We head back to Toluca Lake. Twice during our journey we run into Omega patrols, but we outnumber them and we overpower them easily. By the time dawn is breaking over Hollywood Hills, I am bone tired. I can barely lift my feet and keep my eyes open. Each step is robotic. Even the joy of knowing that we have rescued Chris is not enough to energize my body. I am worried that he might not wake up. I am worried that Derek won’t make it out of Los Angeles.

Our rendezvous point is a house. A mansion, technically speaking. It’s just outside of Toluca Lake, hidden behind a fence overgrown with shrubs and trees.

“Alexander?” I say. “Is this the right place?”

“This is it.” He shoves his boot into a crevice and begins pulling himself over the fence. “Start climbing.”

“How are we going to get Chris over this thing?” Vera asks, motioning to his still form on the stretcher.

“We’ll open the gate,” I say simply.

I dig my heels into the brick wall and use the thick foliage and vines to pull myself up. I reach the top of the wall and study the house. It’s a large two-story mansion. The entire façade has been overgrown with foliage and twisting vines. It’s almost impossible to find the windows.

I swing my legs over the top of the wall. We follow a cobblestone path to the front gate. We unlock it and swing it open. The rest of the militia cautiously moves inside, Uriah and Andrew bringing Chris in on the stretcher.

In the early morning sunlight, Chris’s complexion looks pale. Wrong. I press my fingers to his neck, nervously making sure his pulse is still there. It is, and I sigh with relief.

“Check it out,” I tell my team.

Wounded and exhausted, I let Uriah and Alexander lead the recon team around and inside the mansion, making sure there are no signs of Omega or unsavory individuals. The scouts report back, and Alexander gives the all-clear signal.

I cradle my aching wrist. It’s swollen, black and blue. Every step brings a throbbing sensation of pain. We pass the threshold of the front door. It’s cold inside. Musty, dusty. Dark. Rooms full of expensive, dusty furniture. Two sets of stairwells separate from the main hall, leading to an ornate second level.

“Take Chris upstairs, into one of the bedrooms,” I say. “I’m going to need a medic.” I pause. “Or two.”

“Roger that, Commander,” Andrew replies.

“Manny, you tend to that shoulder,” I command.

He winces, but still offers a smile.

“Yes, ma’am,” he says.

“And Manny?”

He raises an eyebrow.

“Thank you for getting us out of there,” I tell him. “You saved our lives.”

I wrap my arms around his neck and give him a warm hug. An exhausted hug. One filled with relief and gratitude and disbelief — yes, we’re still alive. Really. Manny smells like sweat and smoke and fuel. He gently returns the hug, then steps away.

“It was a pleasure, my girl,” he murmurs, watching the men haul Chris on the stretcher up the stairs. “Just make sure he wakes up.”

“I will,” I say.

I turn and follow Chris’s still form up the stairwell. After the record-breaking adrenaline of the last few hours, I feel like I’m coming down from an epic high. It’s like getting hit by a truck.

“Here is fine,” I say, motioning to a bedroom on the left. This must have been the master bedroom. There’s a huge bed, a massive dresser and closet, and the carpet is soft beneath my feet. Too soft. I feel like I’m ruining it.

They lay Chris on the bed. I take a seat on the edge and slip my fingers through his. He doesn’t twitch. He only breathes in and out. In and out. He hasn’t woken again since the helicopter went down.

I press a soft kiss against his forehead.

“Please, wake up,” I whisper. “I love you.”

At this point, my prayers are all I have left.

“My brother isn’t big on romantic stuff,” Jeff Young says. “It’s kind of a wonder that he is the way he is with you.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good thing,” I reply. “I feel like he loves me, but I don’t know. He doesn’t talk about that kind of stuff. He just…is.”

“Yeah, that’s Chris,” Jeff agrees, laughing. He’s such a good boy. Good looking, funny, caring, sympathetic. Where Chris is rough, Jeff is sweet, and where Chris won’t discuss things, Jeff opens right up. They are, in so many ways, like night and day. And yet they’re alike.

“Do you think he cares?” I ask Jeff. I rest my hands on my knees. We’ve been in Sector 20 for two weeks now, and we’re about to roll out to the Chokepoint to face Omega’s five-million man army. Both of us are young, nervous and afraid.

“Cares about what?” he replies.

“About me. Do you think he really cares?”

“Come on, Cassidy. Of course he cares. He wouldn’t have made an effort to rescue you from the labor camp if he didn’t care,” he says. “He wouldn’t be here now.”

“I don’t want him to stay with me out of some kind of moral obligation to keep me safe,” I sigh. “I want him to want this.”

Jeff grins, and he takes both my hands in his.

“Cassidy, my brother loves you,” he says. “He doesn’t say it, but he shows it. You and I both know that.”

I press my forehead against Jeff’s and take a deep breath.

“If we get out of this alive,” I promise, “you and I are going to be besties.”

“We already are, Cassidy.” He kisses my cheek. “We’ve always been.”

I wake up suddenly, the memory slash dream ringing clearly in my brain. Jeff Young is dead. He’s no longer around for me to confide in. I close my eyes and burrow into the warmth of the pillow, the blankets soft around my shoulders. My wrist is wrapped in thick bandages. It’s painful, but necessary.

“Cassie.” I feel his breath on my neck before I feel his touch. “Hey, I know you’re awake.”

I open my eyes and look up, flat on my back. Chris is looking down at me. His face is weary, but he’s smiling. It’s a beautiful sight. His green eyes — those vibrant, electric green eyes — are ringed with pain and tiredness. But he’s awake. And alive.

“Chris!”

For the first time in forever, I explode with joy. I haven’t been this happy since I found my father earlier this year. I fling my arms around Chris’s neck and cry, sobbing out of sheer relief and happiness. He presses his fingers against my waist and kisses my neck. “It’s okay,” he says. “Cassie, it’s okay. Don’t cry. Shhh.”

But when I pull away and study his face, there are tears in his eyes, too.

“What happened?” I whisper.

“War happened,” he replies. He gently brushes his lips across my cheeks, catching my tears with his thumbs. “You crazy girl. You shouldn’t have come all this way for me.”

“I wasn’t alone,” I reply, holding him tightly. I love the way it feels to be in his arms again. I feel safe. Whole. “Everyone here came of their own free will.”

“So you didn’t bribe anybody into it?” he smiles.

“Ha. No.” I kiss his forehead, his cheeks. “Oh, my God, Chris. I missed you. I was so worried. I thought you were dead.” I start to cry again. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

“I know, sweetheart. I’m sorry.” He holds me close, rubbing comforting circles into the small of my back. “You’re amazing, you know that?” My head sinks into the pillow. He gazes at me with an incredibly gentle expression. “Why did you do this, Cassie? You didn’t have to.”

“Yes, I did.” I trace my finger along his jaw. “I love you. You came for me when I was imprisoned. It was my turn to come for you. I wasn’t going to let you die.”

“You should have.” Chris looks sad. “You put yourself in unnecessary danger.”

“That can’t be helped. Not anymore.”

“It can be helped if I have anything to do with it.”

“Well, you were a POW, and you didn’t have anything to do with it.” I laugh. “They voted me Commander. Can you believe that? Me. How weird is that?”