We’ll both be safe.

This time.

I come back to myself in the pizza place, standing in the aisle, halfway to the door. The broad plate-glass window stretches in front of me, and beyond it, the sunshine of the fall afternoon. I jerk as something touches my back, and I spin, ready to throw my arms around Jackson.

But it isn’t him.

It’s Carly.

Somewhere in the recesses of my brain, I remember what happened right before I was pulled by the Committee. It was an eternity ago and only a second ago that I leaped from the booth and dashed to the door. I remember Carly telling Jackson to let her out of the booth.

“You okay?” she asks, sliding her arm around my waist, there for me when I need her, all forgiven.

I look up, over her shoulder, and see Luka standing by the booth. I sag with relief at the sight of him. He made it. He’s alive. Carly tightens her hold, keeping me upright.

Tyrone, I mouth to Luka. He gives a short nod. I close my eyes, slapped by relief. They both made it out. Kendra? Lien? Again, he nods.

My gaze skates to the booth, to Jackson.

He’s not there.

With a gasp, I take a step forward, breaking from Carly’s hold. Frantic, I spin full circle, checking the whole restaurant.

But Jackson’s not there.