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“What aren’t you telling her?” I ask.

Her eyes shift to where Imogene left, making sure she’s out of earshot. “There was a threat. Down at the jail.”

“What kind?”

“Explosives. Enough to level a city block.”

“Shit.”

“They discovered it in time,” Camille adds, “which was probably intentional, but it’s clear Timothy isn’t going to give up easily. And even if he has left the country, he still has loyalists willing to do his dirty work.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “He’s not giving up.” I nod at my girl. “Especially not when it comes to her.”

“That’s how I felt, too, and what I told the agents. The threat on the building that is holding his son… it’s obvious that he’s willing to go to any lengths to fight the government.” She takes a step forward. “Silas, I’m trusting you to take care of her.”

“That’s not in question. Imogene is my priority.”

“That’s what I don’t understand. Why are all of you so invested in my daughter?” She looks me in the eye. “The fact you don’t think it’s unusual for four men to be interested in one woman is a signal of how fucked up your understanding is of appropriate societal norms.”

I lean against the counter, forcing myself not to be offended. “You’re right. Societal norms are lost on us. We were raised differently. We didn’t get to go to school or the university like you and Anex did. We weren’t allowed to socialize with the opposite sex, past the age of twelve. We lived in the donums—raised by house monitors. We grew up under a rigid structure of documenting Lapses, receiving Corrections, and forced to listen to hours and hours of Anex’s lectures. We went through intensive training and ultimately were singularly focused on building the community Anex wanted. Then one day Anex decided we were different—we were brought into the inner circle and told the secrets of Serendee. The consequence of that is that we were removed even further from ‘normal.’” I inhale deeply before immediately releasing it. “Imogene was given to us as a toy, another object for Anex to use to distract and control us. The difference is that over time, it became more than that. She became our reason to push back. We became her reason to challenge her beliefs.”

“But don’t you see that outside of Serendee, this type of relationship isn’t sustainable?”

“That’s not for you to decide.”

We both look at the door leading from the dining room into the kitchen. Imogene stands there, a small travel bag clutched in her hand. Her words ring loud and clear.

“Honey, I—” Camille starts, but Imogene cuts her off.

“I’ve spent my entire life being controlled and manipulated.” Imogene’s voice is clear and convicted. “Everything from what I ate, to what I wore, to where I slept, and ultimately who I was mated with—and even that was taken from me.” She moves to stand beside me, her small hand sliding against mine. “Silas is my choice. Rex and Elon and Levi are my choices. Just because you don’t understand it, doesn’t mean you’re right. Not about this.” She swallows. “I will not allow anyone to take this choice away from me.”

She lifts her head to look at me, and I cup her behind the neck and say, “I love you,” then brush my lips across hers.

“I love you, too,” she says, pushing up on her toes to kiss me back. When we pull apart Camille’s expression has softened, although the line of worry is still etched on her forehead.

“You’re right. It’s not my place to judge. And arguing about it isn’t how I want to spend my last few minutes with my daughter.”

“You’re not coming?”

“They want me to stay here and pretend like everything is normal.” She jerks her hand toward the door. “There are two agents out there ready to take you to the safe house.”

Imogene releases my hand and walks over to her mother. Next to one another it’s striking how similar they look. There’s no mistaking their connection. And when Imogene wraps her arms around her mother’s shoulder and says, “Thank you for coming for us,” something shifts between the two of them. Camille’s arms cinch around her daughter and the two cling to one another like this may be their only chance.

If Anex has his way, it may be.

23

Imogene

Two agents were on the porch when we left and were ushered into a black SUV. My mother looked small and sad on the front porch, arms wrapped around her body, as we drove off.

“You’ll see her again,” Silas says, pulling me against his side.

I nod, but there’s a knot of worry in the pit of my stomach. I don’t know much about the police or federal agents, or the crimes Anex has committed, but I do know that none of these are things he likes—things he approves of—and every day that passes we’ve betrayed him more and more.

The bomb sets all of this in a new direction. It was a warning—a clear threat—that he’s willing to take out his biggest assets. I lean forward between the seats.

“I need you to turn around.”