Sienna lay quietly in bed, still. Sleep wasn’t going to come any more easily than it had in the last few weeks. Ever since she’d found her mom lying dead on the floor, sleep would only come when she reached a state of utter exhaustion, only letting her rest long enough that she could start moving again. Short bursts, naps in between nightmares, was all the rest she got now.

Still, there was no need to wake Jace. If Keila was right, they had hard days coming, and soon. If he could sleep, then let him sleep. She slid from bed, allowing his hand to glide over her body and gently fall away. He grunted in his sleep, wrapping his arms around the pillow in her absence, but he didn’t wake. She dressed silently and left the room, walking outside to where she could practice.

Things were going to get completely crazy, perhaps even within days, and she had to be ready. Her power had to be strengthened and brought under control if they were to have any hope at all. She refused to be the weak link. Sienna sat on the front steps, allowing the cold morning air to wake her up. She stared at a potted cactus on the porch. Wasn’t there enough of those things sprouting naturally around here already? She focused on it. The pot was small, plain. She could get rid of it, shoot it across the property, bouncing it along the ground until it was merely pieces. She’d already managed that with a giant boulder. How hard could a cactus in a pot be? The light shimmered inside her as she stared, but Sienna cut it off. Yeah, she could throw stuff around, but that was all. She wanted more.

Anger was the emotion behind the destruction. She could feel it coursing through her, and after just a few tries, it was already easier to call up. But what if she didn’t want to destroy the pot? Could she simply pick it up? What did she need to do to simply lift something? What happened if she was holding something and she let the anger get the better of her? She closed her eyes as her muscles clenched tight. There it was. There was anger inside her—there always was. Anger toward those who killed her mom, more recently for what had been done to others. And now? There was a new, festering wound. She was mad at her mom, and mad at herself. She didn’t want to be the key, the link that everyone needed. She was especially angry at her mom for making her what she was. Creating her to fight an army and then abandoning her, right when she needed her most.

Her eyes snapped open and the pot shot to the top of the stucco ceiling and shattered.

More destruction. There had been enough of that in her life. Enough running. She wanted something more. She could do something more. If only her mom had left her something to go on, more than just vague information hidden away in dusty old boxes. Sienna placed her hands behind her, leaning back, her mind drifting back to what Payton had said earlier. Her emotions were the key, but they weren’t everything. If she controlled them, she’d control it all. The anger was explosive, violent. It was forceful, but it drained her fast. What if there was another way? Her mom had been through so much, running and hiding her child. Maybe she hadn’t been able to move past her own anger. Sienna took a deep breath. It might have been the only way her mom knew how to show her, but she would find another.

She stared at a shard of terracotta pot. The surface was matte, but brightly colored. It was soft, in a way—softer than the rock she’d thrown across the field. It needed a gentler touch. She remembered what Payton had shown her, out in the field. Her force field—bubbles—weren’t solid, but made up of thousands of golden strands of light. The light was where all their power came from, in the end. They were so different, but in the end they were the same. If Payton could grab a single strand of light and manipulate it, move it around, then she could, too. She closed her eyes and reached out for the energy, pulling up just a fleck. It was as small as a grain of sand, but she could hold it. The rest filtered away through her fingers, but she held fast to that one glowing spark.

Sienna sat, holding the single spark of power, watching it wiggle and twist in her hands. It grew in her palm, warming her, until it felt solid. She pulled at it, tugged until it stretched and then grew, falling down over her fingers like a single strand of spider web. It flowed from her fingertips, wrapping around the shard. It was just one strand, one anchor point, but it was strong enough. She pulled on the strand, reeling the piece back toward her, then raised her hands in her mind.

Sienna opened her eyes. A faint shimmer glittered the air around her, and in the middle of it hung a burnt orange shard—dangling in the air. She gasped, and the piece jerked, plunging toward the ground. Sienna jerked, pulling back up on the strand in her mind. The shard stopped its descent. It hovered there, turning and twisting right in front of her eyes, as easily as it did in her mind.

Oh, my God.

She was doing it!

At her excitement, the pot shard tinkled to the ground, shedding small sparks as it fell. As it hit the ground, Sienna felt the sparks meld together and flow back into her. As she had the night before, she’d lost concentration and lost the connection. But this time, she’d felt the power leave and then flow back to her. She knew where it was, and how to find it again. It didn’t need to burst out of her anymore; full of anger and uncontrollable. She could hold it, shape it.

But there was so much to learn. Could Isobel do this, too? They were clones, right? Didn’t that mean an exact copy? But Isobel was so much more powerful than she was. If she could do what Sienna could, she doubted Isobel would have left a single one of them standing. And yet here they were. What was she missing?

The screen door behind her banged open and Sienna jolted from her thoughts. “Crap!”

“Sorry,” Payton said. Her eyes were puffy, either from crying or lack of sleep—probably both. She looked down at the boards of the porch, nudging one of the shards of broken pot with her toe. “Were you practicing?”

Sienna nodded. She sat up, wrapping her arms around her knees. “I mean, it’s not perfect. But it’s something.”

“Huh. What worked?”

“You actually, well, your idea. I let go of the anger.” She gestured at the bits of broken pot strewn about the porch. “Well, not at first. First, I tried anger and broke Jace’s little pot.”

Payton laughed and sat down next to Sienna. “Thing was ugly anyway.”

“See! That’s what I thought, too.” Then she remembered who she was talking to. Sienna smiled. This time, Payton hearing her thoughts didn’t feel like an intrusion. Instead it was almost fun, a joke between friends.

“I can see it, you know,” Payton said. “Each time, as you unlock a new part of your mind, I can read it. It does all come down to emotion for you, but not just feeling the emotion; controlling it. Let the sensation wash over you, but tell it what to do, not the other way around.”

Sienna cocked her head to the side. “So I just feel it in my mind?”

“Yeah, almost like your hands are touching it. Think about what it’d be like moving your hands over it. You’ve got this.” Payton nudged her with her shoulder. “I think you’re almost there.”

“Alright,” Sienna said. “Just sit back a bit. I don’t want to stab you with a piece of Jace’s ugly pot.”

Payton trotted down the stairs and stood on the gravel drive in front of the porch, not bothering to hide her laughter. It ran through Sienna, warming her in the morning light. Payton was humoring her, but she wasn’t the slightest bit worried about flying pottery pieces. She trusted Sienna. That felt good. Payton—everyone here—had been a great mentor. She could do this.

Sienna closed her eyes. Would two grains of power do it this time, or would it take more? She reached down, dipping her hand back into the light, this time grasping several tiny grains of light. She carefully picked one up, twirling it in her mind.

Terracotta had such a distinctive texture, it didn’t take much for her to picture the pot in her mind, or to extend the strands out again, this time multiple light paths sneaking out, picking up every remaining piece.

“There’s my girl.”

At Payton’s praise, Sienna opened her eyes. Chunks of the pot, large and small, floated in front of her eyes. This time, she wasn’t letting them go. She didn’t have to. They held steady in her mind. She moved them in her imagination, and the pieces followed, slowly at first, but then faster, until the entire mess was spinning four feet off the ground. “Hey, Payton! Check this out.” Sienna turned to where Payton had moved to, and bolted toward her, ignoring the crash of broken pieces crashing back against the wooden boards.

Payton lay on the ground, convulsing in the middle of the driveway.

A face appeared, so familiar that it sent a shudder down Sienna’s spine. Her eyes—no, Isobel’s eyes—were wide with madness, while she loomed over her, watching her. The burn passed through every corner of her mind, like a watery grave that would never come.

Cole!

He couldn’t think, he couldn’t breathe. If it didn’t stop . . . dear God. It couldn’t go on any longer, but then it did. He drowned for hours, coming up for air, only to drown again. There was no relief, no questions. Isobel was torturing him for the sheer enjoyment of it.

Sienna ran faster.

The concrete pressed into the back of his head when they wrenched him back up.

“How’s that feel now?” Isobel’s jacket sleeve brushed against his face as she caressed his cheek. The fabric felt like a razor, scraping down his skin.

He couldn’t answer.

“More.”

“Payton!” Sienna fell to her knees in front of her friend. Payton’s eyes had rolled back in her head, the whites of her eyes screaming from her skull. Isobel had Cole already. She’d found him and she was torturing him. Sienna had no doubt Cole would protect Payton from all of this, if there was any way he could. Did he even know he was broadcasting, or was he already too far gone to feel anything but pain?

She was going to kill the bitch.

She grabbed Payton by her shoulder, shaking her lightly. “Wake up!”

Nothing.

Sienna picked up Payton’s head, cradling it in her lap, and screamed.

Strong arms wrapped around her. “Hey . . . hey, Sienna, I’m here. What’s going on?” Jace was holding her, wrapping his body around hers from behind, shielding her.

Why the fuck couldn’t she shield Payton? What was she seeing?

“It’s her! It’s Isobel. Jace, they’re torturing him.”

“Get Payton inside, now!” Jace barked the order at Aaron and Reece, who had come bolting out the front door moments before with Keila, Emily, and Lainey soon after Jace had appeared. Aaron picked her up gently, struggling to keep her still as she convulsed in his arms.

“Is she here?” Reece turned to Sienna.

“No,” Sienna said, shaking her head. “Cole’s calling out to Payton. I saw it when it first hit. It was like Payton couldn’t hold it back.”

Keila spoke first. “She can’t.”

Aaron laid Payton out on the couch, a low moan leaving Payton’s throat with every movement. Lainey sat next to her best friend, stroking her hair and making quiet shhing sounds. Sienna forced herself to get it together. If anyone could pull Payton out, it was Lainey.

Or you. Find a bubble.

Sienna’s legs wobbled beneath her, but she forced herself to remain upright. If it weren’t for Payton, she wouldn’t have a single clue what she was doing. Already, she’d shown Sienna how to find her power, how to draw it out, and how to control it. She owed her, and she was going to stop this if it was the last thing she did.

Sienna closed her eyes and dove toward her light, scooping up a handful and refusing to allow a single drop of it to fall. Her mother had worked desperately to stop the experiments, stop Isobel and her plans, but she’d been blinded by her own anger. It wasn’t anger that was going to save Payton. Payton had saved Sienna’s life, and now Sienna was going to save hers, and, she hoped, Cole’s right along with it.

She let everything go, all the hurt, all the pain, and all the fear. Instead, Sienna focused on what she’d found. Friendship, acceptance, and love. With Jace, it was definitely love. The light built, wrapping around Payton first, and then everyone in the room. There had been too many secrets, too much locked away. If they were going to win this war, it was going to be together. She felt every one of them, a spark of light, joined but unique. Unique and damned powerful. Sienna smiled. That was it. That was the key.

Payton’s eyes fluttered open and she struggled upward. “I know where they are.”