I look at him, returning his smug smile with one of my own. “And sometimes it’s impossible to hide it at all,” I answer, and the elevator doors close between us.

In the Tower

I return home and tell Jenna to go to the art gallery and stay with Miesha. Now. It’s not safe for her to stay here anymore. As I expected, she argues the point with me, but I argue louder telling her this is my Favor, not hers, and she has to trust me. She must sense my desperation, and she leaves, with the caveat that if I don’t check in with her she’d be back. As soon as she’s gone I pack up all evidence of plans and the Network and destroy them. If it’s not in my head, it’s gone.

My arm and hip scream with pain. Holding back Raine from the files and then running after her took its toll. Dammit! Hurry! “I don’t have time for this healing stuff!”

I check my bandages. The wound on my hip has torn, just as Jenna warned, and BioPerfect oozes from it again. I rummage through her supplies and find the tool that punctures and weaves the skin back together. I can’t use anesthesia. I sit down on my bed and turn the tool on and then press it to the torn part of my wound. It penetrates my skin and I grit my teeth to keep from screaming. Sweat pours down my face, trickling down my neck. The only thing more painful than a half-human ripping your flesh apart is a laser needle weaving it back together. My hand shakes, and with every burning pulse, color explodes behind my eyes, blacking out the room, but I keep the tool in place until it signals that the job is complete. The tool drops from my hand to the floor and I fall back on the bed. I don’t look to see if I did as good of a job as Jenna. I know I didn’t. Just so it’s closed, that’s all that matters.

I wake with a start to find that I’ve slept for two hours. I listen for noise in the apartment, an intruder, but the only sound is the whir of an occasional car passing on the street. I pull myself up, leaving all the lights off, and go to the kitchen to look out the window, which has a better view of the parkway. Nothing.

The meeting must be over by now. I see Raine’s face again, the shock and betrayal.

I close my eyes and brace myself against the kitchen counter taking several slow deep breaths. If only I had told her the truth sooner. Maybe then there would have been a chance. But by the time I admitted to myself that I loved her I had already lied myself into a corner.

We’ll discuss this matter later.

Is the Secretary grilling her now? Is she telling him what she saw? How much longer before there’s a knock on my door? Or maybe they’ll just burn me out the way they did Karden.

My palm ripples. I jerk my hand up and check my iScroll, praying it’s Raine, but it’s only Carver. “Off!” I yell.

Percel appears. “It’s an emergency, sir. I’m told to alert you at all costs.”

“It’s always an emergency with Carver,” I shout. “I said off!” I can’t recount the details of tonight’s meeting with him right now. There are too many other things I need to do. I need to check the apartment for any lasting evidence in case someone comes. I need time to think. I need—

* * *

The Commons is quiet. Deathly quiet. Not even the smallest rustling of animals in the bushes. Is it the chill in the air, or something else? I don’t sit on our usual tree. I hide in the shadows, afraid if she sees me she won’t come down, but she doesn’t come anyway. I wait hour after hour. The clouds thicken, weaving together until they block out the moon, and somehow that makes the silence even heavier.

Finally, near three in the morning she appears, a dark blanket wrapped around her shoulders so she’s barely visible. She walks the length of the rooftop, maybe the only place where she still feels in control. She leans against the roof wall, looking out, not searching down below for me, but just staring out past the treetops, probably staring at nothing at all. Is she retracing every moment we spent together, imagining that it was all lies? It wasn’t. She has to know that. What we shared …

I step out of the shadows.

I don’t have much more to lose, and I walk to the clearing so I’m in plain view if she would only look down. She finally does, like she senses she’s being watched.

She looks at me, and even from nine stories below and in the dark, I can see enough of her face to know the old Raine has returned. She has nothing for me. The blanket slips from her shoulders, forgotten, and she walks away, disappearing back into her father’s domain.

Wreckage

There are still no knocks on my door. No fires to burn me out.

She didn’t tell him. Yet.

But even not telling won’t save me for long. It doesn’t matter that I’m out of the Collective, and his daughter’s life. I have no doubt the Secretary’s still digging and has probably doubled his efforts to search my past. He spent far too long scrutinizing the injuries on my face, perhaps trying to match it up with the injuries a half-human might inflict. What throws him off, maybe even makes him lazy, is my age, my stature, my education, and my supposedly rich parents. I don’t fit his profile of a Non-pact with an ulterior motive. In that respect, the Network knew exactly what they were doing in choosing me and creating my background. In the Secretary’s mind I’m too much like the other kids in the Collective to be one of those animals he despises.

I’m out of the apartment early, taking the PAT to Cambridge. My three hours of sleep were short but determined. With the deadline looming and Carver itching to go to Plan B, there’s no time to waste.