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TREY

I’m fucked. Completely fucked.

Victor has called two more times since Arella dropped me off this morning. I didn’t pick up. I can’t. Not without something good to tell him.

When he assigned me this mission, one of the first things he said was “Don’t fuck this up.”

I was determined not to. Back then, my mission seemed simple.

Step one: Get close to this twenty-two-year-old woman to find out the source of her immunity.

Step two: Replicate it, and use it to destroy the people who killed my parents.

Step three: Live out the rest of my life knowing my parents would be proud of me for finishing the research they started before they died.

Thing is, I haven’t even completed step one. The moment I found out that whatever tests Victor performed on the last two Immunes killed them, my mission was over. I switched my focus from trying to discover the source of Arella’s immunity to protecting it. Maybe Victor’s willing to risk innocent lives for a greater cause, but I’m not. Especially not Arella’s.

Suddenly, it hits me: I’ve been making a huge mistake.

I’ve been so down in the dumps over our breakup that I’ve forgotten the bigger picture: No matter what Arella has done, she still needs my protection. She still needs me to keep Victor away from her. What the hell am I doing here? I need to get that woman on a plane and fly her as far away from here as possible.

I launch off the toilet I’ve been sitting on for the last forty-some minutes, give myself a shake, then pull my pants up. After washing my hands, I check the time on my phone. Wow, it’s late... 12:53 a.m. What the fuck did I do all day? Nothing, that’s what. I spent all day sulking over the bullshit I call my life when I should have been working out a plan to get Arella to safety.

Since we’re not on the best terms right now, I don’t know how I can convince her to run away with me. Maybe that should be the first step of my new plan: Make things right with her. I’ll buy her the biggest bouquet of flowers I can find and show up on her doorstep with it first thing in the morning. I’ll apologize for everything that happened. I’ll confess that I’m in love with her and that I have been for a while. She’ll forgive me, right? She has to.

Once I’ve won her back, I’ll convince her to go to Paris with me. If she refuses, I’ll try convincing her to help me find my parents’ safe house. On a password-protected voice recording hidden in my childhood teddy bear, my parents left me instructions on how to find an underground hideout. The only problem is that I’ve listened to the recording about a hundred times now, and I still can’t figure out where the safe house is.

Maybe this safe house thing isn’t the greatest idea. Plus, I don’t have time to sit around trying to convince Arella of anything. That woman is too stubborn for her own good.

How about I simply ask her to go on vacation with me? I’ll take her somewhere tropical, where she can enjoy a nice view from our resort window. I just won’t tell her that we won’t be coming back. Damn. I’m pretty sure that’s called kidnapping. Maybe she won’t see it that way if she’s sipping mocktails on a beach with her feet in the sand.

All right. That’s the plan.

Step one: Win my girl back.

Step two: Take her on vacation.

Step three: Drinks on a beach.

Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.

I’d like to think I can wait until the sun rises to start my new plan, but I’m too impatient for that, so I stand at the kitchen counter with my phone on speaker.

My heart pounds with each ring Arella doesn’t pick up. I know it’s late, but I had to give it a shot. Maybe she’s still up. Maybe she?—

“Hello?”

My breath hitches at the sound of her voice. “Arella?”

“Yeah?” She doesn’t sound like she’s been sleeping. Not that I would have felt bad for waking her up anyway.

“Um, it’s me.”

“I know. There’s a really cool feature on phones nowadays where a person’s name pops up whenever they call.”

“I wasn’t sure if you’d pick up since it’s so late.” And because of the way we ended things this morning.

“You’ve got a bad habit of making calls outside of regular-people hours, don’t you?”

“That’s only with my uncle.” And Liz.

“Is everything okay?” She sounds genuinely concerned. I hate when people give a fuck about me, because I don’t deserve anyone’s concern. But when it comes to Arella, I want her to give all the fucks in the world.

“Not really.” Nothing’s okay when I’m apart from you.

“What’s wrong?”

The words fly out of my mouth before my brain can register that I’m even saying them. “I miss you.”

It takes her a few heartbeats to respond. When she does, it sounds tearful. “I miss you too.”

I can’t hide my shock. “You do?”

“I do.”

Those two words give me so much hope. “I want you back, Arella.”

A long pause, then she clears her throat. “Are you drunk again?”

“Nope. I’m completely sober.”

“You really want me back? Even after I told you that I slept with a guy from college?”

Ouch. I could have gone forever and a day without ever hearing her admit that out loud again. I choke up a little. “Are you done with him?”

She only hesitates for a second. “Yeah.”

“Like, completely? You don’t plan to ever see him again? Or talk to him?”

“No.”

“Ever?”

“Ever.”

Maybe it’s stupid of me, but I believe her. “Do you think you can forgive me for being a dick to you?”

“I already have.” The way she doesn’t miss a beat gives me confidence that she means it. “Do you think you’ll ever forgive me?”

I don’t miss a beat either. “I already have.”

I’ve only been on this call with her for a minute, and hope is already filling me to the brim. Things are going so well. At this rate, we’ll be sipping drinks on a beach by tomorrow night.

“Can I come see you in the morning?” I ask, but what I really want to ask is Can I come over right now?

There’s a long pause before she says, “Trey, I think we have some important things to talk about before we start thinking about getting back together.”

She doesn’t need to say what for me to know what things she’s referring to. Little does she know, I was ready to be a father to her baby since the night I found out she was pregnant. We just had a little hump to get over, and now that we are over it, I’m thrilled for this next step.

I want to have a family. More so, I want to have a family with Arella. I picture myself holding a child. I imagine the tiny human calling me daddy . If it’s a girl, I’ll vow to protect her with my life. If it’s a boy, can I teach him to be a better man than me? That probably wouldn’t be too hard. I’ve set the bar pretty low.

I sigh and slump my elbows onto the counter. “Do you think I’d make a good father?”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

“Because I don’t know anything about it. I’ve never even held a baby. How am I supposed to know how to take care of one?”

“Nobody really knows what they’re doing until they do it. Babies are a learning process.” The way she says all that gives me faith that I can do this. If it’s something I can learn, I’m ready for the challenge.

“Don’t they have classes or some shit I can take about parenting?”

The sound of Arella’s giggle feels like a warm sunny day after a week of freezing rain. “ You would take a parenting class?”

“Not alone, but I’d do it with you.”

“Trey, I want you to really, really think about what you’d be getting yourself into. Having a baby means you can’t do whatever you want whenever you want. Life changes when you have a mini human to take care of. It’s a lifetime commitment. Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

I don’t have to think about it. “Yes, baby. I’m ready. I can’t guarantee I’ll win Best Dad of the Year, but you can bet your ass I’ll fight for it.”

I’ll also fight to keep our relationship off the zovernment’s radar. I don’t know how yet, but I’ll figure it out. All I know, without a doubt, is that I am meant to be with this woman. And nothing is going to stop me.

My phone vibrates. I don’t have to look to know who’s calling.

“I’ve gotta go, babe. Is it cool for me to come over in the morning? We can talk about this some more. Maybe look for some parenting classes coming up in the area? I could take you to some bookstores, and we could find some reading material?”

“That sounds wonderful.”

I can almost hear the smile spreading across her lips and lifting her cheeks. I feel a thousand pounds lighter already. “Text me the second you wake up, ’kay? I’ll come over right away.”

After she agrees, I tell her good night, then switch calls just in time.

“Where the fuck have you been, kid?” Victor says through a mouthful of something crunchy. “This is the tenth time I’ve called today.”

It’s actually the fourth time, but whatever. “I forgot my phone at home and was out all day.” My lie sounds pretty convincing.

“I need you to come to base.”

Fuck that. I don’t wanna be anywhere near Shadow Ridge right now. “What for?”

“I’m putting you on a new anti-Royals assignment. We need three agents on it, and one of the men I originally assigned to this didn’t pass his onboarding tests. You’re next on the list.”

“What about my current mission?” The one I’ve been ignoring for weeks.

“This new mission is entry-level shit. You can handle both. Besides, you haven’t been making any advancements on your current mission. Might as well make yourself useful. The briefing starts in thirty minutes.”

The way he says all that means I don’t have a choice. He’s not asking me if I want to accept this new assignment so much as he’s telling me. “Thirty minutes? I live three hours away.”

“Maybe if you had answered your fucking phone, I could have given you more notice. I’ll send a Teleporter. Text me your coordinates.” Click.

Growing up, I begged my uncle to make me a ZIRDA agent. It was my dream to work for the anti-Royals department so I could help bring down the violent organized crime group who blew up my parents.

When I was nine, Victor put me through training where I learned how to throw a proper punch and to control my powers better. He kept saying that once I turned eighteen, he’d assign me my first mission. When that birthday finally came, he told me to get lost.

A few months ago, Victor called me out of the blue to assign me Arella’s mission. He said, “It’s top secret, typically for level-five agents, but if you think you won’t fuck it up, I’ll give it to you.”

I was ecstatic to be handed such an honor and to be told I could skip the onboarding process. Now I’m being spoon-fed another mission, and I’d rather gouge my eyes out with chopsticks. Can Victor seriously not find any other agent to work this one? I’ve got more important things to do—like get Arella away from him.

My phone buzzes with a text from Victor.

We’ll be meeting in room 409. Your coordinates?

With a sigh, I Google what my coordinates are and text it to him.

Within seconds, a loud pop! bursts into my ears like someone’s cracked a whip right next to me. I wince and cover both ears.

A slender guy who looks barely nineteen appears in my kitchen. The zense in my chest tingles, telling me what I already know.

“Sorry, bro,” he says. “I’ve gotten used to the sound. Barely hear it no more. You must be Big V’s nephew.”

“Yep.”

“You got everything you need on you?”

“Give me a sec to get some shoes on.” I head to the garage door where my shoes are, then return to the kitchen to find the dude staring at my living room.

“Where’s your TV?”

“Don’t have one.”

“The fuck do you do all day then?”

I let out an exasperated sigh. “Are you here to judge me for my lack of screen entertainment, or are you here to take me to the Ridge?”

“Right.” He holds out his skinny arm to me. “You ever been teleported before?”

“A few times.”

“Super. Whatever you do, don’t let go.”

Reluctantly, I grab onto his arm. Without any warning whatsoever, that loud pop! startles me again. It’s more painful this time. I’m about to cover my ears until I remember that I can’t let go.

My vision blurs, and my ears ring. The sound stops when my feet hit a hard surface.

Icy-cold liquid drenches me from above. The Teleporter tugs me away from the waterfall.

“Sorry, bro. Missed the mark by a few steps.”

I spit water out of my mouth, then rub away the wetness on my face. The familiar dark cavern hidden behind the waterfall greets me with a sneering Why are you back? I’m wondering the same damn thing. Of all the places I want to be right now, this isn’t it. Especially not while wearing cold, drenched clothes. Still, I follow the Teleporter into the black of the cavern.

“You wouldn’t happen to be a Pyro, would you?” he asks. “My phone’s dead, so I can’t use the flashlight.”

If he typically uses his phone for light, that means he’s either a Hydro, an Aero, or a Terra, who produces rock balls instead of lightning balls. I answer his question by making some flames appear in my palm and throwing them ahead of us.

“Thanks.” The guy gestures a hand forward. “After you.”

We continue down the cavern with my fireball illuminating the way. The Teleporter doesn’t try to make conversation with me, and I’m glad for it. The only sounds are our echoing footsteps and the waterfall fading behind us.

After several minutes, we reach the secret entrance to Shadow Ridge. The door looks like any regular part of the rock wall. I stick my index finger into a little hole and press it against a flat scanning device inside.

Beep! Beep! Beep! A ten-foot section of the wall pushes itself inward, then slides to the left, allowing us inside.

My chest tingles as two security guards approach me, one from either side. One of them is the menacing-looking guy I saw the last time I was here. He’s got a scar down his left eyebrow and a scowl that would scare away all children. The other guy, I don’t recognize.

Together, they search my body for whatever it is they’re told to look for. When they don’t find it, they do the same with the Teleporter.

“Clear. You may proceed.”

The Teleporter offers the guards a friendly thanks before following me to the set of four elevators. We take one of the machines down from floor six to four.

Once the elevator doors slide apart, I step off.

“Do ya know where to go from here?” the Teleporter asks, keeping the elevator open with his arm.

“I got it.”

“Super. You were my last pickup for the day, so if ya see Big V, tell him I’ll see him later.”

“Hold on. How the hell am I gonna get back home?”

The guy shrugs. “All I know is that my shift technically ended at midnight. I just happened to still be around when you needed a lift, so I told Victor I’d do it. If you’re still here in the afternoon, I can take ya back then. That’s when my next shift starts.”

The afternoon? I cannot be here for that long. I have baby-preparation plans with Arella in the morning.

The elevator doors close as I trudge down the hall. With each step I take, my wet shoes squeak over the tile floors and my toes squish against my drenched socks. I fucking hate the feeling of wet socks on my feet.

Following the numbered signs, I make a left, then a right. I arrive at room 409, a small meeting room, to find a young woman in the corner, setting up a zoffee cart. From the back, she doesn’t look any older than eighteen. Petite frame. Pale skin. Long brunette hair tied up in a sleek ponytail.

A rectangular table with about ten rolling chairs around it separates me from her. An iPad and some manila folders lie on top of the table. A whiteboard is attached to the back wall, featuring the date Expo-markered in red.

The girl hums to herself as she plugs a coffee machine into the wall.

I knock on the door lightly as an attempt not to scare her. Total fail.

She jumps and flips around, slapping a hand against her chest. “Jesus. You scared me.”

I offer her a tiny smile. “Sorry.”

“Are you here for the mission briefing?” She’s got a soft, mousey voice. It’s not irritating to me like most people who talk like that. Hers is more soothing than anything. Like she’s teaching a meditation class or trying to relax a baby.

“I am.” I step into the room and take a seat in one of the rolling chairs.

“I was told the meeting doesn’t start until one thirty.” She checks her watch. “It’s just past one. You’re really early. Would you like some zoffee?”

I haven’t had zoffee in forever. It’s got enough caffeine in it for Zordis. The Ordinary kind does nothing for us, but it tastes good.

“Black, please.”

Steam rises from the mug as she pours a healthy amount of zoffee for me. As she sets the mug down in front of me, my zense activates.

“I’ve never seen you before,” she says with a bright smile that feels more friendly than flirty. I appreciate her for it. “You must be new or a field agent.”

“Field agent.” I hold my hand out for a shake. “Trey.”

“Katie.” She accepts my palm with her little hand. As we shake, her eyes go wide and blank. I know that look. It’s the same look Liz used to get whenever she touched my hand and my most painful memory invaded her mind.

A rush of anxiety radiates off Katie as she draws her hand back. As if practiced, she erases any evidence from her face that she just used her powers on me and is nervous about it. I’m not in pain, so I’m gonna assume she’s got an ability like Liz’s that allows her to see into my head. I wonder what she just saw. I’m tempted to ask, but I’m not in the mood to discuss whatever glimpse into my life she just got. None of it is good.

Instead, I feign ignorance. “What’s your role here?”

“I’d like to say I’m a field agent too, but for now, I’m just Victor’s assistant.”

“What do you do for him?”

“Whatever he wants. I run errands around base, deliver messages, do paperwork here and there.” Katie sits in a seat two away from mine and gestures toward my steaming mug. “And I make zoffee. Ya know, the important stuff.”

I lift my mug to take a sip. It burns my tongue a little. “Zoffee is important. It takes a skilled person to brew it well.”

“Victor says I’m the best at it. He assigned me my first on-base mission today—not because I make good zoffee. I’ve been asking for a mission for months. I’m super excited about it.”

I know she is by her excitement rushing through my head. “What is it?”

She narrows her eyes at me. “You’re a field agent. You should know the rules. We don’t go into details about missions amongst each other.”

“Right. I was just testing you.”

“Surrre you were.” Katie gestures toward my damp clothing, with her eyebrows pressed together. “So did ya swim here?”

“The Teleporter ported me here right under the waterfall.”

She giggles. “Sorry, I don’t mean to laugh. That’s just kinda funny. You don’t seem to mind that you’re wet though.”

“It’s whatever.” I do mind, but what can I do about it? It’s not like I possess a gift that can make my clothes instantly dry.

Victor appears in the doorway, wearing a dark brown suit. “Katie, the folders, please.”

Katie jumps to her feet and grabs the manila folders from the end of the table. She hands them to Victor with a mousey “Here you go, sir.”

“Thank you.” Victor makes his way around the table to the head seat. Two of his bodyguards station themselves on opposite sides of the room. A third one stands outside the door. “Katie, can you text me updates on your mission as you go today?”

“Yes, sir.” She takes her iPad from the table and hugs it against her chest.

“Thanks. Nothing else for now. Feel free to take a break before your assignment arrives. Shouldn’t be too long.”

I’ll never understand how Victor can talk to people so nicely when he always addresses me with revulsion. When I was a young child, Uncle V was my best friend. He’d take me out for pie at two in the morning. We’d ride around the neighborhood on roller skates. We’d have sleepovers at his house and spend hours building blanket forts together.

After Aunt Jodi left him for her soul mate, leaving behind only an apology note, he transformed into the angry man he is today. Now he acts as if looking at me is detrimental to his health. The day he lost her was the day I lost my Uncle V.

Sometimes, I still hold out for the day he returns to that loving uncle I made all those good memories with. Deep under all that bitterness somewhere, way, way deep, I’m confident there’s that same man who used to treat me like his own son. I’d be lying if I said that when I accepted Arella’s mission, I didn’t hope my success would bring that man back.

The room is silent after Katie leaves. Neither Victor nor his bodyguards acknowledge my existence, so I take a sip of my zoffee and pretend they don’t exist either.

A few awkward minutes later, two field agents join us. They take the chairs across the table from me. One is a stocky short man. The other is a tall blonde woman with tattoos running up and down each arm. Victor chitchats with them for a while with a smile on his face that’s never directed at me.

It’s just before one thirty when Victor says, “All right. Let’s get started.”

Good. The faster we start, the faster I can get outta here. I want to be at Arella’s apartment as soon as she wakes up.

“The Royals have been getting their hands on powerful weapons,” Victor says. “By that, I don’t mean guns or tanks. They’re collecting Tickers. Anyone know what that is?”

When the other agents shake their heads, I raise my hand. Quickly, I realize it’s a mistake.

“What is this? A fucking middle school? Put your goddamn hand down and answer the question.”

Resisting the urge to snap back at my uncle, I lower my arm. “It’s a Pyro with an illness called smother. Unlike Dormants where their powers just aren’t active, Zordis with smother still have active flames. The flames are simply smothered as if their skin’s a containment system. They can’t produce fire outside of their bodies, but inside, those flames and energy build until they eventually explode like a bomb.”

Victor nods, the most approval I’ve gotten from him in years. “The range of a Ticker’s explosion is anywhere between five feet to five miles. It incinerates everything in its path.”

“Sounds like a bad day for anyone nearby,” tattoo lady says.

“Correct, and word on the street is that the Royals have found a way to control when those explosions happen. They’ve been kidnapping Tickers and using them to attack Ordinary government officials. Did you hear about that bombing in Lisbon six months ago? Authorities never found any traces of explosives. Can you guess why?”

“So,” I say, dreading my next words, “the Royals are using unwilling suicide bombers?”

“Exactly.” Victor slides a manila folder down the table to each person.

In mine is a blurry picture of an Asian woman standing outside a grocery store. The photo is paperclipped to a single sheet of paper with the name Kim Nguyen on it. Under that are the words somewhere in Nevada . There’s no home address, no other names, not even a clue as to where or when the picture was taken. What the fuck?

When I received Arella’s manila folder, it was loaded with hours’ worth of reading material. I wouldn’t be so pissed about this folder if the other agents didn’t clearly have multiple photos to work with, paperclipped to stacks and stacks of information.

Victor continues, “Ever since word got out that the Royals are kidnapping Tickers, the Tickers have gone into hiding. Unfortunately, that makes it harder for us to track them down and protect them. Each of you has been assigned a different Ticker. Your job is to find them before the Royals do and bring them here for safety.”

“What if they don’t want to come?” I ask.

“Then you force them.”

My face twists into hard lines. “So you want us to kidnap them?”

Victor shoots me a lethal glare. “Would you rather the Royals do so first? Better us than them, right?”

I mean, he has a point, but I still don’t like the idea of taking someone by force. It’s always bothered me that ZIRDA is willing to end ten lives to save ten thousand. When I was a kid, I thought I’d understand it when I grew up. Here I am at twenty-six, and I still don’t understand it.

For the next two hours, the four of us brainstorm tactics we can use to find these Tickers and bring them to base. I’m not sure how Victor thinks I can find someone when all I’ve got is a blurry photo and a common name for a Vietnamese woman. The other agents have things like places of employment and names of relatives. I’m pretty sure Victor assigned the hardest Ticker to me with hopes that I’ll fail.

Wait... What if that’s why he assigned Arella’s mission to me? What if he knew that finding an explanation to her immunity was a wild goose chase from the start? If so, what’s his game? Why would he want me to get close to Arella if discovering the source of her immunity is impossible?

The meeting finally ends around seven in the morning. Six hours. Six whole fucking hours of pretending to be interested in a mission I have no intention of even starting. By tonight, I’ll be on a beach, sipping out of pineapples with my girl.

After tossing the manila folder into the trash, I fold up the photo of Kim Nguyen with her single sheet of useless information and stick it into my back pocket. Then I rush out of the meeting room without saying a word to anyone.

Somehow, I need to find a way back home. First things first though; I gotta find a bathroom. We weren’t given a single break throughout that entire meeting, and I consumed four cups of zoffee.

I find a bathroom down the hall and stumble into it. My head spins as I unzip my semi-dry jeans. When I finish peeing, I’m woozy as hell. I have to slap my palm against a wall just to steady myself on my way to the sinks. Nausea rises up my stomach as I wash my hands. I’m about to dry them off when vomit races up my throat.

I half run, half stagger past the urinals and back into the first stall. My knees hit the floor just as I throw myself over the toilet bowl and cough. Nothing comes out. I cough again, gagging as my body convulses like it wants to puke, but it doesn’t. I wish something would come up, because at least then, I’d feel a little better.

For who knows how long, I gag into the toilet bowl, trying to cough up my intestines. After a while, my chest hurts from heaving and my throat’s dry as fuck. I need water, stat! The cafeteria is two floors down. I could get water from there if my body would stop shaking.

I feel like I’ve been on a plane for an hour while the pilot does flips in the air. What the hell is going on? Was it something I ate? I haven’t eaten much lately because of my lack of appetite. For dinner, I had a granola bar. Beyond that, all I’ve had is zoffee. Was there something in that? The other agents and Victor had zoffee from the same brew I did. Are any of them sick? Whatever this is, it’s almost as bad as—I gasp. The glimmer! It’s Arella. Something’s wrong.

I push myself off the floor and stumble out of the bathroom like I would stumble out of a bar at three in the morning. When I reach the elevators, I stab the up button almost fifteen times, even though it lit up the first time I pressed it. A ding! sounds, then the doors slide open.

In my haste to rush into the machine, I run into Katie on her way out. Her face smacks right into my chest.

“Ow!” She rubs her forehead with her hand not hugging her iPad.

“Sorry.” I grab her shoulders to steady her—or am I steadying myself? Either way, neither of us falls.

She offers me a warm smile as she steps back into the elevator with me. “You’re just the person I came to find.”

“What for?”

In her sweet little voice, she says, “I’m here to take you to the second floor. Victor needs you.”

Fuck no. “Whatever it is, tell him he’s gonna have to wait. I’ve gotta go.” I’m putting my foot down this time. He didn’t give me a choice earlier, and I didn’t fight him on it. I’ll fight him now because this time, Arella’s in trouble.

“Where do you gotta go in such a rush?”

“Home. Something came up.” I’m about to press the 6 button when Katie grabs my arm.

“I’m sorry. Unfortunately, I can’t allow you to leave.” Even though she says it in her mousey little voice, it triggers a pang of fear inside me.

“What’re you gonna do to stop me?”

“Um, let’s just say you don’t wanna find out.” Whatever gift she has that makes her confident she can overpower me must be good.

Without hesitation, she presses the 2 button, and the doors close. Then she offers me another of her sweet smiles. They’re beginning to irk me.

Katie eyes me as the elevator takes us downward. “Are you okay? You’re lookin’ a bit red.”

“I’m fine,” I say as my arms go numb, my head throbs, and my legs feel like they’re about to give out, and?—

Ding!

I follow Katie out toward the community room, even though I want to run straight back into the elevator. Behind the glass walls, a group of four agents are on their laptops, working together. Opposite them is the cafeteria. The rest of this floor is a bunch of sleeping accommodations. Some bedrooms are better than others. The higher-level agents have rooms that are more like luxury apartments complete with their own kitchens and walk-in closets.

When I lived here, my bedroom was basically a square space where the twin-size bed took up half the floor. It included a little closet and a teeny bathroom, where the toilet always broke down. I’m pretty sure Victor assigned me that room because it’s the shittiest and farthest away from everyone else.

As we pass the cafeteria, I spot a woman in her late thirties, who I’ve never seen before. She’s reading a book floating in front of her face while she cuts into a plate of pancakes. A group of men in their forties or fifties sit at a table two away from the woman. I don’t recognize any of the men either.

As soon as Katie takes two rights then a left, I know exactly where she’s going. I’ll bet the burn marks are still on the door from all the times I accidentally set my bedroom on fire. Whenever I got too upset, which was quite often, I’d lose control of my powers. My stuff would fly around the ceiling and bang against the walls. If my emotions were really bad, everything would catch on fire. After the fifth time that happened, Victor assigned a Hydro to live in the room across from mine. That lady’s job was to extinguish my fires before they spread too far.

I follow Katie down the last hallway. At the end of it are all three of Victor’s guards standing outside the closed door of my old bedroom. I was right. The burn marks are still there.

“Why are we here?” I ask.

Instead of answering my question, Katie types a four-digit code into the keypad. I doubt it’s the same code from when I lived here. After releasing the chain lock that was never there before, she opens the door and steps aside for me to head in first.

My heart drops at the sight of the woman sitting on my old bed. She’s wearing a white T-shirt she doesn’t own. I know because it’s four sizes too big. The shorts she’s wearing aren’t hers either. I know because they’re orange, and Arella never wears orange.

I glare at my uncle across the room. “What the fuck is this?”