The water ran cold over my shoulders, but I was too numb to shiver. I sat naked in the freestanding, porcelain-white tub, legs drawn tight to my chest, arms loosely draped around them. Derek poured another pitcher of water down my back, gently wiping away the dirt and dried blood with a soft cloth. I stared blankly into the murky gray-brown water lapping at my hips. His hands trembled as he moved my long, wavy brown hair from one shoulder to the other.

  He tilted my head back, pouring water over my crown. I braced my arms against the sides of the tub as he gently tugged on my hair, removing bits of twigs and pine needles. He massaged my scalp, loosening the blood matted there. The familiar scent of my shampoo made me gag. Derek pretended not to notice. I looked up at the crown molding on the ceiling and the ridiculous Gatsby-style chandelier hanging above the tub. I’d forgotten how grandiose his apartment was.

  It’d been several hours since Harry pulled me up from the forest floor. I didn’t know I had the strength to make a sound, but I hollered in pain when he threw me over his shoulder. At least his black puffer vest cushioned the blow. He wasn’t in his usual slacks. He’d come prepared to run in the cold. After what felt like an eternity, we crossed the low stone wall marking the boundary. The electric fence hummed faintly beneath it, keeping the Hounds confined by their collars.

  I heard the van’s door open automatically as we crossed the highway, and he set me down inside. He’d brought a first aid kit and quickly checked me over for injuries. The gouges on my calf were still bleeding.

  “Sorry, Miss. This’ll sting.”

  He poured a clear liquid from a jug over the deepest cuts. I screamed as they fizzed; my skin burned as tiny bubbles surfaced from the wounds. Then, to my amazement, the flesh began to fuse. He wrapped my leg in long adhesive bandages.

  “I need to throw up,” I announced. He was ready with a biodegradable waste bag. I dry heaved a few times. Nothing but a small string of bile left my lips. Each heave brought new waves of pain radiating through my bruised body—a vicious cycle lasting several minutes.

  “I’m sorry, Miss, we need to go. Right now.”

  He threw a blanket around my shoulders, and I laid down on the bench seat. I started shaking and couldn’t stop. I couldn’t hear what he was saying over my teeth furiously chattering. I went from cold to numb and eventually succumbed to the dark.

  I don’t know for how long I was unconscious. The sound of the van door opening woke me. I could feel Harry’s urgency as he carried me damsel-style through a parking garage to an elevator.

  “Hello, Harry. Which floor?” Alice’s familiar voice chimed from inside. Not my Alice.

  “Fifty,” Harry replied. “Password: amethyst.”

  Ah, Derek’s apartment. The elevator rose. I gagged with the motion, my head lolling against Harry’s arm.

  “We’re nearly there, Miss,” Harry reassured. His voice was calm, but concern deepened the fine wrinkles around his eyes. The doors opened with another chime, and we stepped into the hallway. I shut my eyes. It was too bright. The twinges returned in every joint, rolling through me in waves.

  Another door opened with a click, and a rush of air flowed over me from Harry’s brisk movements.

  “Harry, thank God!” Derek’s voice came from somewhere beside us. “Lay her here.”

  Harry obeyed, laying me on the living room chaise. I opened my eyes to see him backing away, but I frantically grabbed his hand.

  “I’m not leaving, Miss.” He patted my hand gently, kneeling beside me. The words were a strange relief.

  “Hi Mia, I’m Dr. Rubin.” A man in his mid-thirties wearing black scrubs stood on the other side of the chaise. “I’m here to examine your injuries. Is that alright?”

  Derek stood behind him, but I wasn’t ready to look at him. I just nodded at the doctor’s kind green eyes, and he immediately got to work, starting with vitals and a full-body examination. At some point, Derek pulled Harry into his home office either to give me privacy or to interrogate him on the night’s events. I didn’t ask, nor could I speak. I could hardly nod in reply to Dr. Rubin’s questions. When he finished, he propped me up on the chaise with pillows, covered me in several blankets, and returned to Derek and Harry, who were busy in the kitchen. The open floor plan gave me a clear view of their anxious faces.

  “The good news is most of the wounds are superficial,” Dr. Rubin said quietly. “I’m afraid that leg is going to scar. WarpSkin is a crude battlefield treatment. It’s effective, but the results are always ugly. It may be possible to correct with ArtSkin if it bothers you cosmetically.”

  “What about internal injuries?” Harry asked.

  “I don’t see any obvious signs, but I’m at a disadvantage without a VytalScanner. I can’t rule out concussion or anything more concerning. She’s responsive, but nonverbal. She’s likely in shock, but my advice is to get her scanned.”

  “No. I wouldn’t have called you if I could just take her to the hospital,” Derek said sternly. “No AI. No records.”

  “In that case, I’ve done all I can for her. Keep up with her pain management and anti-inflammatories and wait and see if she improves…or gets worse.”

  “Thanks, Jem,” Derek said, leading Dr. Rubin out.

  “Miss, I have to leave now.” Harry knelt beside me again, gripping my cold hand. The warmth transferred instantly, and I nodded. My eyelids were heavy now. The pain medicine and sedatives were kicking in. My mind was a blank page, too afraid to look forward or back. Harry offered a tentative smile before retreating to the door. My heart sank into my stomach—I was alone with Derek.

  “Come on, babe. Let’s get you cleaned up.” His voice was gentle, but it was still a command. My body refused to move. He lifted me with less ease than Harry, and a small whimper escaped my throat. I hardly remember how he helped me to the bathroom and into the tub. My mind was fixated on sleep.

  I woke up with a start in Derek’s bed. Momentarily, I forgot where I was. A place both familiar and foreign. Then the memories of my escape began intruding. I squeezed the sides of my head trying to physically suppress the details of how it all went horribly wrong.

  Looking down, I saw that Derek had managed to get me dressed in new pajamas. I wondered how long I had been asleep. Through the large windows, I could see the sun beginning to set. Voices carried from behind the bedroom door left ajar, and I slid out of bed to investigate the noise.

  “You can’t ignore us forever, Derek. How is she?” Julius’s voice carried from the entryway, smooth but edged.

  “Alive,” Derek shot back, his tone sharp and bitter, heavy with accusation. “Contrary to what you said.”

  “I was told there were no survivors from the containment of the breach. They found her belongings in the fire,” Julius replied evenly, almost bored.

  “Well, then I guess Harry must’ve arrived at the exact right moment,” Derek snapped sarcastically, voice rising, “What the hell did they DO TO HER?”

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  “Do not raise your voice to me.” Julius’s tone dropped, low and menacing. He stepped closer, straightening to his full height until he was eye to eye with his son. His fingers dug into Derek’s shoulders, knuckles whitening with the pressure of his grip. Derek grimaced.

  “Listen carefully,” Julius said. “Our analysts believe Mia was involved in a coordinated attempt to leak the trial data. You understand how catastrophic this technology would be in the wrong hands—especially now, with the nation this fragile. Whether she was coerced or complicit, we’re still left cleaning up the mass casualty event she caused.”

  Derek stiffened. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “It’s in everyone’s best interest to move forward,” Julius’s tone softening into something almost fatherly. “Your proposal has been a long time coming.”

  He gave Derek’s cheek a condescending pat before releasing him.

  Derek stared at him. “You want me to propose now? When she’s practically catatonic?”

  “Why delay?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, Father—maybe so she can give me a real answer? Maybe we should find out if her cancer is gone?”

  Julius’s eyes flickered with amusement. “She never had cancer.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’ve reviewed her records myself,” Julius said. “There was a clerical error.”

  Derek shook his head in disbelief, one hand covering his mouth as he stared at the floor.

  Julius sighed, impatient. “Be sensible, Derek. What’s more plausible—that your young, previously healthy girlfriend suddenly developed a rare, terminal cancer that primarily affects adolescent boys, or that MULLIS misdiagnosed her?”

  Derek stared, speechless, processing.

  “I’m glad you trusted your instincts, son,” Julius continued smoothly, stepping closer, closing the space between them. “Imagine what might have happened to her if you hadn’t been able to bring her in. I hope you continue to trust your gut.”

  Every word was chosen with threatening precision.

  Derek heard it too. His jaw tightened, voice low and deadly. “Get out, Father. I mean it. Leave.”

  Julius’s smile made me nauseous. I slunk back to bed as he turned for the door. No point in getting up now.

  A few days passed. I refused to eat or change clothes. Each day, I waited for Derek to leave before emerging from the bedroom. I spent my days on the balcony, looking out into the city. It was a shame it was enclosed with glass. Fifty floors was a long way down. I spent most of the time fighting visions of Harper’s candid chats, Elijah’s songs, Abe’s stories, and Dayna’s laughter interspliced with Dayna’s lifeless eyes staring back at me from the blood pooling beneath her, bullets ripping through the file room, the screams of Abe and Elijah gunned down by the Colossi, and the shrieks of the Hounds.

  I spent the rest of the time combing the apartment for wherever Derek was hiding the pain meds and sedatives. Half the bottles would do it, I guessed. Unsuccessful, I began to suspect he was carrying them on him. Frustrated, I went back to bed.

  Eventually, Derek couldn’t take it any longer. He crawled into bed beside me one night and shook my arm in desperation, then cupped my face, forcing me to look him in the eyes. The sincerity I saw there cracked the numbness held in my chest.

  “Mia, please talk to me. I’ve tried to be patient, to let you go first, but I have to know. What happened out there?”

  I sighed deeply, swallowing the lump in my throat and croaked, “We lost.”

  Saying it out loud released the sorrow just beneath the surface and it came pouring out in big, ugly sobs. Piercing gasps escaped my mouth in hyperventilated bursts. Derek pulled me to his chest and hugged me as tightly as he dared. His body shook too. I could feel his tears on my forehead. I didn’t resist. In fact, I clung to him like my only tether to the present, trying to free my mind of the before and after.

  “I’ll keep you safe now. I promise,” Derek whispered again and again. The worst part was, I could tell he believed it.

  I cried until I was numb again and exhausted. We both fell asleep.

  The next morning, I hazarded a shower, resentful of the effort, and got dressed for the first time in days. That’s when I noticed my clothes in the walk-in closet across from Derek’s. Apparently, he’d moved my entire wardrobe in, and that wasn’t all. A quick survey of the apartment showed he’d cleared a bookshelf in his office for my books and notebooks. He’d set up my desk with all my belongings. Even my favorite coffee mug waited for me on the kitchen island.

  Huh. I guess I live here now.

  The nausea returned, but I filled my mug with the pre-made coffee anyway. Hazelnut. Far better than the instant variety I’d been consuming for weeks. Weeks. My mind started to knit the pieces together.

  “We’re not sick—at least not the way they told us. They planned it from the beginning!”

  “Whether she was coerced or complicit, we’re still left cleaning up the mass casualty event she caused.”

  “Convenient, isn’t it? Gina’s daughter enrolled in the very trial she so vehemently opposed.”

  “She doesn’t have cancer…Imagine what might have happened to her…I hope you continue to trust your gut.”

  Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. I shook my head.

  I was about to sip when a loud knock at the door made me jump. Hot coffee splashed onto my fingers and across the countertop. I cursed, reaching for a towel to wipe it up before checking the cameras.

  Harry stood alone at the front entrance. Relief unclenched the muscles that had tensed involuntarily. He made his way upstairs, and I unlocked the door and stepped aside to let him in.

  “Good morning, Miss,” he said, following me into the living space. He was back in his pressed slacks, his usual composure restored. “I thought you should have this.”

  He set my overnight duffel bag from the resort on the coffee table, singed and half-melted. I stared at it, motionless—a visceral reminder of loss. But if it had survived the fire, had others?

  “Harry,” I blurted, “did anyone else make it out?”

  Harry’s eyes widened, and he cleared his throat. “Ah, no—sorry, Miss. I’m afraid all souls perished in the fire. There was an unfortunate laboratory explosion at the research facility. You understand?”

  I nodded bleakly. I understood too well. And I had no proof to the contrary. I covered my face, but I couldn’t hold back the tears. Harry rested a hand on my shoulder. I looked up at him as I silently wiped away the persistent drops as they fell. He spoke just above a whisper, eyes darting to the bedroom where Derek still slept.

  “You need to take care of yourself, Miss. I’ve known the Dravos for a long time. These people don’t make decisions like they’re leaving behind a legacy. They make their choices like they’re gonna live forever.” He paused to swallow, eyes heavy with pity. “Never underestimate the cost of loving someone like that.”

  His words stung, resonating long after he’d left. I tucked the bag away in the hall closet. It weighed almost nothing, yet carried the weight of worlds. I couldn’t bear it.

  A while later, Derek found me on the balcony again. I was sitting at the small round table for two, drinking my coffee, watching the city come alive. Everyone went about their day as if nothing had happened. And I supposed, for them, nothing had. They would probably never hear about the fifty people who had lost their lives up in the mountains. ViraRx would make sure of it. I fought the urge to hurl my mug at the glass.

  Derek sat down beside me, drinking his coffee. The numbness returned with the silence. He turned toward me and held out his hand. I reached for it instinctively—a touch that was both comfort and shackle, pressing a weight to my chest even as it sent shivers down my neck.

  “Mia,” he said quietly, still staring at our joined hands. “Will you marry me?”

  A low rumble through the floor sends vibrations up my toes, halting my testimony, like the aftershock of an earthquake, or...

  Speaking of explosions.

  I seem to be the only one noticing. The courtroom buzzes with speculation about my testimony, oblivious to the glitch on the data-scroll behind the holographic gallery. Counselors stand stunned. My testimony hangs like a live wire between us.

  “Everly,” Faith prompts, regaining control. “Are you saying that ViraRx not only administered the nanobot treatment knowing its fatal risks, but then erased all record of the trial by murdering those involved?”

  “Objection!” Daniel rises sharply. “The witness refers to an incident of containment, not murder. As she herself testified, the treatment caused biological changes that could have threatened public safety. Under the Containment Acts, every participant would have acknowledged these risks in their signed waivers.”

  Faith turns, incredulous. “You’re seriously arguing that every patient and staff member consented to execution in the event of a security breach?”

  “Euthanasia,” Daniel corrects. “We have to consider the historical context. ViraRx had a legal duty to neutralize any biological threat to public welfare. Their alleged actions were consistent with the 2033 Containment Acts, passed after the Avian Influenza Pandemic, compelling them to separate and deactivate any affected individuals as a public health safeguard. Everyone at that facility would have agreed to the risks of containment, including accidental loss of life.”

  Faith exhales through her nose. “Fine. I withdraw the question.” She pivots back toward me. “Everly—what did you mean when you said this was planned?”

  I open my mouth to speak, but Daniel cuts in again. “Objection! The witness refers to files that were never recovered. This line of questioning is speculative.”

  Not entirely true.

  Faith doesn’t flinch. “If she was misdiagnosed and coerced into treatment for a condition she never had, the contract she signed is void. That would nullify any legal claim to her, human or not.”

  Daniel’s tone sharpens. “That’s absurd! Even if the diagnosis was inaccurate, consent was given under the conditions presented at the time. The law doesn’t hinge on hindsight—it hinges on compliance.”

  “Enough squabbling!” Judge P1-L8 snaps, froth flecking his lips, spittle clinging to his jowls. “Let the witness finish! For the love of the Seven Sectors—what did you say to Derek’s proposal?”

  I grin despite myself. At least I have one fan. Is that a crack in your Neuralynk?

  “As I was saying…”