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F our-hundred-and-seventy seconds.

That’s how long I’ve been trapped inside my room with Roger’s body. His head is in fragments, and the stench is suffocating. At the five-hundred-second mark, I pull myself up from the mattress, rush over to the toilet, and heave. Sweat and tears trickle down my face as I hold my hair back, emptying my stomach contents into the bowl.

Depleted, I slide down to the tile floor and collapse.

I spare a quick glance at Roger.

Then I yank myself back up and vomit again.

Alarm bells continue to sing from ghostly hallways, making the building come alive. Pressing forward on the toilet rim, weak and out of breath, I turn to look at the wall, imagining Isaac’s voice seeping through. My eyes water. The sirens give me hope that he hasn’t been caught yet. My captor was bluffing, trying to shake me. That monster would love nothing more than to watch me crumble before slitting my throat as my final breath falls out like heartbreak.

I start to pace.

Medicine churns through my bloodstream, keeping my fever at bay. Antibiotics were also given. I’m not sure why, but they have a plan for me.

Or maybe they’re just waiting for the egg transfer to prove successful before tossing me in an incinerator.

Combing my hair back with trembling fingers, I move in tight circles, avoiding the bloodbath at my feet. I refuse to give up, fall, or break. Not yet. I’m not dead, and Isaac is free. He’s hiding. Assessing his surroundings, constructing a plan. I just need to hold out for a little while longer until he?—

My head snaps up when I hear something.

No!

They’ve come for me.

Thinking quickly, I rush over to Roger’s corpse, hoping he has a weapon on him. A gun, a knife, anything. Something for protection. I try not to gag as I search his pockets. I need to?—

“Everly.”

I freeze, my hands stalling midair. Instinctively, I glance up at the wall, blinking rapidly as the voice registers. It can’t be him. “Isaac…?”

Nearly tripping over Roger, I rush over to the wall and plant both hands against it.

But he speaks again.

And he’s not on the other side of the wall—he’s at my door.

“You said you knew the code. I need it. Fast .”

Holy shit.

I whip my head right as my heart ricochets inside my torn-up chest. I hear my blood pumping in my ears, my pulse in overdrive.

I move.

Scampering to the door, I reach for the handle and pull, over and over. “Isaac! What are you doing here?”

“Code.”

My brain feels like scrambled eggs. “I-I… three, two, four…”

Beep, beep, beep.

“I think…eight?” I’ve memorized the tonal composition of the first three digits, but the fourth number has always remained elusive. It’s farther away from the others.

Beep.

I tug on the handle.

Nothing.

Panic buzzes through my veins as tears glide down my cheeks in salty streaks. “Isaac… You came back.”

He presses the numbers again, but they don’t work.

I choke out another cry and press my forehead to the metal door. “Try nine.”

Error.

“Seven.”

Error.

“Fuck,” he curses, his panic evident. “Stupid fucking thing. Goddammit .”

I hear him shimmying the handle.

So close. One number away.

My knees wobble as I bounce up and down, frantic. “Please, hurry. Oh, God…”

In another second, I’ll see him. He’ll take my hand, and we’ll run. We’ll breach the other side of these walls together.

I start second-guessing the first order of numbers as we both jiggle the door handle with sickly desperation. “Try two, three, four…”

“I’m such an idiot.” He practically growls the words as he fumbles through more number sequences. “Fucking idiot .”

I sob his name. “Isaac…”

Beep, beep, beep, beep.

Error.

“This is stupid. This is so fucking stupid?—”

“I would have to agree with you there.” Another voice registers; a different voice.

The monster. Our sentencer.

Blood drains from my face as my breath lodges in my throat like a jagged cork in a bottleneck. “No—wait, wait…”

A scuffle, a strange noise.

Isaac makes a sound.

Pain.

“No…please!” I scream, screech, pound on the door with both fists. “Leave him alone! No, no! Isaac !”

Commotion answers me.

Footsteps, a muddle of unfamiliar voices.

I don’t hear him.

I don’t hear Isaac.

“ No !” Madness fuses with my pleas as I process the awful permanence of this moment. A heroic rescue eclipsed by goodbye. “Don’t touch him!” I cry out, still pounding on the door, praying it will disintegrate beneath the weight of my agony. “Don’t you touch him !”

The Timekeeper sneers at me. “Apologies for changing the code, but I couldn’t risk a daring rescue with a loose end running around,” he says, feigning regret. “Shame this didn’t pan out for you—as much as I do respect the valiant effort.”

Wailing, I fall forward, my lips kissing the surface of the door, hoping that the closer I get to him, the more power my words will carry.

But it’s too late.

Only silence greets me.

I drop to the floor beside Roger’s lifeless body, curling into a shivering, hopeless ball, surrendering to the creeping numbness of my slow death.

He came back.

Isaac came back for me.

And that choice cost him his life.