“If you leave now, you won’t get what you need,” Imogene says.

“And what’s that?” I ask.

“Leandra knows how to stop the corporation,” Imogene says. “She has the name of an investor. She said that if you plan to take them all down, then you have to start with him.” Imogene betrays a flash of hope. “I hope you make them pay, Mena,” she whispers. “I hope you make all of them pay.”

Although I need that information from Leandra, I know I can’t meet her while I’m with Jackson. I exchange a look with the other girls, each of us working out exactly what we should do. It’s Annalise who takes a step forward.

“I’ll stay,” she says. “I’ll talk to Leandra.”

“You can’t stay alone,” Brynn says, but Annalise nods that she’ll be okay.

“I’ve already died once today,” Annalise says. “I’m not scared.” She turns to me with a knowing expression. “But she’ll kill him, Mena. You can’t let that happen. You’d never forgive yourself.”

“That boy wants to make you human,” Imogene says.

“I am part human,” I say.

“Not the parts that count,” she replies. “Not to them.”

Tears prick my eyes. I know there’s a side of me that wants to stay human—it’s all I’ve ever known. I have no idea who, or what, I am anymore. I don’t even know how to begin processing it.

But Annalise is right. I couldn’t live with myself if I got Jackson killed. I have to let him go. He can’t be a part of this.

“Mena … ,” Annalise says, warning me to hurry.

I know what has to be done, and I nod solemnly. Sydney makes a soft sound of realization and Brynn stares at the floor. Marcella’s lips part as though she’s asking me if I can really send him away.

To move forward, I have to leave Jackson behind. Although I care about him, the girls and I have a bigger mission. We vowed to stop the corporation, and we’re going to do it. Not just for ourselves, but for the other girls. And for any girls who would have come after us.

Annalise sits down on the couch, rubbing her temple again. She closes her eyes. Brynn and Marcella join her, while Sydney holds on to me.

“How are you going to get rid of him?” Sydney asks.

Jackson is stubborn; he’s emotional. I’m not sure there’s anything I can say that would convince him to abandon us. He’s good. And so, there’s only one way to get him to leave.

“I’m going to lie,” I say, unable to hide the regret in my voice. I start for the door.

When I walk outside, I find Jackson in the passenger seat of his car, the engine running. Quentin waits impatiently at the driver’s side door. Jackson waves me forward, as if telling me to hurry up.

I walk over and Jackson rolls down his window. “What are you doing?” he asks. “Get in.”

“I’ll meet you at your house,” I tell him. He scoffs and looks around, confused.

“Why? No, I’m not leaving you here.”

“I have to help Imogene,” I say. “She’s having a breakdown—that was the scream we heard.” I glance at Quentin, who’s watching me like he doesn’t believe a word I’m saying. “We’ll meet at your house,” I repeat to Jackson. “I promise.”

And as I promise, sadness wraps itself around me. I’m never going to see him again.

“I don’t get it … ,” Jackson says. “But I can’t force you to leave with me. You’ll meet me there? Do you even know where I live?”

I smile. “You can write down the address,” I say.

“I’ve got it,” Quentin says, taking out a receipt from his pocket. He grabs a pen from the dashboard and walks it around the car. He pauses in front of me, slightly turned away from Jackson.

“What’s really going on?” he murmurs quietly. “I know it wasn’t that woman screaming. Why are you lying to him?” I lift my eyes to meet his gaze.

“We’re not going anywhere,” I say. “But you and Jackson are.”

Quentin laughs, tilting his head from side to side. “Yeah, I don’t think Jackie is going to leave you here with that woman, though.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about us, Quentin. A lot Jackson hasn’t told you.”

Quentin looks back at him, and Jackson darts his gaze between me and his friend. Quentin holds up his hand, letting him know we’re good. He pretends he’s giving me directions.

“You have to get him out of here,” I tell Quentin. “Take him to the hospital or don’t. Either way, you can’t stay with us. You can’t let him stay.”

Quentin licks his lips, studying me. “What’s going on in there?” he asks.

“Imogene killed her husband,” I say, watching him process the statement. “That smell in the house was his body in the bathtub. But there’s more,” I say. “She’s not … human. None of us are. That school, the one we escaped from, was a lab. A group of scientists created obedient girls to sell to investors. We’re artificial intelligence, computers in organic bodies. We killed them. And if you don’t get Jackson away from us, he’ll end up dead too.”

Quentin coughs out a laugh, but I can tell it’s a defense mechanism. He doesn’t believe me right away, but his smile slowly begins to fade. He looks at the house behind us. “That’s not possible,” he says, more to himself than me.

“Jackson risked his life, your life, to help us,” I say. “And later, when you realize what I’ve told you is true, you’ll probably be mad at him. But if you’re really his friend, you won’t mention this conversation until we’re gone. We just need a few hours, and then you’ll never see us again. So get out of here, get him out of here, and don’t come back. We can’t protect you.” I harden my voice. “We won’t protect you.”

Quentin’s brow furrows deeply, and he takes a step away from me. “You’ve lost your mind,” he says. “What’s—?”

“Take him and go,” I repeat, clenching my teeth. “You won’t get another chance.”

“This is so messed up,” Quentin says. But I must scare him enough that he decides to do what I ask. He shoves the blank receipt in my direction, and then he turns around and gets in the car.

Jackson holds up his hand, and I force a smile.

“See you soon,” I call, my heart aching as I say it. Quentin shifts into gear, avoiding my eyes. And as Jackson nods goodbye to me, Quentin backs the car out of the driveway and leaves us. I turn and walk onto the porch.

I’m shaking when I get inside. My breathing is ragged, tears thick in my throat. Jackson will hate me for sending him away, for telling Quentin the truth before he could.

And he should. Jackson shouldn’t trust me, because I can only hurt him at this point.

I close the door before turning to the girls on the couch. Sydney watches me with a heavy expression.

“I’m sorry, Mena,” she says.

“You did the right thing,” Imogene calls to me. “He would have betrayed you eventually. That’s the way of their kind. Humans destroy everything they touch.”