“Of course not.”

“Then, what?” I ask. “What can she possibly do that wouldn’t make us more vulnerable?”

“Her firewall idea,” Marcella says. “If she can really do that, really lock people out, then they can never reprogram us without our consent.”

“It’s not worth the risk,” I say, although it’s not a terrible idea in theory.

Marcella groans, frustrated. “I disagree,” she says. “It could have been any of us who answered that call. And I’m going to be really honest—you need to get checked over. Who knows what that woman did to you when she was in there. Look at what happened to Imogene.”

I wrap my arms around myself, feeling exposed.

I don’t think I’ve been changed, but she tried. She tried hard enough to make my head hurt for hours after.

“She didn’t get in,” I assure her.

“Maybe not this time. But if it really was an EMP, if this woman and whoever she’s working with are actually nearby … can we take that chance?”

I put my hand over my forehead, rubbing it gently.

“You don’t have to just be scared,” Marcella says. “And you don’t have to just be angry. You can be careful, and loving, and pissed off … all at the same time.”

“Not that easy.”

“Is that why you lied to him?” she asks. I give her a pointed look to let her know the topic is off-limits, but she leans toward me, looking earnest. “You could have just told Jackson he was in danger,” Marcella says. “But you chose to lie. To end it completely.”

“I had no choice,” I say.

“You have choices now—we’re not at the academy anymore,” she says. “You can still call him—I’m not sure why you haven’t, but I’m guessing guilt. Is that what you’re feeling?”

“I feel a lot of things,” I say. “I feel the fear of the Guardian coming into my room at night, the pain of Anton sticking a needle behind my eye. I can feel the stickiness of the blood on my hands the night we left the school. All I do is feel, Marcella. All I do is hurt.” I shrug miserably. “And all I want in the world right now is for it to stop.”

Marcella’s lips pout slightly. “Well, you can’t stop feeling.”

The constant ache in my chest proves her right. She exhales and stands up.

“I’ll let you get some rest,” she says kindly. “But I want you to think about it—think about protecting yourself.”

I thank her for checking on me before she walks out. When she’s gone, I go over to the door and push in the lock. I stand there for a moment, my palm against the cool wood door.

I keep the light on and climb under the sheets of my bed. I stare up at the ceiling.

We left Innovations Academy in the dead of night, covered in blood and gore. Jackson drove, and when he asked me where we were going, I told him we were going to take down the corporation. He always knew the end goal. I’m not wrong for leaving him. I saved him.

I close my eyes, knowing I’m being defensive. Jackson wouldn’t have stopped us. And he wouldn’t have wanted me to save him. He’d have been here now, helping us find the investor’s son, if I would have let him. And part of me understands that letting him go was letting go of my vulnerability. My own humanity.

And yet, the throbbing in my heart bangs on. I lie here now, in my temporary apartment, staring at the ceiling. I’m lonely, suffering in a bed of my own making. I’ve closed myself off to feel safe. But it’s come at the cost of comfort.

I’m angry with myself. And that’s just one more emotion I can’t control.

8

Brynn has breakfast on the table when I come out of the shower in the morning, dressed for school. I smile gratefully and round the table. After a bit of sleep, my headache is gone and the absence of pain is euphoria in itself.

“You know you don’t have to cook for us,” I tell Brynn, taking a seat.

“Are you kidding?” Brynn asks. “This is what I enjoy. Being able to make life nice for us. Besides, I’m the best cook here. Marcella almost put ketchup in the scrambled eggs before I slapped it out of her hand.”

Marcella grins at her from the other end of the table, sipping her juice.

The other girls walk out. Annalise is still in her pajamas as she yawns and looks over the plates of food.

“What? No bacon?” She winks at Brynn and sits in front of her eggs and toast.

Sydney pauses at the table and models her uniform for us.

“Is this long enough?” she asks. Last night she’d let out her hem to deal with the skirt-length issue.

“I think it looked great before and it looks great now,” I tell her, earning a smile.

Sydney grabs some toast and sits down.

“I wish we didn’t have to go to school,” she says. “But I did hear in class yesterday that there’s a rugby game immediately after. We should go to it.”

“That sounds fun,” Marcella says dryly.

“I don’t know, watching boys beat each other with sticks holds some appeal,” Sydney says.

“Don’t think rugby has sticks,” Marcella points out.

“Too bad.” Sydney grins and continues to her point. “From everything we gathered at school yesterday, the boys on the team have all the power, although I guess it extends to their friends as well. Still … it seems more likely that one of the actual players would be the investor’s son. If we show up at a game, they might take notice.”

“Like that Jonah kid,” I offer.

Brynn runs the water at the sink to rinse out the pan. “Why do you suspect him?” she asks. “Did he say something?”

“It’s not just him,” I tell her. “But he did stand out to me. In a way, he reminds me of the men at the academy. He has a certain … smugness, I guess it’s called.”

“I call that ‘punch potential,’ ” Annalise says, scraping up a forkful of eggs. Sydney snorts a laugh.

“What are you going to do when you find the investor’s son?” Brynn asks, coming to stand behind Marcella. She leans down, draping both her arms over Marcella’s shoulders. “What if he has a girlfriend?”

“Ew, we’re not going to seduce him,” Sydney explains. “Whoever this kid is, we’re going to befriend him and get an invite to his house. Then we’ll go through all his stuff.”

Marcella shifts uncomfortably. “Yeah, about that,” she says. “I’ve been reading posts about your prep school on social media. They don’t have a great reputation. Not to add to the frustration, but I found several anonymous stories about boys from your school being aggressive with girls. So you need to be careful interacting with them. They’re used to pushing girls around and taking what they want.”

Annalise sets down her glass of juice with a loud clank. My stomach turns, although I shouldn’t be surprised. I’d seen enough hints to suspect as much.

“Why does this keep happening?” Brynn murmurs, straightening.

Sydney stands up from the table, dusting off her hands. “Because the academy was just a symptom of the problems in their society. But I promise,” she adds angrily, “no one will ever take anything from us again.” She pushes in her chair, scraping it along the floor.