“Oh, I know you’re Ava.” He holds a fingerprint-scanning device under my face, making sure I see. “You are unquestionably Ava Goodwin. I have to say I’m impressed that you and your sister never once put a single finger out of line. Eighteen years you were both perfect. But that imitation microchip . . .”
He trails off, clicking his tongue. “Your father must have known there was no real solution for that hiccup in the plan. No trick to fool the machines. Or me. How unfortunate for your twin. That must have been difficult for her, being the second-born. The secret. What is her name? I bet I’d be only the fifth person to ever know it.”
I snap my gaze up. If I could weaponize the venom in my eyes, Halton would be dead where he sits.
“I want to impress upon you again, Ava, how fortunate it is that I captured you. The unit that took your sister captive, however . . .” He leans back against his seat, calmly clasping his hands in his lap. Taking his time, a habit picked up from the elder Roth. “It’s better if you don’t know what my grandfather has authorized them to do.”
He’s lying. An interrogation tactic.
I will not break for you.
“After the soldiers are through with her, your twin will publicly take the fall as Ava Goodwin. Whether she’s made to confess or not, evidence will unquestionably link her to your father’s involvement in a foiled terrorist plot with the Russians . . . or the Saudis. The options are endless. All will be believed.”
A sudden gust of wind muffles Halton’s threats. But the respite is brief, and I clearly hear his next tormenting promise.
“Both will be executed as traitors.”
I lose all sense for a moment, lost in heartrending visions of my father and sister lined up against a blank wall, blindfolded and shot.
“My grandfather will kill you, too, of course. Privately, without the public’s knowledge. He’ll shoot you himself and have your body incinerated, destroying the definitive proof that the Goodwin twins ever existed.”
I’m drowning again, hit with a wave of absolute fear. He’s right. Governor Roth has the power to make my entire family disappear, erasing the Goodwin name from all memory and time.
The silver bars on Halton’s shoulders catch the sun and shine, signifying his command.
“I’m going to save you, Ava.”
He knows what he wants, and he knows he’s going to get it no matter what.
He wants me.
My thoughts swim in maddening circles, going nowhere. I’m empty, drained dry, and I float disoriented between denial and belief. My anchor—my sister—is gone.
Then I remember my swollen neck. I shake my head, attempting to clear my muddled mind. You’re drugged. He’s manipulating you. None of this is real.
“You’re lying,” I fire back. My voice sounds heavy and strange, my tongue thick in my mouth.
Halton releases a disappointed sigh. Pursing his lips, he reaches into a bag next to his chair and pulls out some sort of cloth. He spreads it carefully across his knees; it’s a taupe cotton scarf.
Mira’s scarf.
“I was hoping I wouldn’t have to show you this. I wanted it to be a surprise.” He looks at me closely, his fingers lightly grazing the fabric.
All at once I break.
I thrust forward, my body writhing with frenetic abandon, an aching cry pouring from my chest.
“I’ve been ordered to burn this.” He lowers his eyes, his thumb and forefinger seizing hold of two frayed corners. Gently, he folds them together. Again, then once more. “But I’ve kept it for you as a gift. To remember her by.”
He places the neat triangle on my lap like a burial flag.
“What was your sister’s name, Ava? I’d really like you to tell me. We can remember her together.”
Mira. My sister’s name is Mira, and she will live inside me even if we are separated by death.
The chair groans as Halton rises and stalks toward me. He kneels, inches between us, his warm breath like thunder on my skin. He searches my stained, hardened face. I jerk my head away, protesting his closeness.
“I can protect you, Ava. I can save you.” He reaches out to wipe a tear that falls down my cheek. “No one has to know. It can be our own little secret.”
I lift my chin, and Halton leans in closer, our lips almost touching.
I spit solidly in his face. He stumbles backward, his pale blue eyes wide with surprise.
“The people will know,” I promise. “The blood of my family is on your hands. The Common will come for you.”
I watch with dull satisfaction as his neck and cheeks darken to a deep crimson, my saliva dripping down his narrow chin. He wrenches Mira’s scarf from my lap and wipes his face clean before discarding it on the ground.
He stands, refusing to meet my eyes, and turns abruptly toward the tree line. I follow his slow, stiff withdrawal until he disappears into the trees.
The moment I’m alone, I sink into my chair, all life escaping from my shackled limbs.
Something moves suddenly in the shadows. I flick my eyes to the right and see Halton’s agent materialize from behind the military SUV, hand on his gun. His lips lift into a smile.
“You’ll pay for that,” Agent Hayes promises. “Glut.”
My eyes fall to Mira’s scarf.
There’s no part left of me to hurt.
MIRA
I stand as still as the trees, rooted to the forest floor, cultivating my plan of attack.
It’s been twelve hours since I drank the last drop of my water, ate the last morsel from my protein packs, and showered the last ounce of my live-or-die antidrone spray onto my body until my skin shone and my latest disguise reeked with the potent pine odor. My ankle throbs again beneath its soiled wrappings, the stabbing pain so ruthless I’m certain my foot will soon fall off. My lungs are stripped, and I fear my eyes will go blind from never closing. But I am here. Just south of Rayla’s coordinates.
And so is Halton.
Even through the dense woodland, its leaves and foliage soaking up all sound for miles, I heard it. Ava’s scream. I ran, her cry reverberating in my head, guiding me to her in this labyrinth of a forest. Just when I thought I was lost, I heard the manic shouts of a young man’s voice.
I found Halton in a frenzied tantrum. Cursing and hacking at the thick, sharp trees with his fists and boots. Hidden inside a hollow trunk, I watch him now as he paces between two logs ten yards from me. Twenty yards from the forest’s perimeter.
“Just do it. Just do it—prove to him you’re not weak,” Halton mumbles distractedly to himself, mopping the sweat from his forehead with his elbow, his entire body shaking.
My own muscles vibrate with a powerful adrenaline no spray could hope to mask. I mute my energy. Hone it. Reserve it for when it’s time.
Halton tries to pull himself together, tucking in his uniform, slicking back his greasy hair. He slumps down on a log matted with moss. A hologram pops up in front of him, and I see the moment that caused the downfall of my family. Me, Ava, my father. Our living room in Trinity Heights. He studies the image stolen by his tablet’s camera like he’s watching a film.
I barely catch his whispering, “They all think I’m weak.”
I throw it back at him. “You thought I was too.” I raise my weapon and move for him.
Halton whips around to find me six . . . five . . . four feet from where he stands. His face lights up, astonished.
“It’s you!” he blurts out.
Before he can say another word, I jab the pointed end of my umbrella into his throat. He doubles over, choking, his mouth opening and closing like a landed fish gasping for air.
“I . . . can’t . . . breathe,” he rasps, clawing at his neck.
Quickly dropping my umbrella, I grab my knife and pull Halton up by his hair, shoving the blade to his Adam’s apple. His panicked hands swat at the knuckle duster protecting my grip as I grope at his duty belt and seize the gun above his right hip. I point the barrel to his temple.
“You don’t deserve to breathe.”