Vengeful

“Corporal Rios.”

She looked up, saw a man standing in the doorway. He had salt-and-pepper hair, and tired eyes. “I’m the director of this facility,” he said. “My name is Joseph Stell.”

Rios struggled to sit up.

They’d bound her ribs so tight it still felt like there was a building weighing down on her.

“Please,” said Stell. “Don’t strain yourself.” He glanced around, but there were no visitors’ chairs, so he ended up hovering next to the bed. “You’re lucky to be alive, soldier.”

“That’s what they keep saying.”

He gave her a knowing glance. “You think it’s more than luck?”

Rios didn’t answer. There was something weighted about the question. He wasn’t just making small talk. He knew. What she’d said to her superior, what she’d shown him.

“Do you know where you are?” pressed Stell.

“I know this isn’t a normal hospital,” said Rios. Stell didn’t deny it.

He simply nodded, looked around. “This is a place for people like you.”

“For soldiers?”

“For EOs.”

He said the word like it was supposed to mean something. It didn’t. Her confusion must have registered, because he went on.

“Power is a weapon, Corporal. You know how dangerous those can be. It’s my job to make sure these kinds of weapons don’t hurt anyone.”

Rios shook her head. “Look, I was just doing my job. I don’t know what happened back there—what happened to me—but I’m glad it did. It saved my life. It made me stronger. So send me back, and let me—”

“I can’t do that,” cut in Stell.

“Do you intend to keep me here?” she demanded.

“I don’t know if we could,” he admitted. “More importantly, I don’t know if we need to. I’m hoping, Corporal Rios, that you and I can reach an agreement. This is rather uncharted territory. You see, you’re the first EO who’s ever turned themselves in.”

“What was I supposed to do?”

“Most people in your position choose to run.”

“Why?” asked Rios. “I’m not a criminal.” She straightened, despite the pain. “I’ve spent my whole life running toward the fight. And now I’m just supposed to stop? To surrender? Because I survived? No. I don’t think so.”

To her surprise, Stell smiled. “You’re right. Your talent makes you stronger. It makes you . . . equipped to face a different degree of danger. If you still want to serve your country—”

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” cut in Rios.

“Then perhaps,” said Stell, “there is a way you can.”

June hummed as her fingers slid over the keyboard.

She had to hand it to EON. They had a very user-friendly system, and half a minute later she’d found the file she needed. It had been labeled alias: june. She skimmed through, curious to see what they’d found—which wasn’t much. But still enough to merit the trip.

“Good-bye,” she whispered, erasing the file—and herself—from the system.

June went out the way she’d come in.

Retraced her steps down the hall, past security and the gates, back to the waiting black coupe. June opened the car door, and by the time she climbed behind the wheel, she was herself again.

Not the leggy brunette, or the thin teen, or any of the dozen faces she’d recently worn, but a spritely girl, with strawberry curls and a splash of freckles across her high cheeks.

June let herself sit in that body for a moment, breathe with her own lungs, see with her own eyes. Just to remember what it felt like. And then she reached out and started the engine, sliding into something safer. The kind of person you wouldn’t look twice at. The kind who gets lost in the crowd.

June glanced in the rearview mirror, checked her new face, and drove away.

Syd shoved the burner phone back in her pocket. She heard the car door open, Mitch’s heavy steps in the grass as he approached.

“Hey, kid,” he said. His voice was so gentle, as if afraid of telling her the truth. But Syd already knew—Victor was gone. She stared at the distant skyline of Merit, shoved her hands in her coat, felt her sister’s bones in one pocket, the gun in the other.

“It’s time to go,” she said, returning to the car.

Mitch turned on the engine, pulled back onto the highway. The road stretched ahead, flat and even and endless, almost like the surface of a frozen lake at night.

Sydney resisted the urge to look back again.

Victor might be gone, but there was still that thread, tangling their lives. It had led Sydney to him once before, and it would lead her there again.

No matter how long or far she had to look.

Sooner or later, she would find him.

If Sydney had anything, it was time.