The throbbing of soft piano music vibrates against my eardrums as I blink my eyes open. Then my jaw virtually slaps the hardwood floor.

I’m no longer lying in bed at Leviter Station, but standing in an unfamiliar room lined with shelves containing bottles of moonshine.

Where the heck am I?

I move forward to get a better look around. Copper chandeliers hang from wooden beams, a swinging door frames the far back wall, and chains secured to gadgets and levers run perpendicular from the ceiling to the floor. To my right, a polished bronze counter borders the edge of the room, along with a row of barstools where a few men sit. Most of them are wearing leather vests, button shirts, trousers, and lace-up boots, but the one at the end has topped off the look with a long leather trench coat.

“To freedom.” A man with coppery red hair and ghostly white skin raises his glass.

“To freedom,” all the other men, except the one sitting at the end, murmur then lift their glasses in sync. Then they tip their heads back, guzzle down the shots, and set the empty glasses down.

“So, now what do we do?” a younger man with chin-length black hair asks, resting his arms on the counter.

“We wait until the time is right, and then we make our next move.” The man with reddish hair stands up, leans over the counter, and snatches up a full bottle of whiskey from off the shelf.

A pudgy man slants forward, adjusting his glasses higher on the crooked brim of his nose. “You think just waiting will work?”

The coppery-haired man nods, unscrewing the cap off the bottle. “If we want to eliminate the Grim, we need to be patient. If we strike too soon, we’ll all end up dead.”

The man sitting at the end of the bar who didn’t participate in the toasts laughs hollowly. “You think you can eliminate the Grim? Just how stupid are you?”

His back is turned to me so I can’t see his face, but the striking familiarity of his voice has me inching forward to get a better look at him.

The redhead narrows his eyes at him. “Why do you always have to be so negative?”

“I’m not being negative.” He collects the shot glass, brings the brim to his lips, and downs the whiskey in one gulp. Then, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he begins to turn around in the barstool. “I’m being realistic. Sure, you might have scared off a handful of Grim, but killing them is an entirely different …” He trails off when he spots me.

My lips part in shock. “Blaise,” I whisper then run across the bar toward him. I don’t care why he’s here, how, or how I found him. I just care that he’s alive. “You’re okay.”

His brows scrunch together. “Who are you? And how do you know my name?”

The rest of the men wheel around and spring to their feet, their hands wandering for their holsters strapped around their waists and shoulders.

I skid to a startled stop as four guns are aimed at me and look helplessly at Blaise. “It’s me. Allura … The girl you rescued from the …” I bite down on my tongue as the red-headed man cocks his gun and steps forward.

“We haven’t rescued any girls for a very long time. Wish we could, but the Grim have upped their security lately.” The hardwood floor creaks as he cautiously approaches me with the barrel pointed at me. “We know you’re lying.” He stops as the end of his gun touches the center of my chest. Then he tips his head to the side. “The question is: Why?”

“I …” I throw a desperate glance in Blaise’s direction, hoping he’ll come out of whatever forgetful trance he’s obviously entered.

He only slants back, resting his elbows on the countertop, staring me down like a hawk.

The man in front of me slides the gun up to my chin, and the cold metal bites into my skin as he turns my head back toward him. “Answer the damn question. Why are you lying?”

My breath leaves my lips in a gasp. “I’m not lying … I don’t …” I want to look back at Blaise, but I fear the guy in front of me might shoot me if I do. “I’m not lying … I’m just confused. And lost.” My eyes start to water, but I fight back the tears, not wanting to crumble in front of strangers.

“Fredrick, would you back the hell off?” The younger guy with black hair steps forward, lowering his gun. His alarmingly silver eyes are tinted with kindness. “You’re scaring the poor girl half to death.”

“How do we know that for sure?” Fredrick doesn’t take his eyes off me. “She could be lying. Remember Eva? Besides, she knows Blaise’s name. How is that?” He shakes his head, putting more pressure on my chin with the barrel of his gun. “Look at her eyes. She has secrets in there.”

The younger man who spoke up on my behalf sticks his gun back into the holster. “Everyone has secrets, Fredrick. You should know that better than anyone.”

Fredrick shoots him a lethal look from over his shoulder. “Zander, no one asked for your opinion.”

“Well, I always offer it,” Zander quips with a devious grin.

As they continue to argue, I clasp on to the opportunity to send Blaise a pleading glance. The instant my eyes fall on his, I realize a few minor details I somehow missed during my celebration of first seeing him. One, his head isn’t shaved on one side. Two, he has no facial piercings. And three, that intense look that’s usually in his eyes when he looks at me isn’t present.

“Blaise!” Fredrick shouts, causing my muscles to spasm. “Get over here for a second.”

With his eyes glued on mine, Blaise rises to his feet and ambles across the bar. When he nears us, he stuffs his hand inside the front of his open trench coat and withdraws a gun. He doesn’t aim it at me, just simply holds it. But the fact that he would consider using it on me wounds my soul.

This isn’t my Blaise, yet he looks exactly like him.

“What do you want?” he asks Fredrick as he stops just short of us.

“I want to know if you recognize this girl,” Fredrick answers, using the end of the barrel to shove my face in Blaise’s direction.

Blaise scrutinizes me with a neutral expression. “I don’t think so.”

“Are you sure?” Zander chimes in. “Perhaps she’s from your old home.”

Blaise notes my bare feet, grey shorts, and black tank top, then shakes his head. “No, I definitely don’t think so.”

“Well, then I guess it’s settled.” A smile spans across Fredrick’s face. “Take her to the dungeons.”

Dungeons?

It takes me a moment to connect the word with an image, and when I do, any ounce of calmness inside me evaporates.

“No, please don’t.” I shake my head, backing away from him. “I can’t—”

Fredrick snatches ahold of my arm and wrenches me back toward him. “No one asked for your opinion.” With a rough jerk, he flings me toward a set of swinging doors. “Now get your ass back there before I change my mind and decide to just shoot you.”

My bare feet scuff against the floor as I stumble toward Blaise. He dodges out of the way before I bump into him and lets me fall to the floor where I land on my hands and knees, the wood scraping my bare skin. Tears fill my eyes as humiliation douses over me.

This isn’t the first time I’ve been treated like this. These men … They’re no better than the Grim.

Fredrick nudges me in the side with the toe of his boot. “Get up.”

Sucking in an exhale, I push to my feet and sweep my hair out of my face. Then I limp toward the doors.

“I’ll take her there,” Zander offers.

Fredrick pokes me in the back with the gun, and I stiffen. “I can handle her.”

“Yeah, but …” Zander pauses. “Don’t you have that meeting to get to?”

Fredrick wavers, coming to a stop. “I do, but—”

“But nothing,” Zander cuts him off eagerly. “You can’t miss it. You’re in charge of it, for crying out loud.”

Silence stretches between the men, making my gasping breaths embarrassingly evident.

Then the heels of his boots click against the floor as Fredrick walks around in front of me. “If you try to escape, I’ll shoot you dead. Understand?”

Gulping, I nod.

His mouth twitches as he momentarily stares at me, then he spins on his heels and strides for a door at the front of the bar. “Zander, take her to the dungeon. Everyone else, come with me.”

Two of the men follow, but Blaise remains at my side. When Fredrick notices, he motions at Blaise with annoyance.

“Hurry up,” he demands. “We’re going to be late.”

Blaise hesitates, looking from me to Zander then back to me. “Actually, I think I’m going to stay.”

“This isn’t a job that requires two people,” Fredrick snaps impatiently. “Now, one of you, come on.”

“It might take two people,” Zander says, checking the bullets in his gun. “You never know with strangers, Fredrick. Remember how tricky and strong Eva was?”

Fredrick slams his palm against the doorframe. “Eva wasn’t human. That wasn’t my fault.”

Zander studies me with his silver eyes that match stars in the midnight sky. “Maybe she’s not, either. You can’t always tell for sure.”

Huffing a frustrated breath, Fredrick shoves the door open. “Fine. Do whatever the hell you want. But don’t come whining to me to give you a recap of the meeting.” With that, he storms out the doors and into a dirt street blanketed by nightfall.

“Good God, this whole leadership thing is going to his head,” Zander mumbles once Fredrick is long gone.

“Tell me about it,” Blaise says, slipping his gun into his holster. “The other day, he tried to make me clean his house. Said it was part of my job, like I’m a goddamn maid or something.”

Zander chuckles. “I bet you had a few choice words to say about that.”

An arrogant smile expands across Blaise’s face. “Don’t I always?”

Watching Blaise smile so casually is very strange. If he didn’t go by the name Blaise, I’d speculate that perhaps he was a twin or a doppelganger. That is, if the latter exists. I’m not sure since I don’t understand how I know the word.

“That you do.” Zander chews on his bottom lip as he retrieves a silver pocket watch from his vest pocket and checks the time. “So, what’re we going to do with this one?”

Blaise’s gaze flits to me, and he measures me up. “I’m not sure yet.”

Zander stuffs the pocket watch back in his pocket. “You think we should let her go?”

“Normally, I’d say yes, but …” Blaise examines me closely, thrumming his fingers on the sides of his legs. “But she knows my name.”

Zander faces me with his arms crossed. “That is a little strange.”

The two of them stare at me, as if trying to unravel the secrets hidden in my brain.

“What did you say your name was?” Zander finally asks.

I swallow, mostly to rehydrate my throat that’s gone painfully dry. “Allura.”

Zander gives Blaise a curious look. “Are you sure the name doesn’t ring a bell?”

Blaise briefly contemplates the answer before shaking his head. “I don’t think so. I don’t know … I’ve met a lot of people during my travels. Maybe we crossed paths during one?” He leaves the question hanging out there for me to answer.

I want to tell him the truth, but I fear the real answer will result in me being locked up.

“Yes, that’s where we met,” I lie, starting to sweat.

He taps his foot restlessly against the floor. “And where exactly did we cross paths?”

I have no clue how to answer that question since I’m unsure where we are. Still, I should give him something.

“Um …” I nervously rub my hand across my damp forehead.

Zander and Blaise suddenly go bugged-eyed.

“Well, this is a strange surprise,” Zander says, reaching for my arm. “She’s a Nameless.”

I trip back as his fingers graze my wrist. While I’m fine with Ryder, Reece, and Blaise touching me, I don’t particularly care for anyone else to.

“Sorry.” Zander raises his hands in front of him in a surrender pose. “I wasn’t going to hurt you. I just wanted to look at your number.”

Blaise once told me to never let anyone know I’m a Nameless, that people would take advantage of me. I may not know where the hell I am or who this Blaise is in front of me, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to risk going against the rules of surviving.

I cover my hand over the number on my wrist. “It’s not a Nameless number. Just a tattoo.”

Blaise steps forward and pries my fingers off my wrist to examine the ink branded into my skin. “No, this is a Nameless number.” His gaze rises to me and wonderment overflows from his eyes. “You escaped from the channels?”

I fuse my lips together and attempt to wiggle my arm free from his grasp, but he holds on securely.

“We’re not going to hurt you,” Blaise tells me. “I just want—need—to know if you escaped the channels.”

I wrap my free arm around myself and whisper, “Why?”

Blaise exchanges a glance with Zander that reminds me a lot of all the mysterious looks that go on between Blaise, Ryder, and Reece.

“Go ahead and tell her,” Zander encourages, folding his arms. The sleeve of his shirt rides up, revealing a wrist made of metal, rounded gadgets, and a few springs. “She’ll probably be more likely to tell you.”

“Only if she’s a good person.” Blaise eyes me warily. “Are you?”

The question, while simple enough, throws me for a sharp and abrupt turn. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” he questions with his brows elevated. “Have you ever hurt anyone?”

I bob my head up and down, shame building in my chest. “I have.”

“And what were the circumstances?” Blaise steps toward me until the tips of his boots kiss my toes. “Did you hurt someone for fun or to protect?”

“To protect.” I’m not so certain I’m being entirely truthful.

Blaise dips his head toward mine and the scent of leather, dirt, and cologne engulfs my nostrils. “Tell me, Allura, if you’re a Nameless, then how is it possible that you can speak so well?”

I shrug. “I don’t know.”

His brow meticulously arches. “You don’t know?”

I shake my head, discreetly breathing his scent in. He may not act like the Blaise I know, but he smells like him. “I can’t really remember my past very well.”

Compassion flicks across his face. “Neither can I. At least, not all of it.” He moves backs, taking his lovely scent with him and erasing any emotion from his face. “My sister has been trapped in the channels for a while … We’ve raided a few, but there’s still so many we haven’t located. So, if you’re really from one, I need you to tell me so that I can attempt to track it down and look for her.”

Blaise’s sister is in the channels? I thought Blaise’s sister was dead?

A troubled sensation washes over me as a few pieces of the puzzle connect.

This place isn’t some weird place Blaise is trapped in. This is from his past. How did I get here? And from the present, because that’s the only way the number on my wrist could exist.

Am I accessing Blaise’s memories somehow?

“Are you or aren’t you going to help us?” Blaise presses with urgency.

I don’t know what to do, what the correct answer is, what exactly happened in this memory. So, I’m left making my own choice.

“I’m from the channels,” I admit. “But I’m not quite sure where the location is.”

Hope flashes in his eyes. “If I showed you a map, would you recognize it?”

“I’m not very good with maps,” I say, fidgeting with the hem of my shirt. “But I can try if you want me to.”

Blaise nods then turns to Zander. “Think you can sneak us into the library?”

Zander rolls his eyes. “Do you even have to ask?”

Blaise practically bounces with excitement. “Then let’s go before the meeting gets out and Fredrick comes looking for us.”

Zander walks to the back of the room, pushes open the swinging doors, and lifts his chin, signaling for me to follow.

I free an anxious breath before trailing behind him with Blaise at my heels. When I reach the door, Zander steps to the side and gestures for me to go in. I hesitantly cross the threshold and step into a slender hallway lined with rusted doors, all of which are shut and deadbolted from the outside.

I gulp, worried what could possibly be locked in there. Monsters? Something evil? Or is this place like the channels and locks up the innocent?

Feeble cries and pleas drift through the small, square windows of each door as I proceed down the hallway with Blaise and Zander by my sides. The dirt ground is chilled against my bare feet, and the arctic temperature sends me into a fit of shivers.

“They’re Fredrick’s prisoners,” Zander announces when he notices me glancing at the doors. “For the most part, Blaise and I try to free the people he captures, but there are some people who deserve to be locked up.”

“Like criminals?” Water drips from the ceiling and splatters across my forehead. I reach up to wipe them away, but Blaise beats me to the punch.

“You know, you do seem sort of familiar,” he states as he drags his thumb up the center of my forehead, wiping the water away.

“That’s because I wasn’t lying about us knowing each other.” I stare at him, mesmerized by how easily he touched me.

He seems to suddenly notice this, too, and hastily jerks back. “I’m sorry … I usually don’t do that kind of stuff.”

“Touch people’s foreheads?” I ask as water drips between my eyes.

Blaise faces forward with his jaw set tight. “Touch people in general.”

“Oh.” What I would give to tell him that eventually he’ll get better with that, at least enough to kiss me. That declaration would probably freak him out.

“You still haven’t told me where you met me,” he says without making eye contact.

“We crossed paths in the fault once,” I say since I know Blaise has been there before.

“Really?” He gives me a dubious look. “You’ve been in the fault?”

I tug at the bottom of my shirt, feeling self-conscious. “Why is that so hard to believe?”

“You just seem … I don’t know”—he runs his hand over the top of his head—“fragile.”

“I’m not as fragile as I look,” I admit softly.

He nods, as if understanding. “I fully believe it.”

Shock courses through me. “You do?”

He nods. “If you escaped the channels, you have to be strong.”

“Well, I had help.”

“From who?”

“Um …” I scratch the corner of my eye. “From these guys.”

He stops in front of a red door at the end of the hallway, his forehead furrowing. “Where were these guys from?”

I don’t know if I should tell him. According to what I was told by Ryder, Blaise has lived at Leviter Station since he was younger. So, if this is a memory, he’ll know about the station and who Ryder and Reece are.

“I don’t know,” I lie, stopping beside Blaise. “Some guys just showed up at my cell one day and helped me escape.”

“And then just left you?” Blaise asks as Zander unlocks the deadbolt of the red door.

The crying and screaming and pleas grow louder.

“Help me!”

“Don’t leave me!”

“Free me!”

“I don’t want to die!”

“Please, miss, I have a family!”

Memories of being locked up in my cell attack me at every angle. I want to throw my hands over my ears, block the voices out. No, what I want to do is help every single one of them. If only I knew why they were locked up.

What is this place?

“Um, sort of.” I hate the untrue words that keep leaving my tongue, but I don’t know what else to do. Explain to him what’s going on. Hope he doesn’t pull his gun out on me again. Or worse, lock me up behind one of these doors.

“Well, that’s awful.” The gadgets on Zander’s wrist begin to rotate as he grabs the door handle. Then his wrist kinks as he drags the door open, the gadgets rotating every step of the way.

I start to question if perhaps, like Blaise, Zander is a Forbidden, too; if the metal on his wrist is actually his wrist, and the gadgets and springs allow him to move.

“Never seen a Forbidden before, have you?” Zander remarks when he notes the direction of my gaze.

“No, I have once.” I chew on my thumbnail, looking between Blaise and Zander. “I’ve just never seen a wrist move that way before.”

Grinning, Zander elevates his arm, drags his sleeve down, and begins bending his wrist back and forth. The gadgets spin and the springs squeak with every robotic movement.

“It’s better than a real wrist.” He grins proudly then glances at Blaise. “Although, this one over here will probably disagree with me. He thinks the metal structure is more of a flaw than a gift.”

“That’s because it is.” Blaise steps toward the door, his expression hardening.

“That’s a matter of opinion.” Zander rolls his sleeve down, lowers his arm to his side, and turns toward me. “I’m going to let you in on a little secret about us Forbidden.”

“Okay.” I glance at Blaise, who’s wandering away from us, then back at Zander. “What is it?”

“It’s a lovely secret,” he teases, as if purposefully being vague.

I fight back a smile, unsure whether the reaction is appropriate. “Are you going to tell me?”

“I don’t know.” He thrums his finger against his bottom lip. “It might be better to just let you guess.”

“I’m not very good at guessing,” I admit. “It could take forever, and then Blaise will probably get upset.”

Zander smiles cleverly, pointing a finger at me. “You’re observant.”

No, I just know Blaise better than you think. “Yeah, I guess.”

“No guessing,” he jokingly scolds. “You are, and you should be proud of that.”

I feel like the biggest liar ever. “Are you going to tell me your secret?”

His smile illuminates his face. “All right, but only because you begged.”

“I did?”

“Well, technically you didn’t, but I’m going to pretend you did.”

A smile breaks through. I don’t even know where it stems from, other than Zander’s smile feels contagious. In a way, he kind of reminds me of Ryder.

Glancing from left to right, Zander leans in until his face is only inches from mine. “My secret is how to win the heart of a Forbidden.”

I part my lips to ask him why I need to know that, but he raises his hand, shushing me.

“Now, I know what you’re thinking. Why on earth would I ever want to win the heart of what some see as an abomination? But let me tell you, us Forbiddens aren’t as awful as some like to believe.”

“I don’t think you’re awful,” I tell him. “Not at all.”

“And that’s why I’m telling you this secret,” he says with a grin. “Because I have a feeling that one day you’re going to own the heart of a Forbidden.”

“Okay …” This conversation suddenly feels strangely familiar.

“Are you ready?” he asks.

I nod. “Yeah, I think so.”

He rubs his hands together. “Okay, so there are a couple of things you must do to really get a Forbidden to fall for you. Because, let’s face it, our steel hearts are quite cold.” He winks at me. “No pun intended.”

I smile, but confusion fogs my mind.

“So, the first thing is to let them rescue you. Perhaps once or twice, because we love playing the hero. Although, some of us might not admit that.” He casts a fleeting look over his shoulder at Blaise, who’s glaring at us with impatience, then returns his focus back to me. “And the second is to never be afraid of them. I know we might seem really scary, especially when we have our scary faces on, but deep down, we’re just as afraid as you.”

“I don’t think you’re scary,” I say, wiping off a water droplet rolling down my cheek.

Zander gives a subtle nod in Blaise’s direction. “What about that one over there?”

I bite back a smile, remembering the first time I met Blaise. For a split second, he frightened me, but then I realized he was as scared of me as I was of him, and then I just became fascinated. “No, not at all.”

He chuckles. “Well, you might be the first.”

“Oh, my God, will you get in here?” Blaise interrupts with a shake of his head. “I’d like to get this taken care of before Fredrick returns and our cover is blown.”

Cover is blown? Blaise is working undercover?

Zander holds up his hand at Blaise, his gaze fixed on me. “And third is to not call us Forbiddens.”

“But you call yourself Forbiddens?” I point out, feeling lost.

“Yes, but we’re all hypocrites,” he says amusedly. “We like to shame ourselves, but secretly, we wish for people to see us as much more than an abomination.”

I nod, sort of understanding where he’s coming from. “So, what should I call you?”

His eyes light up like firecrackers. “Greystelies.”