Last but not least, Livvy checks in with me. She offers to come over and cook something hot for dinner. “Thanks, Livvy, but no. I think I’m going to turn in early tonight. I didn’t sleep well last night. I’ll fix myself something simple.”

She tells me to rest up.

“I will.”

“Locke,” she adds, and then hesitates. “Be careful.”

* * *

The moon is barely a sliver, peeking from behind clouds that drift past so slowly they look like they’re painted across the sky. There is no startling tonight. Everything is slow. I’m in plain sight sitting on the tree root. She’s in plain sight as she approaches.

Locke, be careful. Livvy knew I was leaving. Did she see it on my face? The lie? Or maybe it was in my voice? What was I not able to disguise?

Raine’s not in a hurry as she walks toward me. She must be confident that no one is watching her from above, or maybe she just doesn’t care.

No. She cares.

I’ve seen it in her eyes over and over again, quick furtive glances, but she knows her moves well—when it’s safe to sit on a rooftop, or climb down a rope, or talk to me. Maybe that’s where her study of chess comes in handy. I think about what she said that first night, about feeling like the smallest speck on the face of the planet. Was it a slip? Or did she just feel safe with me? I guess that’s my job. To make her feel safe. To get information. I don’t like this part of the Favor.

She stops a few feet away from me. “Couldn’t sleep again?” she asks.

I look at her, taking in every aspect, her voice, her hair, the way her hands hang loose and relaxed at her sides, the color of her skin under a sliver of moonlight. I’ve been studying her files day after day. So much is missing, so much the files don’t tell. The disturbed feeling I had when I first saw her has grown into something else. An intense curiosity. She’s more than just the Secretary’s daughter. More than my in, but what the more is, I’m not sure. “No. Still can’t sleep.”

She steps closer, her knees nearly touching mine, and she stares at me. I try to adjust my position on the tree root to escape her close scrutiny, but she doesn’t waver.

I swallow. “Something on your mind?”

“Volumes. There’s always a lot on my mind, but right now it’s you and wondering why you really come. I don’t know if I can trust you.”

“Only a week ago I saved your life, remember? Doesn’t that give me some sort of Level Ten trust status?”

She smiles. “You saved me from falling off a low bridge and getting wet. That’s all. Level Two status only.”

I watch the smile fade from her lips, but not entirely from her eyes. There’s definitely still a glimmer and it empowers me to know I put it there. “Only Level Two.” I sigh. “Looks like I have a long way to go.”

“Let’s walk.”

We walk toward the far end of the Commons near the burial grounds. She says she likes the fact that she can talk to everyone there and they don’t talk back, they just listen.

“Are you sure they’re listening?”

“I like to think so.”

“I’ll listen. Why don’t you tell me what you tell them?”

“Those are very private things,” she says. She looks at me sideways. “I think you’re probably the type that’s good at keeping secrets—but not as good as dead people.”

“You’d be surprised. I haven’t told anyone about your rooftop walks or our nightly visits.”

“Not even your mother?”

“Especially not her. That should elevate me to Level Three trust status.”

“Two and a half.”

“That’s something. I’ll take what I can get.”

I ask her about the Collective meeting in two days. She tells me two of the members won’t be there because they’re traveling out of the country. “Only six of us. Besides you and me, Vina, Shane LeGru, Cece Carrington, and Ian Dvorak will be there.”

“It’s at your house this time, right?” I already know this but I don’t want to let on that I have every detail of her life memorized—at least the details the Network has been able to gather.

“Nearly all the meetings are at my house. That’s the way Father prefers it.”

“And the others don’t mind?”

“If they do, they keep it to themselves.”

“Because he’s important?”

She reaches out and plucks an elm leaf from an overhead branch as we pass and twirls the stem in her fingers. “That’s right.”

“So tell me about him. What makes him so important?”

“I’m surprised you don’t know already. Everyone else seems to. My father’s Secretary of Security for the DSA, fourth in line to the president. It’s his job to keep us all safe.”

All? Hardly. I don’t think she has a clue about his dirty dealings or secret detainment centers. “Really? That does sound like an important job.”

She looks at me sharply. “Are you mocking him?”

I thought I said it sincerely, but maybe some of my cynicism seeped out. I note, however, that she’s defensive of him, loyal even. I make a mental note that it’s a subject to broach very carefully with her. “I don’t even know him. How could I mock him? I told you about my parents last night. Tell me about yours.”

She tosses the leaf in her fingers aside. “It’s only me and my father. My mother died when I was twelve. She was…” She shakes her head and I see the hardening of her face, like she’s blocking out the memory.