We’re compromised.” James and I exchange a glance, fear spiking within me. “I’m on my way,” Cas tells Dallas, and then hangs up.
“What’s going on?” James asks.
“Get your things,” Cas says, storming past us. “We’re leaving.” He pauses in the doorway and turns to look back at me. “I’m sorry about your friend,” he says. “I really am. But a returner is always a threat, and Lacey is gone. It’ll be only a matter of time before The Program comes for the rest of us.”
“Do you think they have Lacey?” I ask, frantic.
“Yes,” Cas says in a quiet voice. “I think Lacey is with The Program. Now get your things and meet me at the van.”
Cas leaves, and I turn to James, waiting for him to tell me Cas is wrong. But James just stares after him. “I tried,” he whispers, mostly to himself. Then he lowers his eyes to meet mine. “I tried to help Lacey, but it wasn’t enough.”
“We have to get her back,” I say, nodding to get James to understand. “We have to find her and get her back.”
James can only mumble his agreement, but he’s not here with me. His eyes look unfocused and he starts out of the room. I follow, the floor cold on my feet, while I search my mind for other places Lacey could be. Maybe she decided to go to the Suicide Club after all. Maybe . . . anything. This can’t be the end.
Guilt attacks my conscience when I think about how Lacey acted just before we left for the Suicide Club. I should have done more, but I thought I’d see her tomorrow. I thought there was more time. I was so stupid. She recalled a memory she wasn’t supposed to—and I just left her.
James is already in the room when I walk in, stuffing clothes into the duffel bag. I grab a pair of jeans and pull them on before crossing to the dresser. I take out the pill, and at that moment James looks over. “If we find Lacey,” I say, my body trembling, “we could give her the pill. Maybe it could help. Maybe it could cure her.”
James lowers his eyes. “It was her memories that hurt her, Sloane. I’m not sure giving her more of them is a good idea.”
I look down at the pill, ready to debate the point, but Cas is yelling from the other room for us to hurry. I shove the pill into my pocket and finish packing up our stuff. Before I worry about what to do with the pill, we have to find Lacey.
Once packed, we head toward the door. James staggers to a stop and picks up the note from the floor to examine it one last time. “What does this mean?” he asks. “Who’s Miller?”
“I don’t know,” I say, moving beside him to read the word again. “But it hurts.”
“I know,” James says, crushing the paper in his fist. “It’s like grief, a pain right here”—he taps his heart—“for someone I don’t know.”
But I can tell what he’s thinking—we must have known Miller.
* * *
It’s twenty minutes later when James is driving the Escalade we’d left Oregon with, Cas following in the white van. We’re picking up Dallas and the others at the Suicide Club, but as we drive, I watch the streets, hoping to catch sight of Lacey wandering or lost. I don’t want to believe she’s gone.
Lacey—snow-blond hair she dyes red just because. Lacey who ate cupcakes for lunch and questioned everything . I could have done more to help her. I could have stayed behind tonight. But she ran away, took her stuff—where would she go? What did she remember that was so awful? I touch my chest as the hurt starts again, the name Miller haunting my thoughts.
As we pull up to the Suicide Club, the bouncer straightens, looking alarmed. He immediately takes out his phone and presses it to his ear. Cas parks and jogs over to him as James and I wait in the SUV. We’re silent. Anxiety and worry twist in my gut, and I don’t know what to do. I almost want another Bloodshot from the club.
“I’m sick of losing,” James says in a low voice. “And I’m sick of running.” He turns to me, and
“What’s going on?” James asks.
“Get your things,” Cas says, storming past us. “We’re leaving.” He pauses in the doorway and turns to look back at me. “I’m sorry about your friend,” he says. “I really am. But a returner is always a threat, and Lacey is gone. It’ll be only a matter of time before The Program comes for the rest of us.”
“Do you think they have Lacey?” I ask, frantic.
“Yes,” Cas says in a quiet voice. “I think Lacey is with The Program. Now get your things and meet me at the van.”
Cas leaves, and I turn to James, waiting for him to tell me Cas is wrong. But James just stares after him. “I tried,” he whispers, mostly to himself. Then he lowers his eyes to meet mine. “I tried to help Lacey, but it wasn’t enough.”
“We have to get her back,” I say, nodding to get James to understand. “We have to find her and get her back.”
James can only mumble his agreement, but he’s not here with me. His eyes look unfocused and he starts out of the room. I follow, the floor cold on my feet, while I search my mind for other places Lacey could be. Maybe she decided to go to the Suicide Club after all. Maybe . . . anything. This can’t be the end.
Guilt attacks my conscience when I think about how Lacey acted just before we left for the Suicide Club. I should have done more, but I thought I’d see her tomorrow. I thought there was more time. I was so stupid. She recalled a memory she wasn’t supposed to—and I just left her.
James is already in the room when I walk in, stuffing clothes into the duffel bag. I grab a pair of jeans and pull them on before crossing to the dresser. I take out the pill, and at that moment James looks over. “If we find Lacey,” I say, my body trembling, “we could give her the pill. Maybe it could help. Maybe it could cure her.”
James lowers his eyes. “It was her memories that hurt her, Sloane. I’m not sure giving her more of them is a good idea.”
I look down at the pill, ready to debate the point, but Cas is yelling from the other room for us to hurry. I shove the pill into my pocket and finish packing up our stuff. Before I worry about what to do with the pill, we have to find Lacey.
Once packed, we head toward the door. James staggers to a stop and picks up the note from the floor to examine it one last time. “What does this mean?” he asks. “Who’s Miller?”
“I don’t know,” I say, moving beside him to read the word again. “But it hurts.”
“I know,” James says, crushing the paper in his fist. “It’s like grief, a pain right here”—he taps his heart—“for someone I don’t know.”
But I can tell what he’s thinking—we must have known Miller.
* * *
It’s twenty minutes later when James is driving the Escalade we’d left Oregon with, Cas following in the white van. We’re picking up Dallas and the others at the Suicide Club, but as we drive, I watch the streets, hoping to catch sight of Lacey wandering or lost. I don’t want to believe she’s gone.
Lacey—snow-blond hair she dyes red just because. Lacey who ate cupcakes for lunch and questioned everything . I could have done more to help her. I could have stayed behind tonight. But she ran away, took her stuff—where would she go? What did she remember that was so awful? I touch my chest as the hurt starts again, the name Miller haunting my thoughts.
As we pull up to the Suicide Club, the bouncer straightens, looking alarmed. He immediately takes out his phone and presses it to his ear. Cas parks and jogs over to him as James and I wait in the SUV. We’re silent. Anxiety and worry twist in my gut, and I don’t know what to do. I almost want another Bloodshot from the club.
“I’m sick of losing,” James says in a low voice. “And I’m sick of running.” He turns to me, and
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