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“I didn’t tell you? Last week, already.Twosweaters with pretty pearl buttons. Intwoshades ofpink.”

Behold! Eight! (Finn)

Finn Merritt. Wake up.

Groaning at the pain in his head, Finn rolls over and presses his nose into the back of Luca’s neck. It’s comforting, and that lovely mocha smell is one of Finn’s favorite scents in the world, so he lets it lull him back into slumber.

It’s your phone.

His phone? Is it ringing?

They are tracking your phone, Finn.

The words are followed by images flickering at lightning speed through his mind. A stocky man, who smells like licorice and is wearing a worker’s jacket with a black beanie, walks through the ER. There’s a flash, and Finn sees the to-go cup from Common Grounds; another flash shows him sitting in med-bay three, complaining about a sore stomach. Yet another, and Finn is smiling because it turns out to be flatulence. The images slow as the man thanks him, then bumps into Finn and spills lukewarm coffee all over his shirt.

Yes, him. You must get rid of your phone, Finn. Do it now.

Finn tries to shove the voice out of his mind. He doesn’t want to believe his family could be in danger because of him. It’s just his imagination–just a dream. He’s always been an active dreamer, after all. Closing his eyes, he pictures himself smashing the phone, the thought both desperate and oddly satisfying.

No. You must go to the lobby. There is a man headed for Jacksonville, right now. Hurry!

The voice’s insistence is enough to wake him fully, and he sits up in bed, his morning arousal semi-hard against his thigh. What a rude awakening.

The room is dark, and the dream is still fresh in his mind. It’s more than an urgent recollection, it feels like a weight pressing behind his eyes, sending shivers skittering down his spine.

His phone is sitting on the bedside table, but at that moment, he is 100% sure he’d left it in his bag. Or did he?

It’s still turned off, but the dream seemed so real.

Finn is a man of science, of logic. But he lives with—and loves—Gideon, who is spiritual in his day-to-day life; and he’s also lived through the past five months and has seen miracles. Loves a miracle, in fact. The least Finn can do is test the hypothesis.

He’s sad to leave the heat and softness of Luca behind, but dresses in a hoodie and sweats from the pile on the couch. He shifts his pillow into the space he left behind Luca, making sure it supports his mate’s back, before quietly checking on his other mates.

Jay is lying on his back with Leo’s head on his shoulder, both of them tucked under a single sheet on the pullout couch.

They’re snoring in a synchronized rumble, and even though both are light sleepers, neither twitches an eyelid when he slides a key for the room and his phone into his pocket. Finn is glad because he doesn’t want to explain himself, and the voice had said he should hurry.

Creeping toward the door, his foot bumps into an empty water bottle Rowan had tossed onto the floor. He freezes at the sound, holding his breath when Nix sighs and shifts, rolling into Grayson and tugging Rowan’s arm along with him.

Once again, they’re curled up like kittens in a pile on the second bed. When no one stirs, he lets out a silent rush of air in relief.

But where’s Gideon?

Finn checks for a light under the restroom door, but it’s as dark as the rest of the room. He can’t remember where everyone had slept last night, as he’d fallen asleep right after his shower, his headache pounding hard behind his eyes. Not even Nix sending healing vibrations along their bondhad helped.

The others had seemed calmer (and therefore quieter) after learning Lauren Costas had a plan, even if it was a shock that her history of international education and modeling had led to a covert career in espionage.

In retrospect, it made sense to Finn, but Leo had been uncharacteristically discombobulated since finding out. They only had to wait until her “people” made contact, and then they could get to “higher ground” and “regroup” before they had to do what they came to do—it’s far too much hyperbole for Finn’s liking.

But to do that, Finn had to first figure out if there was anything to this voice’s demands. The digital clock on the bedside table says it’s early in the morning, so Finn slides on a random pair of shoes. Judging by the loose fit, they’re Jay’s, but there’s no time to search out his own sneakers; these will do in a pinch.

He’s busy congratulating himself for making it across the gauntlet of sleeping mates in the semi-dark when he almost steps on his errant, ever-vigilant mate.

“Fuck!” he whisper-shouts.

“Where are you going, Dr. Merritt?” Gideon wonders aloud from his spot lying on the floor in front of the door.

No one is getting in—or, in Finn’s case, out—without going through Gideon first.