“No.”

Peri dropped the half-eaten piece of pizza in the box, watching LB fiddle with the injector pen, messing with her. She gave him a moot look, and he stopped, nodding to Fat Man. His bulk shifting like rocks, Fat Man dug out two vials from his pocket and set them on the table.

“And you trust that that’s what’s really in them?” LB asked.

There was at least two weeks’ worth there, maybe more, and Peri forced her eyes off the vials. “Not until I get it checked out. Look. I just want my Evocane, Allen, Harmony, and Jack so I can beat his ass at my leisure. We’ll get out of your hair, and you’ll never see us again.”

“I find that hard to believe.” LB took his phone back, angling it so she couldn’t see.

“I’m a simple girl,” she said, then realized it had become quiet. Everyone had left but for the two men watching Harmony, Jack, and Allen. Something was clearly going on.

“LB,” she said, feeling the need to move. “You’re right. Drafters are rare. Drafters like you who have found a way to deal with it on their own are even rarer. Last year, I would’ve lied to you, walked out of here, then headed the task to pull you in, get you wiped and working. A year ago I thought Opti was Camelot. A year ago I didn’t think a drafter could survive without an anchor. A year ago I was a Barbie doll with a license to kill.”

Her voice had risen, and she caught her anger. “I have little left now except the killing part. You’ve got a good thing here. Keep your nose clean and I won’t be back to bother you.”

Fat Man looked affronted, but LB was thinking even as he scrolled through the incoming texts. “Say I let you walk out of here. You said you could help me control it.”

Peri nodded. “There’s a man named Silas Denier. Doctor. Psychologist. He’s good at bringing drafters back from the brink when things get confusing. You can trust him to do what he thinks is right for you, not himself or anyone else. He won’t turn you in—especially if you drop my name. You got a pen? I’ll give you his number.”

“And what assurance do I have that he won’t sanitize me?”

“It’s called wiping, and he won’t. He hates Opti more than I do. Call him if you start to hallucinate,” she said, taking her own pen pendant that LB slid across to her and writing his number on the pizza box. “Don’t wait. It’s a signal you’re trying to remember something, and if you do, you won’t come back from it.”

She hung her pen around her neck, feeling more like herself. Fat Man growled something inaudible, sullen and angry.

“Silas can tell you what’s going on, why you remember until the timelines mesh, and why you forget after they do. Oh, and trust Fat Man, especially if you start to hallucinate. It’s the only occasion your intuition will lead you astray.”

LB’s brow furrowed. “Fat Man?”

Peri warmed as she looked at the big man. “Sorry. That’s what I’ve been calling you.”

“No, I like it,” Fat Man said, preening almost.

“And your intuition?” Peri said, eyeing the drugs on the table. “As long as you’re not hallucinating, trust your gut. You never forget anything, you just can’t recall it. The emotions never go away.” Her thoughts went to Silas, remembering the feel of his hand on her face, the heartache in his eyes when she pulled back from him, the longing for her to remember, the wish in herself to remember . . . maybe.

“What if my gut is telling me to shoot you and dump you in Lake St. Clair?” LB asked as he closed his phone down and tucked it away.

Perhaps the danger is past. “If you were going to do that, you would’ve done it by now. There’s no profit in it, which is exactly why I’m not going to tell anyone about you.” She refused to look at the vials again, but it was getting harder. There was a thump in the distance, and dust shifted down from the ceiling. “Unless you start drawing attention to yourself,” she added, looking up. Perhaps not.

“LB,” Fat Man warned, and Peri shrugged.

“Hey, it’s what I do. You want me to lie about it?”

LB lifted his chin to indicate Allen, Harmony, and Jack. “Okay, I believe you. But what about them? Can they keep their mouths shut?”

Peri fiddled with her pen. “Harmony will, sure. Jack and Allen weren’t there, so they don’t know. You could always come in and be trained. Not Opti, but Harmony’s group. Bring Fat Man with you as your anchor. It will take longer, but they’d probably wet themselves to get someone with your background.”

Head cocked, LB looked over her shoulder to Harmony and Allen. “Is that what you would do? If you could start over?”

“Hell no. I’d do exactly what you’re doing. Minus the illegal stuff—of course.”

LB smiled, taking one of the vials and tucking it in his pocket as he stood. One vial remained on the table with her injector pens; Peri’s smile vanished. “I don’t have the accelerator. It’s not going to do you any good.”

“It still looks rare to me.”

His eyes were bright in challenge, and she shrugged. Half was better than none, unless he got himself hooked. And it might not be bad having a potential source outside of her pocket. “Okay. Half.” Fingers shaking, she slid her injector pens and the last vial to herself. It was still warm from Fat Man’s pocket. Her shoulders slumped, and she took her first real breath in what seemed like hours. She had time now.

Fat Man dropped her belt pack and phone and diary on the table, and she put everything back on, starting to feel normal again. “What about my knife?” she asked as she tucked the loose pages back behind the cover of the journal, and LB grinned.

“It looks kind of rare to me, too,” he said, gesturing for her to join Allen, Harmony, and Jack, now freed apart from Jack’s hands still being cuffed.

“LB, don’t take this the wrong way,” she said as they merged into one group. “But I’m proud of you.”

Fat Man snorted, and LB gave her a sideways smile. “It’s not you,” he admitted. “It’s the government choppers going overhead and the old white guy with the bullhorn. You’re hot goods, lady, and I want you off my island.”

“Steiner?” Harmony blurted. “He’s here? I thought we lost him.”