Even when she has another option—and a good one at that. Reed is a good catch, he knows. He has the ease of a human life to offer her. She could have Neptune and everything it represents—companionship, belonging, safety. To Galen, such circumstances seem perfect.

But she chose me. I’m going to make this up to her. All of it.

Galen sits up straight. “A few minutes ago when you were babbling—did you say you had an idea to get us out of here?”

35

A KNOCK on the door startles me awake.

One of the guards—I think his name is Tyrden—pokes his head in. “Everything okay in here?” he says. Tyrden is the friendlier of the two. The other one was assigned to duty, and he seemed disappointed to be supervising a teenage girl when he could be out looking for Reed’s kidnapper. But Tyrden volunteered to keep an eye out for me. So that was nice.

I sit up on the couch and motion for him to come in. “I guess I fell asleep.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to wake you.” He folds his hands in front of him, like he doesn’t have any intention of leaving. Obviously, he takes this whole babysitting thing seriously.

I’m not really in the mood for company though. Not with the thought of Galen out there in the wild, alone and possibly in danger—plus, the very real probability that my mom is going to go all Rambo on Neptune. Still, I can’t be rude to Tyrden—he might be the only person left in this town genuinely concerned for my welfare.

I give him a tight smile. In the light, I notice that he has a black eye. His lip looks swollen, too. He observes me observing him. “Don’t mind my little cuts and scrapes,” he chuckles. “I just fell down some stairs.”

I nod knowingly. I get war wounds like that all the time. It’s a clumsy-person thing. “Have they found Reed yet?”

“Not yet.”

I stretch my arms up over my head. Then I reach for my phone in my back pocket and check the time. Mom should be strategizing World War III from just outside of town right about now.

“Expecting a call?” Tyrden says.

“No, just checking the time.”

He nods absently, walking to each of the basement windows and locking them with a kind of careful deliberation. After he secures every one, he slides the shades down as well. “It’ll be dark out soon. Don’t need Kennedy snooping around and finding you.”

I didn’t think the windows posed any kind of threat, but I suppose if Kennedy were super-ambitious, he could finagle himself through one of them—with enough grease and wriggling. And of course, if the goal is to kill me, he did have a gun. Good for Tyrden for being meticulous. “Thank you,” I tell him.

He nods graciously, then eases down on the couch next to me, coming close to invading my space. Aw-kward.

“I thought I could tell you a story,” he says. “To keep your mind off things.”

“Um. Okay.” Because what else am I supposed to say?

“Let’s see. Where to begin? Oh, yes.” He leans toward me. “Did you know I used to run this town?”

“No,” I say, trying to sound interested. The same polite interest you show when a person starts talking about how they knitted a sweater for their pet hamster.

He nods. “Well, I did. That was before Reder decided he would be better at it, you see. Though I don’t really think he’s proven himself, do you?”

Talk about being put on the spot. “Um. I haven’t really been here long enough to judge one way or the other, you know?” I should get a trophy for my evasion skills.

Tyrden purses his lips. “That’s a good point. And how rude of me. I’d forgotten to ask how you’re enjoying your stay here in Neptune? Current circumstances aside, of course.”

“I like Neptune. Everyone here is so friendly.” I would expound on that with things like, “I fit right in,” or “It’s nice not to be an outcast here,” but I’m sticking with short answers for Tyrden. I mean, he might be one of those people who doesn’t shut up after they’ve started talking, and he’s already promised to tell me a story. I’d rather get on with it.

“Word is your grandfather sent you here. Does he plan on visiting anytime soon?”

Yep. In about an hour. “He never mentioned visiting. I think he just wanted me to see this place for myself.”

Tyrden nods knowingly. “He probably still has his hands full back home, huh? What with the uprising Jagen caused.”

My stomach feels like I swallowed an anvil. “What? You know about that?”

The smile that Tyrden gives me sends chills just about everywhere. “Of course, I do, Emma. The whole thing was my idea.”

Suddenly, there’s a thump against the basement door. Still reeling from our conversation, I fold my knees up to my chest as Tyrden gets up to investigate. He pulls a gun I didn’t know he had from the back of his jeans and aims it toward the door, walking with slow purpose. I feel fear and hope melting through me. Fear that Kennedy has found me. Hope that someone else has and is here to rescue me from Tyrden.

Several long seconds pass, and still nobody knocks on the door.

“Frank, is that you?” Tyrden calls, then presses his ear close to the door. I think Frank is the name of the other guard. When Tyrden gets no answer, he unlocks the door, careful not to make any noise. With one quick, smooth motion he pulls it open and repositions his gun for firing.

And the other guard slumps to Tyrden’s feet in a pile. My throat closes up around a scream.