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"Sounds fancy," I tell her. "How's it going, Dad?"

"Teagan, I can't even look at you," he says.

"Is it as bad out there as they say?" Boyd asks.

"It's bad," my dad says.

"Oh yeah," one of the security guards adds. "It's worse."

"What is?" I ask. "What's going on?"

But we're already at the doors now. And I see it—the masses of people lining the sidewalks and streets, police everywhere. Gods of Tomorrow songs blare from a nearby vehicle rigged withspeakers loud enough that the ground shakes, and still, I can hear the screaming.

And they're cheering…for me.

"We love you, Teagan!" the crowd shouts.

"Teagan! Where are they?" someone else yells as I pass. "When are they coming back?"

I pass a couple more girls with 'D' and 'L' carved into their tits, and for the first time, I see it as Luca told me.

Imitationisthe highest form of flattery.

"Don't engage them," Boyd warns. "Just get in the van."

But I don't listen. I raise my arms and wave to them all with cuffed hands, and they cheer even louder.

"Hey, look, Ma," I say. "I made it."

If looks could kill, I'd be dead right now.

Someone steps out and opens the side door of a white van about ten yards away. In pink script in front of a floral mountain mural, the words'Rancho San Flores Medical Retreat'stretch across the side of the vehicle.

Retreat, huh?

A hand on my back ushers me toward the vehicle just before I hear screaming from overhead.

I look up just in time to see a woman jump from the parking garage and splatter on the pavement below.

Holy shit. Holyfuckingshit.

My mom screams, burying her head into my dad's chest. Police run from all sides as chaos ensues.

And then another jumps.

And I laugh. I fucking laugh so hard that I double over, not listening to the instructions they're shouting at me, and eventually, that man who opened the van door grabs my feet while Boyd lifts me from under my arms. And just before they toss me into the vehicle, I swear I see the gleam of one of those gold masks in the crowd.

But I don't have any time to process it because, even though I'm not really fighting, they stick a needle in my arm anyway and push the plunger down.

I stop laughing, and it all goes dark.

TO BE CONTINUED...