“I have to get out of here,” I mutter, pacing back and forth in the small cell. The 54th might have holding cells, but they’re not much bigger than a broom closet inside the walls. I can’t help but wonder how many innocent Paras were forced into such confined spaces. And I may have arrested some of them.

For the first hour or so I was in here, I tried to keep my cool. I sat on the poured concrete bench, closing my eyes and trying to meditate or calm myself. I know that’s one of the main ways that cops break suspects. We just get them too keyed up to remain in control.

But that’s not what they’re doing here. Nobody’s going to take me into a room for questioning. No one will dare. They’re all afraid of me. I’m sure by now the word has gotten around, and the captain for damn sure has warned anyone working security in the holding cells to stay away. Carter popped that guy’s head like a water balloon, and unless you want to be buried in a plastic shopping bag, you’ll keep your distance unless you must.

I sigh, rubbing my throat, thirsty. Regardless of what happens now, whether they charge me with Reigns’s death or not . . . my life will never be the same.

“If only I’d listened to them,” I mutter, sitting down and rubbing at my temples. “They were right. I need to learn control.”

I stare at the white walls, wishing I could blow a hole through it and escape. However, no matter how hard I try, it seems my powers are either on the fritz or just don’t quite go in that direction. Because no matter how much I scream, thrust my hands out, stare at the walls, or think of holes appearing in the barriers in front of me . . . that wall’s still just as thick, just as much concrete and steel as it was when they chucked me in here.

Why can’t I have powers that are useful? Or at least ones I can use when I need them? What good are they if I can’t call on them in dire need?

Maybe you can if you learn to control them.

I shiver as I think about what I did to Cody. Okay, I must have some sort of matter manipulation powers . . . but what I did is awful. “I’m a monster.”

The kid may have been a vampire thrall but he didn’t deserve to die. He needed to have a good ass-kicking, maybe, but that’s it.

I hear muffled boots in the hallway, and my head jerks up as the lock in the door whines and the magnetic seals release with a loud ka-chunk. Two guards are in the doorway, both armed. “Captain says someone to see you.”

Relief floods me, and it’s hard to not tear up as they handcuff me and lead me out of the cell. “Don’t even think of trying anything,” one of the guards says as the elevator opens. “You know why.”

They keep their guns on me the whole time, obviously scared. If they only knew I have no idea how to use my power even if I wanted to.

They escort me down the hall to one of the high-security interview rooms. It looks like Hannibal Lecter’s room from the movies, with a thick slab of bulletproof glass separating the room in half, and on my side is a simple wooden folding chair. I sit, and a minute later, the door opens.

It’s Joe, looking better than I do I’m sure since he’s changed clothes. He’s at least sink-washed his hair too. “How’re you doing, Eve?”

“Joe, you gotta get me out of here,” I reply, my hands shaking. “I’m going Skippy in there.”

Joe sighs and nods. Opening the bag with him, he takes out a T-shirt and slides it through the narrow slot in the wall that’s normally used for papers. “This might help. I know it’s tough, and I’m working on it, but the captain is pissed. And between you and me, I think he's terrified.”

I take the shirt, seeing it’s one of my spares we all keep in our desks. “Thanks.”

“I’m doing all I can, Eve. In the meantime, change shirts and sit tight.”

“Thanks for the shirt, Joe. Think you can get the guards to bring me my spare pants, too?”

He gets up, nodding. “I’ll try. In the meantime, someone's here to see you. It’s the most the captain was willing to do so far.”

“Joe!” I yell as he leaves. A moment later, the door opens and I’m shocked when Alyssa comes in the room, looking nervous. “Alyssa?”

“Eve!” she says, sitting down. “What happened?”

“It’s a long story. How much time are they giving you?” I ask, tilting my head when Alyssa shakes her head. “What?”

Her eyes fill with a kind of awed horror. “Eve, it’s all over the net. You’re trending.”

“What is?” I ask, a chill running down my spine.

Alyssa rubs her hands together, looking at me worriedly. “You know, the video.”

Oh, God. My life is officially over. The Paras hate me for being on the squad, and now everyone else is going to hate me too. Maybe I deserve it.

In the back of my mind, part of me knows that the biggest victim in all of this is probably Cody Reigns . . . but when I think about his evil thoughts and the plan he knew about, my level of sympathy lowers a smidge.

“I . . . I didn’t mean to!” I protest hollowly.

Alyssa sits forward, her face inches from the glass. “Why didn’t you tell me you had powers all this time? You know me. I wouldn’t have thought any less of you.”

“I didn’t know. Until two nights ago, I never knew I had powers. Hell, I don’t even know how to use them!”

Alyssa’s mouth drops open in the stunned silence that follows. “Tell me. Tell me everything.”

I sigh, taking a moment to calm and gather myself. I need to figure out a strategy for getting out of this, and talking to Alyssa helps. I open my mouth to tell her everything, but then I remember where I am. Everything said in these rooms is recorded, and the captain’s idea becomes clear. They brought her here so I could spill everything. They just used my sister to pump me for information, even if she doesn’t know it.

“Eve?” Alyssa says after a moment.

I nod, lowering my voice, even though it’s useless. The mics they use in here could record a fart from a housefly. “I need you to listen to me carefully. Don't tell them anything. They’re just—”

“But—”

I narrow my eyes. “Alyssa, listen! They’re gonna be watching you. They’re watching us both now. And . . . I know that you’ve been spending time with a . . . unique boyfriend.”

Alyssa gasps, looking up. “Zack? You knew?”

“Of course I knew. I was going to let you come out with it in your own time, but that’s what has you so worked up recently. You see, I know him, and I know his record. Other than some rinky-dink stupid shit that a lot of boys get into, he’s clean. But I’m not sure if you should be around him right now. For his safety, but more importantly, yours.”

I try to disguise it without revealing her boyfriend is a shifter. That might bring questions, questions that maybe our family is a bit too Para-friendly and that maybe she did know something about me.

Alyssa swallows, her hands clenching and twisting around each other as she takes in what I have to say. “But what’s going to happen to you? How can you get out of this?”

I sit back down, sighing. “I don’t know. The Para Laws—”

There’s a knock on the door, and the two guards re-enter, one on each side of the glass. “That’s it. Time’s up.”

“Wait, let me talk to my sister!” Alyssa says, ever the believer in the ideal. She thinks she has rights . . . and I’ve been too chicken to tell her the truth. With the Para Laws, her civil rights got checked at the front door. The guard on her side promptly demonstrates this by grabbing her by the arms, twisting her wrist behind her back and forcibly escorting her from the room. She struggles, twisting and fighting as best she can, yelling, “Let me go! No! Eve!”

I don’t know if stress helps my powers or anything, but I furrow my brow, trying to think at Alyssa. I’ll be okay, ‘Lyssa. Don’t worry. Just go home and keep your head down. Don’t tell anyone anything when they ask you questions.

I’m not sure if my thought reaches her mind, but her face calms as she makes eye contact with me and stops struggling. Once she’s gone, I turn on my guard in total fury. “You piece of shit. She had nothing to do with this! She doesn’t deserve this.”

I can see it in the guard’s eyes. As soon as the word got out, I’m just another Para. “Blame yourself,” he says nonchalantly. “You brought it on her.”

I fume, anger coursing through my veins, and it’s with a lot of restraint that I try not to think about giving my guard a migraine. I don’t know what my powers do, or even how to control them yet, and what could be a headache could end up being a stroke . . . or his head could explode like Cody’s.

The second guard comes back, holding ankle shackles and a waist belt. “Transport time.”

“Where are we going?” I ask, but I don’t struggle as they shackle me and march me down the hall to another room. I don’t want to risk getting Tazed again and losing control of my abilities. I’ve seen the door before, and a quaver goes through me as they unlock it. It’s room 101 . . . the one interrogation room that is never used. The room no one talks about.

The guards shove me inside, slamming the door shut as I tumble to the padded floor. I roll, sitting up. Room 101 . . . it’s all white on the inside, and on the surface, it looks like any other interrogation room.

But I see a few other differences. There’s a large table. But more importantly, as I scan the room . . . there’s no recording equipment.

Whatever happens in here, there’s no record of it.

And that scares me more than anything else.