to put their plans in motion before that.

The idea sent a fresh shiver down her spine. Their plan hadn’t changed. The idea of it was terrifying. The Institute had always planned to use their so-called Angels—the stolen children, the kids with gifts that they tortured in the name of training them for their roles—to defend them against whatever horrors they believed would come when the End Times came. Somewhere along the way, things had tilted ever-so-slightly, as it seemed the Institute’s leadership had slowly come to realize and believe that the End Times wouldn’t come in their lifetimes without help.

So that had become the new plan. Train the Angels to defend them, but also to help them do what they believed was necessary and right.

Their swords and their shields—their tools to ensure not only their survival when the End Times began, but to choose the day and time of their coming.

No one was ever going to be able to convince her that the people who ran the Institute and the people who believed the teachings of the Agapeistic Center for Religious Studies were anything other than some kind of insane doomsday cult. They were just a terrifying offshoot of some branch of evangelistic Christianity that even she couldn’t trace, not that she really wanted to.

They were more dangerous than anything she’d ever heard of and the fact that they’d been so successful in covering their tracks was even more terrifying than anything they’d ever done to her or anyone else.

It was hard not to linger in the shower. Something had started to ache in her that even the hottest shower wasn’t going to soothe but that didn’t ease the temptation to try. She was toweling her hair when she heard the familiar staccato of his knock on the front door downstairs and muttered a curse under her breath.

Reece’s voice drifted up from below as she answered the door. “Hi Matthew. Does Ky know you were coming?”

She threw the towel over the bar and stumbled out of the bathroom and down the stairs, straightening hair and clothes as she went. “Sorry, sorry. I lost track of time.”

They both looked at her, Matthew from where he stood in the doorway and Reece from where she stood on the mat in front of it. Reece’s brows went up. “Was that you in the shower? I thought it was Ian.”

“I didn’t even realize Ian was here,” Ky said, raking her fingers through her wet hair again as she finished coming down the stairs and headed for the rug where their shoes were lined up in two neat rows. “Was he here last night?”

“I don’t know when they actually got in. It was after I was asleep.”

That would make two of us. Ky shook her head and exhaled. “I’ll have to tell them, too.”

“Not until you’re ready,” Reece said, watching her as she pulled on her sandals. “Where are you guys going?”

“What are you two talking about?” Matthew interjected, his gaze bouncing between the pair. “What did you tell her, Ky?”

“Things you already knew.” Ky straightened, squaring her body to face him. “If the Institute isn’t gone like we thought it was, they’re going to be in danger whether they know anything or not just because they’re in proximity to me. We both know it. So last night I told Reece.”

“I asked her what was wrong,” Reece said quickly. “And I’m glad that I know now because there’s a lot of stuff that suddenly makes a whole hell of a lot more sense. So where are you two going?”

Of course she would have figured out that they were going somewhere, even though Matthew was dressed much more like he was about to go play golf in a polo shirt and khakis rather than a suit. He had a familiar look on his face that suggested that whatever he was about, it wasn’t going to be anything fun, though he looked like he was unarmed. His weapon and holster were probably locked in the trunk of his car. Reece had known him long enough—thanks to her friendship with Ky—to be able to recognize that look on his face without it, though. Today was work, not a social call.

Matthew just looked askance at Ky. She sighed and glanced at Reece. “I asked him to delay doing the special agent thing with Ridley and his friend last night. It seemed like they’d been through enough for one day. They needed to breathe and feel safe for five minutes.”

“So that’s where you’re going? To go talk to them?”

I nodded, crossing to grab my keys from the basket by the door and grab my bag from the peg behind it. “Yeah. Matthew needs to get statements and shit.”

“Cool. I’m coming with you.” She moved for her shoes.

“The hell you are,” Matthew said, his brows shooting up. “This isn’t—Reece.”

The look she shot him was open, innocent, but also brooked zero argument on the matter. “Someone is going to need moral support especially in light of how hard their world just got rocked because of what happened last night. You will be busy. I can be there.”

He shot a look at Ky, gaze pleading for help, but she just shook her head slightly.

“I’m not going to stop her,” Ky said quietly. “Let’s be honest, even if I’m mostly okay, Julia might need someone. Damon might need someone. You and I know too much. Reece will have a bit of an outside perspective that could be a comfort. She knows enough to know this is some serious shit.”

For a second, it looked like he might argue, but he looked between the two women for a second, then just nodded and turned. “Fine. Let’s get going.”

The two exchanged a look of their own. Reece reached to squeeze Ky’s shoulder, smiling reassuringly. Ky managed to smile back, though her heart felt heavy.

It still felt like they were miles away from being able to do anything more than help one person at a time. There were a lot more than that who needed it and not for the first time, she was worried that by the time they could try to help more, it would be too late.

No one came in the morning.

Buried beneath the blankets on his bed, Hadrian Bridger listened for the sound of footsteps approaching his door. Usually they’d come early with the first dose, if they were coming, and if he’d tracked the days correctly, this should be one of those days.

But no one had come yet.

There was a lot of movement in the hallway, though. He could hear muffled voices, footsteps moving back and forth. This part of the facility was seeing much more traffic than usual.

I didn’t dream it, then. I really heard what I thought I heard. Stiff, cold fingers bunched in the sheet. Of course, the trick of pinching the web of his fingers between his thumb and forefinger usually woke him from any dream or vision that gripped him, but sometimes reality and memory and his grip on both were still tenuous.

Maybe they really were getting ready to move them again. That was usually what shut it down meant—that they were closing this facility, moving everyone to another one. It had happened several times over the past few years.

At least, he thought that was true. Everything felt so muddled, had for a while. He still hadn’t quite figured out what the cause of it was, either—was it the drugs? His own abilities? Something else?

Did it really matter?

It probably didn’t, at least not on the inside.

She’s alive.

The thought crackled through him like a current.

The Institute—every staff member, ever doctor, every attendant, everyone—had repeated it over and over again.

“Kyle Anne Monroe died attempting to escape. It’s a tragedy and she will be remembered for what she could have been. Let her loss be a lesson to all of us of what defying the will of God can mean.”

“She’s dead, gone. She failed to follow God’s plan for her and paid the price—and will continue to pay it in eternity.”

“Do you want to end up like her? She’s gone. She’s been punished for her transgressions and lack of faith.”

“She died. Mourn, but learn from her mistakes. Do not repeat them. Follow the path.”

Variants on a theme, every time. She defied their beliefs, defied the path laid out for her. She died. She was dead. Listen to us. Do as we say and survive. Do as we say and live. Do as we say and be saved. She could have been so much more than what she allowed herself to be. Defiance means death because you’re not defying us.

You’re defying the path that’s been ordained for you by the lord of all.

It was as if they believed that if they repeated it often enough, they might actually start to believe it. The worst part of it was, sometimes they did almost did. But that was more about survival, more about finding a way to pull through the hell they were living in than actual belief.

He knew that all of this was insane.

But their circle had shrunk, now, and none of them could move against the Institute. It wasn’t the way it was before when she was here, or even when he’d thought that she could still reach them—reach him.

The sudden silence after the fire all those years ago had let them convince him that maybe, just maybe, it had all been in his head for all those years since the day they brought T.S. back barely breathing and told them all that Ky was dead.

But that was a lie.

It had to be. Deep down, in his heart of hearts, he’d never believed she was gone. But if she wasn’t gone, if she was still out there somewhere, why hadn’t she come for them? Why hadn’t she reached for them?

Why hasn’t she reached for me?

What if she—

Could it be possible that she had no idea that they were still alive?

It was enough to make his stomach sink.

They made it look like we were dead, didn’t they?

A shiver shot through him and he shifted in the bed, rolling onto his side and pulling the blankets up over his head. Moving brought pain and he choked quietly on it. Something about what they’d been giving him to stimulate his visions made every muscle in his body seize up like he’d run for miles on an empty stomach without water.

Really, he wasn’t sure if that was slowly killing him or not. It wouldn’t have surprised him very much if it was and that they didn’t care. After all, the other half of his equation wasn’t in their hands anymore. His visions, though—he was still pretty sure that they through those were important and useful. He couldn’t be sure, though, because half the time he didn’t remember what he saw when they dosed him with whatever they’d been giving him for the last six months. Whatever the drug cocktail was, in addition to the pain, memory gaps were proving to be another side effect.

Of course, maybe it also had to do with the red-haired girl that had come a few months before—at least, he thought he remembered a red-haired girl there for some of the sessions. Maybe he’d just imagined her.

Hallucinations had also been one of the side effects.

If they made it look like we were dead, then she… He grimaced as his thoughts scattered. What would Ky have done? He still wasn’t sure how long he’d been unconscious after the explosion. Had she reached for him? Had he dreamed of her?

Or had there been nothing because something had snapped the tether between them?

The idea of that made him sick to his empty stomach.

I need to get up, he finally thought. No one’s coming. I need to eat something if no one’s coming.

It was painful, clawing his way free of the blankets, but the more he moved the easier it was to push the pain away, to ignore it—or maybe the pain in his head tripling meant the pain everywhere else was suddenly a lesser concern. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat there for a few seconds, swallowing down the acid that rose in his throat despite an empty stomach. Even beneath stocking feet, he could tell the floor was cold.

Footsteps stopped in front of his room out in the hall and he froze, holding his breath, squeezing eyes shut. Did I misjudge the time? Have they just been moving around all night and I didn’t sleep? Is it not morning? Did I just—did I sleep through the first dose? He’d never done that before, but anything was possible.

“Is it even safe to try to move them?” He thought he recognized the voice as one of the technicians that assisted Dr. Sterling, but he wasn’t sure.

“There’s no alternative,” another voice said. “We have to. They’re still important to the plan.”

“They’re invalids,” the tech’s voice said. “Moving them could be dangerous. We could lose them.”

“Then we’d better be careful about it,” the other voice said. “We’ve moved them before. Why should this time be any different?”

“We had more time to prepare last time. This timetable is impossible.”

“All things are possible when you have faith. Trust in that and we’ll get it sorted out. Dr. Sterling wants them ready to move by tonight.”

“We’ll have to sedate them,” the tech said slowly. “That’s going to be—”

“I’m sure he’s aware. Do we have any good alternatives?”

There was a brief silence followed by what Hadrian thought might be a sigh. “No. No, nothing that I can come up with. Are they bringing her back to help?”

“No. She’s needed elsewhere.”

“Her strength is—”

“Trust in God and the plan,” the second voice said, cutting off the tech. “Do your job and let her keepers worry about what she’s doing. Get them ready to move. They’re out of here tonight.”

Slowly, Hadrian eased back down to the mattress, his pillows, heart in his throat. What are they planning? What are they going to do?

He knew who the her they were talking about was—it was Aly, his friend Aly, and imagining what they could be using her for shook him to his core.

She’d been the first one to break of the four of them that had remained.

Then again, none of them were whole anymore anyway, not since losing Ky. Not since what had happened to T.S. Really, the most surprising part was that Aly had held it together as long as she had, had kept the faith as long as she had.

Then, suddenly, it was just him and Ridley.

And then, finally, just him.

His lips thinned as he burrowed into the blankets again. The door hadn’t opened yet, but it would soon enough. As soon as the tech figured out dosages, as soon as the tech sorted out exactly what they needed to do on an accelerated timetable to get him ready to move, that door would open.

He wasn’t sure where he’d wake up, but he had no doubt that T.S. would be with him. They never moved one of them without the other. They’d done something to tie them together after the escape attempt, something that had never quite been undone. First it had been the four of them tied together—he and Aly and Ridley all tied to T.S. They’d made Aly figure out how to do it. He still remembered holding her while she sobbed, terrified that it wouldn’t work, that somehow she’d kill the boy she loved in trying to make sure he stayed alive.

The fact that she wouldn’t be there when they were moved was a little terrifying, to say the least.

They didn’t mention Ridley. Why didn’t they mention Ridley? So far as he knew, Ridley was still bound to T.S., too. Had something changed? A dim memory surfaced of a whispered voice, of an apology, of tears and the squeeze of a warm hand.

They’d sent him away, out of the Institute, but not like Aly. He’d said something about being sent to someone in the town up the road beyond the walls. He’d said goodbye.

Had they undone it when they sent him away? The draw was worse—he’d noticed that much—like he was carrying most of the weight of maintaining T.S., but that had happened before because of distance. It happened whenever Aly was away, doing whatever they were forcing her to do, had been worse when she’d had her accident.

That had nearly killed all four of them.

Wait. They didn’t mention Ridley. Last night they said—

Aly would never run. She couldn’t, not without T.S., and T.S. couldn’t do anything other than keep on breathing. But Ridley?

They sent him to a minder in the town.

Someone had gotten away.

Ridley had gotten away.

It had to be. There wasn’t anyone else.

Ridley had gotten away. Somehow, he’d run, probably with help, based on what he’d heard the night before. The Institute was hunting for him.

They’re afraid he’ll find someone. That he’ll tell someone everything.

They’re running scared.

His breath caught and his fingers tangled in the blankets. He’d seen this. He knew that he had, long ago, in one of those dark moments where he’d sobbed himself to sleep, wishing that she was still beside him, still there to soothe his tears and bolster his dying hope.

This is it. This is how it starts.

“This is how it ends,” he whispered to no one.

“This is the beginning of how it ends.”

As a warning, this is where things start to get very disturbing. In case you weren’t already there.

Four

A dim light shown through the kitchen window as she unlocked the front door. Behind her, Matthew watched from the car, engine idling, to make sure she got inside okay. Ky chewed on the inside of her lip again as she pushed the door open and slipped inside, closing and locking the door behind her. It wasn’t the kitchen light that was on, but one of the side table lamps in the living room. Reece was curled against the arm of the couch, legs tucked up beneath her, a book open against the throw pillow between her and the couch’s arm.

“You didn’t have to wait up,” Ky said quietly. “Figured you’d be in bed.”

“I wasn’t waiting up,” Reece said. “Just got a little absorbed.” She glanced at her watch and winced. “Though now I see why you thought I was. Everything okay? Matthew doesn’t usually have you out quite this late even when it’s not a school night.”

“No.” Ky shook her head. “Everything’s not okay. I—my world just turned sideways, Reece. I thought—there’s something I thought I knew that I was wrong about. Every decision I’ve made for years has been based on that one thing being true and it’s not.”

Her friend’s brow furrowed, a frown creasing her features. “Ky, you’re not making sense.”

“I know. I never told you guys about it. Not really.”

“About what happened before we met,” Reece said. “Before you started school here.”

“Yeah.”

“I always figured it was just something too traumatic to talk about,” Reece said, leaving her book on the couch and ducking past Ky into the kitchen. She filled the kettle and got down a canister of tea. “I thought if you’d wanted to talk about it, you eventually would.”

“Eventually finally came,” Ky whispered, gaze tracking her. She watched Reece put the kettle on and lay out a bit of sugar, watched her get down two mugs and add a sachet of loose-leaf tea to each. “You’re right, but it’s a lot. I didn’t think it was a burden anyone else needed.”

“Does Matthew know?”

“Most of it,” Ky said. “But that’s complicated.”

Reece leaned a hip against the counter, studying her carefully for a few seconds. Ky almost flinched under the scrutiny, would have if it had been anyone else. Reece had this way of looking at someone, though, looking without seeming like she was judging as she peeled back the layers that most people wrapped themselves in to hide parts of themselves from the rest of the world.

Part of Ky was still afraid what her friend would see, though.

“Okay,” Reece said quietly, still watching her. Ky wet her lips and drifted over to the stairs that wound up toward the second level, where their bedrooms were. She sank down onto the third step, meeting Reece’s gaze across the tile of the kitchen floor and the spate of carpet at the foot of the stairs.

“Matthew didn’t take me in right after my parents died.” The words tumbled out. It wasn’t where she’d intended to start but that was what came out of her anyway. “It was years before I met him. I met his brother first.”

“I—I didn’t realize he had a brother,” Reece whispered. “How did—”

“He doesn’t talk about him,” Ky rushed on. “Because we’re pretty sure he was killed when I escaped where we were, where they were holding us. I went to Matthew because I didn’t have anywhere else to go or anyone else to go to and that was the plan. We escaped and we took what we knew to Matthew—that was the plan. But T.S. didn’t—I got out and he didn’t. So I told Matthew everything. Almost everything.”

“Everything about what?” Reece’s brows knit. “Ky, what are you talking about? You’re not making sense.”

“I know. I know. I’m just—it’s hard to know where to start.” She buried her face in her hands, taking one ragged breath, then another, trying to steady herself as her eyes began to sting. They might be alive. They’re out there. Maybe—maybe I can get them back. Maybe we can save them. “There’s this—there’s this place called the Institute, Reece. They took me from the foster system after my parents died in that accident and they—” she stopped, lifting her head as she drew another ragged breath, met her friend’s wide-eyed gaze. “I can step out of the normal flow of time.”

“What?”

“I have powers,” Ky said. “I can step out of the normal flow of time and move around and do things. I don’t—I’ve only done it a few times since you guys met me. Kind of handy when you’re running late.”

Reece kept staring, blinking rapidly. “Wait. Is that—is that how you’ve somehow beaten us to Commons when I knowyou left after we did?”

Ky nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, that is exactly how.”

“I should not believe you,” Reece said, tone matter-of-fact, holding her friend’s gaze even as Ky held hers. “But I also can’t come up with any reason why you’d lie about something like this, either. So—wait. How—why did you mention this after you said some place called the Institute took you out of foster care? How are those two things connected? Are they connected?”

“They wanted me because I could do that,” Ky said. “They—they’ve spent at least a decade, probably a lot longer gathering as many vulnerable kids as they can, kids with different…different powers like mine so they could use them.”

“For what?”

“They…” a tremor shook her and she curled her hands into fists. You can do this. You have to do this. Just breathe. Be strong. “They believe that they needed us to protect them when the end times come because they’re coming soon. Because they were going to make sure they come soon. We were supposed to be shield and their weapon.”

“Kids. Kids with powers. Like…supernatural powers.”

“They called us their Angelic Legion,” Ky whispered. “Their Angels.” She squeezed her eyes shut against the tears that welled up. One escaped, tracked down her cheek. A second chased it. “They would do anything to mold us into what they wanted us to be.”

“It sounds like a cult,” Reece said quietly.

“It is,” Ky agreed. “But it’s so much more than that, too.”

“They hurt you,” Reece whispered.

She nodded, unable to speak around the lump forming in her throat. Her fingers curled into fists against her knees. She heard Reece turn off the stove and a moment later her friend was sitting beside her and sliding her arm around her shoulders.

“It’s okay,” Reece whispered. “It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me more.”

“Yes, I do. Especially if things are about to go the way I think they can.” She swallowed hard and took a deep breath, forcing her voice to steady. She wiped her eyes and cheeks with the heel of her hand. “Matthew and I thought that they were gone after an incident four years ago. It was before I met you and Marie.”

“Before you started school,” Reece said. “Is that where—”

“Yeah, that’s where the scars came from. There was an explosion. I—I wasn’t far enough away. Part of me wished for a long time that I’d been closer. I thought I’d lost everyone else that I’d cared about, that I’d left behind on the inside there—in their hands.”

“The Institute.”

Ky nodded slowly. “I was never alone in there. There were a bunch of us that kept resisting them, not giving in. Matthew’s brother had infiltrated the place to try to get evidence so they could bring it down. They were pretty sure that the Institute was responsible for their parents getting killed. I don’t think they were wrong.”

“Why—” Reece stopped, then started again. “Why hasn’t someone done something?”

“I don’t know,” Ky said. “The theory always was because they managed to hide it so well and probably had some people willing to help cover it up. How else to cults stay under the radar?”

“This doesn’t sound small though. Someone must have noticed.”

“Someone probably did,” Ky admitted. “They either just didn’t care or someone found a way to make sure their mouths stayed shut and the Institute stayed protected.” Sometimes both. She drew another shaking breath, trying to fight down the memory of a look and a dismissal, one that she’d buried long ago so she wouldn’t have to feel the sting of it anymore.

And yet, there it was again and the pain and shock was as sharp as it had been in the moment. She hated it.

“They hide behind the veil and shield of religiosity and good works and because the flavor is palatable to so many, they get away with the shit they’re pulling. With what they’re doing to people who don’t even realize they need to protect themselves until it’s too late. And then what the hell kind of fight could anyone put up, right?”

“I guess,” Reece said faintly, leaning forward, titling her head to try to peer up into Ky’s face. “What happened tonight? A case? A case about—about them?”

“Yeah,” Ky said. “Literally the most important case personally to Matthew that he’s ever opened or worked. Like I said, we thought they were gone and that we were never going to be able to get justice for any of them.” The words stuck in her throat and her heart felt it was beating too fast. Reece threaded her fingers through hers and squeezed, hard. It helped. “But they’re not gone. They’re not dead. When I texted you last night I didn’t know what we were about to walk into and when I—” She stopped, blinking back fresh tears. “When Damon called him at dinner, neither of us had any idea. Damon didn’t even have any idea. But we walked in and all of a sudden it was Ridley there on the couch. It was Ridley.”

“Ridley,” Reece repeated slowly. “Ky, I don’t—I don’t remember you ever mentioning someone named Ridley. But then you never talk about anyone so I—”

“I—I know. I know. That’s part of why this is hard. He was my friend—he was all of our friend—when we were there. When the Institute had us, he was part of this little group of people that figured out all kinds of shit about that place and god the Institute hated us for it. But they never dreamed we’d do a damn thing about it, you know? We were kids. We were stupid kids who thought that we could bring the whole thing down around their ears if we just—if we just got loud enough and resisted hard enough. But it’s never that easy, is it? Of course not. Of course it’s not.

“But T.S.—that’s Matthew’s brother—he always kind of had this plan. He was going to get as much information as he could from the inside and then we’d find a way to get out and get that information to Matthew. We thought—hell. We were so stupid and I know that now. We thought that if we could show people what was going on, if somehow we could show them the truth, they’d care and the whole thing would just come down around the Institute’s ears. He and I tried to escape one night and—”

“It’s okay,” Reece said. “You don’t have to tell me if it’s too hard.”

Ky scrubbed the tears from her eyes with the heel of her hand. “Thanks. I—I made it out. Got to Matthew. For a few years, we worked on his plan for me to go back and get them out. And when I say we worked on the plan it was mostly me working on the plan and him trying to keep me from doing anything incredibly stupid. Then when the moment came, somehow the Institute was ready for us. They knew I was coming and set a trap. After that I—I thought everyone was dead. I thought they were gone and that I’d failed them.”

“But you didn’t,” Reece said, her brow furrowing even deeper. “Because you said that when you got to Damon’s there he was.”

Ky nodded slowly. “Yeah. Ridley. Alive and—and I don’t even know how to describe it. But I’d thought that the Institute was gone and they’d never threaten me or anyone I loved ever again and now I know that’s not true.”

“Because he was there.”

“Because he was there,” Ky confirmed. “We drew it on a map. I need to plug everything into Google Earth to see what I can figure out. Matthew’s freaked. I think he thinks I’m going to go off half-cocked.”

“Are you?” Reece asked.

“No,” Ky said, finally pushing to her feet and heading toward the stove, to the kettle spitting steam. “I intend to go off fully cocked. He knows it, too. He just hasn’t come to terms with it.”

“What, exactly, would he be coming to terms with?”

“That this is our chance,” Ky said, bracing herself against the edge of the cooktop. “We thought we’d lost it but now? We have our chance to find a way to stop them. It’s real this time. And this time? I’m not leaving anyone behind. Not again.”

Not again. Never again.

This time, everyone comes home safe—and we get the chance to have a future without the Institute trying to shape it to their whims.

This time, they don’t get to win.