19.
“Come on, Vi, you’re safe now,” a smooth voice said in my ear. “Wake up, beautiful.”
“Jag?”
“No. We got him. He won’t bother you anymore.”
“Zenn!” I threw my arms around him and cried into his neck, just like I had the day he left. His hands pressed on my back, but he didn’t rub the way Jag did.
“Where’s Jag?” I asked.
“Don’t worry. You’re safe.”
I wasn’t worried about myself. Jag’s words rushed through my mind. “We have to stay together. We have a better chance of surviving if we stay together.”
“Where is he?” I asked.
Zenn didn’t answer as he tied a rope around my waist. We shimmied down the tree in half the time it took to climb it.
When we landed, an entire squad of Special Forces waited with tasers—pointed at me. I glanced at Zenn.
He wore a black suit, to go with his Forces-issued haircut and stern frown.
“Vi!” Jag struggled against a pair of tech-cuffs.
Two SF agents were rummaging through our backpack, tossing the medical supplies onto the forest floor. “It’s not here,” one said.
“Then she’s still got it,” Zenn said.
“Got what?” I sidestepped, but Zenn’s hand shot out and gripped my left wrist. Fear hit my heart. He would feel the tag. SF agents are trained to feel and see and hear everything.
Sure enough, his fingers stalled on the miniscule bump. A smile formed on his face. “Tagged.”
“It’s not activated,” I said, yanking my hand out of his. I looked at Jag, and for the first time he looked truly scared. He shook his head, trying to tell me something. Sure, I knew Jag-speak, but I hadn’t graduated into the body language department yet.
“Where is it, Vi?” Zenn asked.
“Where is what, traitor?” My voice cracked.
“Don’t make me use my tech against you.”
“Like you used your mouth?”
He shifted uncomfortably. Zenn was one of Them—the ones who took Ty away. A government spy. I couldn’t believe it. He’d kissed me in the park! His e-comm had said how much he missed me, how he was trying to get me out of prison. He’d sent his love.
Disbelief blossomed into anger. Anger spiraled into full-fledged fury.
“Vi, please.”
“Please what?”
“Give me the tracker.”
My mouth dropped open and, “Tracker?” came out. No way was I carrying the tech that would broadcast my position to the world—something that would lead Thane right to me. No. Way.
Jag swore and thrashed. The other agents pressed closer, pushing Jag in front of them. He looked everywhere but at me.
“I didn’t,” I said. “Jag, I swear I didn’t.”
“Give it to me.” Zenn grabbed my arm again.
“Don’t touch her!” Jag yelled, kicking backward. Two men fell down. I punched an agent in the stomach. When he doubled over, I grabbed his taser and pointed it at Jag’s tech-cuffs.
I flew backward from the blast of three tasers.
“Vi!” Jag’s anguished voice rang in my ears. I stared straight up, unable to move. The canopy of trees created an umbrella that blocked out the stars. A single taser beam should have knocked me out. With three, I should be dead.
The fire in my chest needed cooling. Hot pain spread into my lungs and I couldn’t gulp enough oxygen to put out the flames. A rushing white noise like water falling hundreds of feet clogged my ears. I closed my eyes and wished for death.
Air moved over and around my face. The crackling of dry leaves echoed through my head. Slowly, the rustling was drowned out by something much worse. Words.
Thane’s voice infiltrated even my death. So many choices, he said. Good or bad? Zenn or Jag? What’s it going to be, V?
Only one person called me V.
My dad.
The voice belonged to my dad.
I could only come up with one explanation: Thane Myers was my dad.