“Can you try? We don’t have any other choice.”
Trying not to hyperventilate, I slowly nod.
Pushing everything out of my mind—for now—I clutch the tiger’s eye I wear at my throat and inhale deeply.
He watches me like he’s waiting for me to transform into a bird or something.
“Stop looking at me,” I whisper. “You’re distracting.”
“There you are.” Smiling, he exhales in a rush. “Anything you say. Let me know how I can help.”
“Close your eyes and shut up.”
He does as he’s told, but his mouth twitches at the corner.
Shutting my eyes, too, I will my racing heart calm, empty my mind, try to act on instinct alone. We’re alone in a closet… An image of us kissing flashes through my brain, and my eyes fly open, meeting Garrett’s watchful gaze.
“Anything?” he asks.
I glare at him. “You’re not helping.”
“I like watching you work,” he says, but thankfully, he shuts his eyes.
I focus on a spot over his shoulder, this time imagining Simon, trying to visualize the Corvette without having any idea what it looks like. I’m grasping at straws. “I have no idea what I’m doing,” I say, my mind reeling. “We’re screwed.”
“Keep trying. You’re our only hope, Obi-Wan.”
Nerd. But warmth washes over me at the fact that he can reference movies that are a hundred years old.
The wall screen clicks on, and we both jump, knocking heads. I’m certain we’re done for. The screen illuminates, casting us in soft blue light, before clicking off. A second later, it clicks on again before going dark.
Rayelle.
“Now,” I yell. “Go. Open the fridge.”
Garrett throws open the door.
Holding our breath, we wait for an alarm, for bullets.
Nothing happens.
“Is the box in there?” I ask.
He pulls out an ancient-looking gold jewelry box covered in symbols. Mesmerized, I momentarily forget where I am, running my fingers over the etchings, studying them, noticing the distinct outline of a key in the center.
“Give me the ring,” Garrett says.
I slip it off my finger and hand it to him. He inserts the stone in the lock and twists it to the right. Nothing happens. He twists to the left. Nothing. To the right again. Still, nothing.
His face goes pale. “I don’t think the ring is the key.”
Chapter Forty-Five
March 20X6, Menlo Park
“It has to be!” Snatching the ring out of his hand, I examine it. “The stone is red. When Nicki wore it, it was always blue or purple.”
“It’s biometric,” he says, his jaw dropping. “It must change color based on mood—only someone calm can open the box—and it’s probably connected to Simon’s AMPs. We need to get it back to blue before he gets an update on her mood.”
“How are we going to do that?” The ring trembles between my fingers.
“Put it back on. It’s probably red because you’re agitated. Try to calm down.”
“I don’t want it reading me. You put it on.” I thrust it toward him.
He frowns. “You already had it on. Besides, it won’t fit me. Hurry up and put it on. We don’t have time.”
“Lucky you,” I mutter, slipping the ring back on my finger. It flares to bright orange.
“Take some deep breaths. In through your nose, out through your mouth.” He massages my shoulders.
“Would you stop?” I push his hands away.
“Look at me.” Cupping my chin, he forces my eyes to his. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Ellie, I promise.” His hand glides along my jaw, nestling next to my ear, making my neck ache in a good way. “We’re going to do this. Together. Breathe with me.”
We sit, focused on each other, the only sound the mingling of our breath. To my surprise, I do trust he’ll protect me, and as my defenses relax, I get lost in him. Heat reverberates between us.
“Do you feel it, too?” he whispers, searching my face.
“Feel what?”
“This.” He gestures between his head and mine. “It’s like we’re tied together. Linked in some cosmic way.”
I can’t deny the tugging in my center, that some invisible force is at work, an energy storm crackling to life, and I nod. “I don’t like it.”
A slow smile plays across his face. “Me neither.”
It’s like a tornado whips through the room, thrusting us together, pinning us in the eye. Before I can respond or think, he tilts my face up, and his full lips meet mine. Color explodes in my brain, my synapses firing electricity, raising goose bumps on my arms. He coaxes my mouth open, his tongue pressing inside, and I want to inhale him. My frenzied fingers wind into his hair, craving the pressure of his body, unable to pull him close enough. His energy fills me, and I’m caught in the vortex where he’s all I know—all that matters. Wound together in a dizzy swirl, we’re bound by gravity, by a force so heavy we could sink through the floor without noticing.
His lips become gentle, slowly caressing mine, and the realization seeps in that time matters, too.
I break the kiss, resting my forehead against his, getting my bearings.
He blinks, seeming as dazed as I feel.
Glancing down at the ring, I recover. “Hot pink? Nice work.”
Back to his nonchalant self, he smirks. “I think hot pink feels pretty good.”
I narrow my eyes. “Listen. We don’t have time to get into it right now, and I don’t know what that was, but as far as I’m concerned, it never happened. And it will never happen again. Agreed?”
“No problem.” He shrugs. “Now let’s get this box open. Look at me.”
“Uh-uh. No way.” I raise the ring on my left middle finger. “Hot pink.”
He laughs. “Fine. Don’t look at me. Do you have a happy place? Maybe try to go there?”
It’s not a bad idea. Closing my eyes, I imagine getting lost in the Vault. My heart rate slows.
“Green. It’s working,” Garrett says. “Where are you? What makes you happy?”
“The Vault. I’m in the Vault.”
“That’s funny. That’s where I’d go, too.”
I peek at the ring. It starts to turn black. “Don’t ruin this for me.” Pivoting so my back is to him, I focus on the ceiling, imagining wandering through the Vault’s version of the Louvre, trying to contain the emotions swirling inside me. Forget the kiss. Forget how he makes you feel. Send out calm, and you receive calm… I picture myself standing on a mountaintop above a green valley, the sun warm on my back. Nobody can hurt me. Everything goes silent, and, overwhelmed with peace, with oneness, I relax. The ring turns blue. Slipping it off my finger, I turn around, insert it into the lock, and twist to the right. I pray it hasn’t changed color. “Please work.”
The box clicks open. Inside, nestled among red velvet folds, is an old-fashioned memory stick.
“Wait!” My instinct is we should take the whole box, but Garrett grabs the memory stick before I can stop him. The second he does, a deafening alarm sounds. Screaming, undulating waves pulsate in my ears. My calm evaporates, and I can’t think straight. Slamming my hands over my ears, I freeze.
“Run!” Garrett yanks me to my feet, his wits somehow intact.
“Hold on.” Picking up the jewelry box, I have the sense to shove it into his pack.
“No time for souvenirs, Ellie.” He drags me into the bedroom, and I don’t argue.
“We can’t go out the way we came…the shotgun wall!” I yell. “And Simon definitely knows now—who knows what other traps he’s activating.” I’m positive bullets will ravage my body any second.
“This way.” Garrett pushes me toward the balcony, where he feels around for a latch to open the slidi
ng glass wall.
Knowing we probably need a command to gesture the doors open—or to be recognized as Simon himself—I do the first thing I think of. Taking my tactical pen from the pocket on my thigh, I hurl myself in front of Garrett and slam the tip into the center of the door. It explodes in a shower of glass. Shielding our eyes with our arms, we escape to the balcony through the debris.
A police helicopter appears overhead, spotlighting us, and in the distance, Simon and a parade of cops sprint toward the house with guns drawn. Wasting zero time, we clip our carabiners to the balcony railing. Garrett grabs my hand. “Do you trust me?”
I nod.
“Then jump.”
But I’m one step ahead of him. Hurling myself off the balcony, I drag him down with me.
Chapter Forty-Six
March 20X6, Menlo Park
We land on our feet. The second I’m on the ground, adrenaline (finally!) takes over. A current vibrates through me, and I’m invincible. Garrett keeps my fingers wound in his. The helicopter spotlights us as we bolt into the woods, and I’m a star.
My ears ringing from the alarm, each footfall sounds to a rhythmic beat, and it’s like I’m flying. At a full sprint, I dodge branches with a flick of my head, ducking, turning, jumping with fluid ease.
I’m a “bad” guy. And I love it.
Overhead, the canopy of trees thickens, blocking out the light from the helicopter.
“Do you know where we’re going?” I pant, hoping the cops aren’t hot on our trail. We had a decent head start, and the way I’m feeling, I’m positive I can outrun them.
“There’s a safe house—one of only a few places on earth that truly has no service,” he says between breaths, yanking me to the right. “The trees are too tall. The satellites can’t find it. Even if the algorithm can be tracked, its signal will be scrambled. We’re lucky Simon lives nearby. Our location will be obvious to Keystone faculty. Abignail will contact us. We just have to get there.”
We duck under a low branch.
“Does Nash know about it?”
“He shouldn’t.” He drags me left. “I only know about it because I won the Quest. It’s level-three classified. Every time you add to the Vault, you get a bonus—I purchased the level-two locations with the Coke recipe—but as far as I know, Nash never earned anything beyond level two. He hasn’t proven very useful since his initiation.”
“Are there levels beyond three?”
Our footfalls pound the dirt.
“Yes, but they’re reserved for a very select group of Disconnects. I don’t know their locations. Yet.”
“How can you be so sure you’ll get access?”
“I’ve never considered myself common. Neither should you.”
A craggy bush catches my suit, and I drop his hand to detangle myself, shoving the branches aside. He pauses, waiting for me, and I scurry to keep from slowing us down.
“Does Kyran know Nash?” I ask as the thought strikes me, catching up. We sprint onward.
“He doesn’t. He shouldn’t. Kyran came to Keystone after Nash was initiated. Why?”
“Just a weird feeling is all.”
“Kyran doesn’t know where the safe house is, either, so there’s no danger of him telling anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Bumping my shoulder, he directs me to the right. “Nobody is going to find us until we want them to.”
We keep running. The deeper into the woods we go, the more likely our escape feels.
“Are we there yet?” My side cramps, and my lungs heave. I long to double over.
“Almost.”
This deep in the forest, the trees blot out the sky and it’s nearly pitch-black. Garrett throws out an arm, slamming me to a halt in front of a giant redwood tree.
“We’re here.”
To me it looks like every other tree in the forest, but he clearly sees something special in it. “This is the safe house?” I ask.
“What were you expecting? A penthouse? You Influencers are hard to please…” He kicks the side of the tree. “But don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll find it more than comfortable.” As his foot connects with the trunk, the forest floor drops out beneath my feet, sucking me down a hole. “Have a seat.”
“I hate you!” I scream, landing in a net at the bottom of the dirt pit.
Laughing, he jumps down after me. “I told you I’d hear that again tonight, though ‘hot pink’ makes me think otherwise.”
“Then you definitely needed the reminder.” I glower at his silhouette in the darkness. Standing, I rub my bruised elbow.
He pulls the trapdoor shut over our heads. Clicking on his penlight, he shines it at me. “You’re looking pretty rough.” As he smudges his thumb across my cheek, something hot smears toward my ear. “We’ll get you cleaned up. But first, we climb.” He illuminates a ladder built into the inside of the hollow tree. “Follow me.”
I allow him a small head start before scaling the iron ladder. It’s cold and dark inside the tree, the only light coming from the penlight Garrett holds between his teeth. We climb for what feels like forever, and I’m grateful I can’t see how high we are thanks to the cramped blackness. My ears pop as the tree narrows around us, and I sense we’re nearing the top.
Above me, Garrett stops and unlatches a small door, casting us in silvery moonlight. Following him through the opening, I crawl out onto a suspension bridge precariously strung between the tips of the trees. Damp wind pricks my cheeks, but I’m grateful for the sobering air as I stare through the bridge’s slats. Three hundred feet below us, the forest floor is an unidentifiable black abyss. Frozen, I dig my fingers into the wood, not caring about the splinters that gouge my hands.
The bridge shudders with Garrett’s footsteps. “Are you coming?” he asks, towering above me.
“Yes.” Invincibility still pumping in my veins, I push myself to my feet. Nudging him aside, I take the lead, the bridge swaying dangerously from side to side until we reach a wooden porch attached to a small, redwood treehouse. It has windows on all sides but is so entangled in branches and morning glories they’re barely visible. Picking the lock, he ushers me through a hobbit-sized door and shuts us inside. The interior is simply furnished with a low tweed couch, white fur rug, and a vintage red electric fireplace.
“We made it.” I exhale. Collapsing on the rug, I lean against the couch, pushing my mask off my face. “Now what?”
“We wait for instructions.” He flips a switch on a brown box with black knobs and white speakers sitting on a small table. The room fills with buzzing static before he turns the volume down. “Abignail will send us a Morse code message using radio waves. We’ll be able to hear them on this frequency.”
“How long will that take?”
“Don’t know. Hopefully we hear in a few hours. We have to get the algorithm into the right hands before Simon launches his Quinn update.” He props open a window.
The night breeze is welcome after our run, but the room quickly cools. “What do we do until then?” I ask. The kiss instantly flashes through my mind, and a glance at him tells me he’s thinking the same. “Never mind.” I grimace, rubbing my arms. “Don’t answer that.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Why? Is the prospect of spending a few hours alone with me giving you chills?”
“It’s the wind. Definitely the wind.”
He laughs.
“Aren’t you cold?” I ask.
“Nope. I still have too much adrenaline, but this should help warm you up.” Kneeling next to the fireplace, he turns a dial, and the logs light up, blasting me with heat. “Do you want to see if there’s any food in this place? I’m starving.”
My stomach growls, and I realize it’s been hours since we’ve eaten. I drag myself to my feet and head to the kitchen.
Opening drawers and cupboards, I hunt for food. Garrett joi
ns me and puts a pot on the stove, heating water from a jug left on the counter.
I squeal with delight when I find an unopened bag of Goldfish crackers.
“Jackpot,” I say, waving the bag at him before returning to the couch.
He follows with a dishcloth and a bowl of hot, soapy water. “Before you get too comfortable, let me look at that cheek.” Sinking down next to me, he lifts my chin and dabs at the cuts. “Luckily, there isn’t any glass imbedded in here. That was quick thinking, Ellie. I’m impressed.”
The only light comes from the full moon filtering in through the windows and the red glow of the fireplace, but his face is so close to mine I can see a tiny scar under his right eyebrow. My pulse throbs in my throat. “Why do you call me Ellie?”
“Because you’re not Ella and you’re not Elisha. You’re someone in between. Someone I’d like to know.” Without meeting my eyes, he keeps dabbing.
Butterflies flap to life in my belly. The heat from the fireplace sweeping over me, my muscles relax. My defenses fall away as he tugs me under his spell. Fearing a closet reenactment, I change the subject. “So, I was your mission and you were too busy hooking up with Faye to meet me on time?”
Frowning, he dunks the cloth into the bowl, tinging the water red. “No. I told you I never hooked up with Faye.”
“Why don’t you tell me the truth, then?”
He takes a deep breath. “I suppose I owe you that much.” Pressing the cloth against my face, he cups my cheek. “Our mission was to steal you, but everything went wrong. It was my fault. The bomb was supposed to be a distraction—there would be an explosion on the yacht, and Faye would spread a rumor you were on it. Meanwhile, I’d take you to Allard. Nobody was supposed to get hurt.”
His words reverberate through me, refusing to penetrate. “You planted the bomb?” I whisper, realization seeping in. “You killed my friends.” Dizzy, I push him away. Covering my mouth and nose with my hands, I breathe into them, trying to comprehend.
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