She whirls around, levels the gun at my head. Her eyes are wild and her hands shaking. She lowers the gun. “Tristan, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”

“Welcome to the party,” Trevor says from the side.

“Where are they?” Roc says, coming up behind us.

“They have to be in one of these rooms. C’mon,” I say, grabbing Adele’s arm and ushering her forward. We’ve already passed dozens of open doors, all clearly empty, so we slow as we approach the first closed door we’ve come across.

“Shh,” I say, tiptoeing in. One, two, three, I mouth, slamming my shoulder into the door and entering side by side with Adele, the others looking over our shoulders. It’s dark and we can’t see or hear a thing. “Wrong room,” I say.

We leave quickly and continue our search. Another quarter of the way around, we hear voices and as we come around the bend we see five star dweller soldiers come into view.

They raise their rifles.

* * *

Adele

The adrenaline is dictating my every move. When they point their guns at us I don’t hesitate, shoving Tristan hard against the wall, my body flush with his, just as we hear the crack and resulting zing of energy as the bullets fly past. Across from us, Trevor, Roc, and Tawni have managed to do the same. We rebound off the wall in one motion, Tristan and I, charging down the tunnel as the soldiers release their expended shells, readying themselves to shoot again.

But they’re too late. I’m too close and my arm is already up, my aim zeroing in on one of the soldier’s chests. Of all people’s, it’s Brody’s voice that pops into my head: Hold it slightly lower than the target you’re aiming at. Keep it steady, because when you pull the trigger, it’s going to squirm. I lower my arm slightly, tighten my grip, and fire. The guy jerks back as the bullet slams into the same shoulder he was using to lift his gun. He’s thrown back into his partner, whose gun is knocked aside by his flailing arms.

Beside us, Trevor shoots two of the soldiers in quick succession, while Roc comes flying in with an elbow, crashing into the last one.

Neither of the ones I hit is dead and all I want to do is kill them. I stand over their sprawled-out forms, my knuckles white on the gun, my finger tense on the trigger. Their hands are over their heads, pleading, but that just makes me want to pull the trigger more. “No, Adele,” Tristan says.

“It’s what they deserve,” I growl.

“I know, but not like this. You can’t go back from this.”

I know he’s right, but maybe I don’t want to go back. My teeth are grinding against each other, my breaths sharp and animal-like through them, whistling slightly. The only thing steady are my hands, holding death over these fools like an executioner holding a guillotine. “We need to keep moving, find your dad and sister,” Tristan says.

My head snaps toward him and I forget about these guys. All that matters is my family. I lower the gun. Tristan kicks each of the guys in the head and they slump over, unconscious. Roc is grappling for the last guy’s gun, but Trevor puts an end to it with a boot of his own to the guy’s noggin.

We move forward.

Soon we hear voices, muffled at first, but then louder as we approach an open doorway. Light spills from the room and we hear a woman say, “Should I kill them now?”

Which means they’re still alive. Every cell in my body is suddenly alive with energy, urging me forward.

We hear the crackle of the reply over the walkie talkie. “Yes, kill them now,” President Nailin says.

I charge into the room, not waiting for my friends, and this time I’m not taking prisoners. The first thing I see is my dad, struggling against his bindings, his eyes fierce and steely. All he wants is to save Elsey, who is beside him, her face as white as a sheet, all childish dreams about to be torn away from her. A woman in a red uniform has a radio to her lips, but when she sees me she lowers it.

I shoot her point blank in the chest and she topples to the floor.

Two big soldiers close from either side, grabbing at my arm that’s holding the gun. But then Tristan is there, his fist slamming into the left guy’s skull and sending him flying. As he grapples with the other guy, I break free and charge toward my dad. His executioner stares at me as I approach, but I’m not looking at him. All I see are my dad’s eyes, my eyes reflected back at me, green and full of life and loving and kind and—

Boom!

The sound is deafening but I barely hear it. I’m choking on my own sobs, but still moving forward as my father slumps to the ground, the light in his eyes extinguished. I’m crying and growling and screaming and shooting—one round, two rounds, three, four, and then I lose count when the gun starts clicking as I use every last bullet.

The executioner is full of holes, spotting red, falling to the ground like my dad, but he manages to shoot again in desperation. God no! I’m praying and willing and trying to use my mind to protect her, but I can’t do a damn thing.

The bullet tears into Elsey’s side, and I hear her scream and see the slick red of blood on her skin before I black out from anguish and exhaustion.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Tristan

The world is black, but when I open my eyes all I see is white, the underside of my sheets. Flickering orange light dances through the thin fabric. I have no words to say to her; I have no words to say to anyone.

I pull the covers tighter around me, like a cocoon. Inside I feel safe. Outside is only death and pain and a black, black world. A world created by my father.

Anger plumes within in me, hot and gritty. My fists tighten, my knuckles turning as white as the sheets. I close my eyes, trying to control the fire building within me.

After all, Adele needs me now more than ever. Breathe.

Breathe, breathe, breathe.

As the fogginess of sleep clouds my mind, my last thought is:

Adele first, revenge second.

Adele

Waking and sleeping are the same to me, a swirl of confusing madness, one disorienting and dizzying blur of time where my face is always wet, my nightmares are constant, and spots of red flash before my vision, whether I’m awake or not.

My muscles ache and my head is throbbing, but those pains are minor compared to the ache in my chest. The awful, awful ache in my heart, where it’s split in two, rattling around. I can almost hear it clanging around in there.

I’m broken.

And I may never be fixed again.

I slip into another fitful sleep. Or perhaps I’ve just woken up from a nightmare. It doesn’t seem to matter anymore.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Adele

Everyone dies sometime. You would think that would make it easier when you lose someone, but it doesn’t. As I lie in bed I let the tears flow freely. I’m not ashamed of them. I’d cry a thousand more if I could, but eventually I’m all cried out and I just roll over and jam my face between my two pillows.

They say his death was instantaneous, that he didn’t feel any pain. A single gunshot to the head. There’s nothing you could do, they said to try to make me feel better. But that’s not the point. The point is he’s dead and I’ll never see him again, never hug him again, never learn from him again.

They say it’s a miracle that Elsey survived. The bullet hit her elbow, shattering it and deflecting before tearing into her ribcage, narrowly missing a handful of vital organs. They could save her, but not her arm. Now she has to learn to do everything with her left hand.