Clancy’s back was to me as I stepped toward him, letting the room solidify around us. Dark wood, everywhere. Shelves that blossomed with books and files. A TV appeared in the corner and burst to life with a flash of silent color. A desk appeared in front of where Clancy sat, his hands poised in the air until the laptop appeared beneath his moving fingers, papers growing up from the surface of his desk in neat white stacks.

He must have left the window open. The white curtain he used to separate his bed from the rest of the office fluttered at my back, and the memory was clear enough for the sound of the kids at the fire pit below to drift up to my ears. A soft breeze brought in the damp, earthy scent of the nearby trees.

I shuddered. We were at East River.

The memory was moving now, throwing me forward with a lurch, but it was only at half speed. I stepped up behind where Clancy was working, dividing his attention between his father’s face on the TV set and the laptop in front of him.

I sucked in a sharp breath, and even though the rational part of my mind knew that none of this was real—I wasn’t here, and Clancy wasn’t actually here—I still couldn’t bring myself to touch him, not even to lean over his shoulder.

How is he doing this? This wasn’t a memory—it was something else entirely. It was walking onto a stage after a play had already begun. I’d crossed whatever barrier had kept me an observer, not a participant.

He took a deep breath, unbuttoning the collar of his shirt with one hand, typing in a web address...a password...

The Clancy sitting in front of me sank down in his chair, tilting his head back so he was looking up, almost like he was looking right at me—

“Did you get that?” he asked.

I shot out of his mind, dropping the connection before he could—he could—I don’t know, seal me in? Was that even possible? Could he—

The lights crackled back to life in the hallway, burning my eyes with the sudden intensity. I knew my head was still tripping, still locked in that initial panic, because all I could smell was that pine—the distant campfire smoke.

He’d moved back to the bed, reclaiming his makeshift ball. And it was so strange—once the memory cleared and the ground felt solid under my feet again, I wasn’t scared or even pissed off that he’d managed to wrest control away from me in the end. I was...curious. I’d never experienced him walking me through a memory in that way—at East River, he’d shown me memories of himself that he’d stitched together, but this was so...different. I had no idea that was even a possibility for us. The throbbing ache behind my eyes had disappeared, and, for the first time, the dive into his head didn’t leave me exhausted or disoriented. I was still riding on that initial high of overcoming his barrier, just for a second.

“See you tomorrow, Ruby,” Clancy said, tossing the plastic wrapper back up into the air. And as I walked out, clearly dismissed from his presence, I had the strangest feeling of lightness spreading through my chest, sparking and trembling and glowing. I’d held back the monster for too long, apparently. It needed to be let out, to stretch its legs, to remember how good the control felt.

I remembered now how good being in control felt.

I think I might have even enjoyed it.

There was one laptop left in HQ, and despite the number of Greens salivating to get a turn on it, their unspoken code of honor seemed to dictate that the kid Cate entrusted it to got ownership of it. Or at least first dibs.

So, at any hour of the day, you could find Nico working at the desk in the center of the otherwise empty computer room. Sometimes there was a small cluster gathered around him, crowding in over his shoulders and pointing at the screen, typing something in for him if he so much as leaned back.

“Those kids make vultures look like fluffy yellow chicks,” Cole said as we stood outside, watching them through the long glass window. “If he were to fall over dead, would they just push the body out of the seat and use it as a footrest, do you think?”

I snorted. “They’re bored. If we don’t give them something to work on, they’re going to start taking the electronic locks off the door to try turning them into cell phones.”

“Yeah, well, Conner is the one that’s supposed to be wrangling them. You and I sure as hell don’t have the patience for...” A Green girl let out a squeal as Nico surrendered the laptop to her. “...this.”

I had somehow managed to get through the day without letting my thoughts turn back to Cate and that expression on her face when she’d realized what Cole and I had done.

“Has she checked in yet?” I asked.

Cole rocked back on his heels, a crease forming between his brows. “Nope.”

“She should have listened to us.” I hadn’t realized the words were out of my mouth until Cole dropped a comforting hand on my head.

“Mark my words, Gem. Conner will come crawling back tomorrow, tail tucked between her legs when they reject her. This’ll be good for her. Everyone needs reality to punch them in the face every once in a while. Keeps you on guard.”

But that was just it. I didn’t want her knocked down like that. My anger had shallow roots. It had hurt me when she left; I didn’t have enough pride to act like it hadn’t. But I could understand her decision, that instinctive need she always had to mend fractures and soothe jagged edges. Cate couldn’t understand that the others would gladly abandon us, use us, hurt us, because she’d never once considered it herself.

To have that be our first and only conversation since we’d arrived at the Ranch—that was quietly killing me. I’d let her down so horrifically in Los Angeles, betrayed every last trace of trust she’d put in my ability to protect our team. I should have forced myself to say something to her before she left, any small conversation to start working my way back to her. Maybe it was too late now, and I’d missed my chance of trying to make things right between us.

That single, poisonous thought made me feel like I’d been turned inside out, dragged against the ground. I just didn’t know what to say, how an apology could ever be enough for her to forgive me. How do you pour the weight you feel crushing your chest into two little words? I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry....

I’m sorry wasn’t enough. Not for losing him. It echoed hollowly in the space he’d left behind. I’m sorry didn’t balance out all of the things he could have, and would have, been.

Cole gave a friendly wave to one of the Green girls, Erica, who glanced over. She went bright pink and ducked back down, blocked from sight by Nico. The ghostly blue light from the computer screen gave him the look of a half-frozen corpse. The lines of his face seemed deeper, harsher, the longer he concentrated.

“I don’t think this is a good idea to have him access Clancy’s server,” I said quietly. “His judgment is impaired where Clancy’s concerned.”

“Your reservations have been noted, Gem. But he’s our man on this. I’m willing to bet on him—Nico has the most to prove. He won’t let you or Cate down again, not if he can help it.”

“The if he can help it part is the problem.”

“Hey now. You got to plead Lee’s case. I get to do the same for Nico, and it’s your turn to deal.”

“Liam didn’t give confidential information about the organization to the enemy’s son, the same person who then not only betrayed us and him, but also possibly destroyed our one shot at a cure.” I turned my back on the scene in front of me, leaning against the glass.

“Right, but if he hadn’t involved Clancy, if you hadn’t been tricked into coming back, we wouldn’t even know a cure existed.”

I stared at him, momentarily speechless.

“Didn’t think about it that way, did you?” Cole shrugged. “The loss...it opens a hole you in, a goddamn black hole at the center of your world. It sucks in your thoughts before you even have time to stop and examine them, and it’s always hungry for more. It doesn’t hurt any less to weigh what you lost against what you gained, does it?”