“Well, it seems to me, with no one here to stop us, tonight might be an excellent time for a midnight stroll. We may not even want to come back.”

Even Reid blinks at that.

“You want to break out?” Grace’s voice rises two incredulous octaves.

“Those are such strong words. Let’s call it an excursion. We’ll see where it leads.”

I clear my throat. “Have fun.”

“Oh, no.” Hunter sounds obnoxiously pleased with himself. “Can’t leave witnesses behind. You’re coming with, of course.” He turns to Reid. “Go wake the twins too. I don’t want to think about what happens to them without our protection here.”

Reid flicks him a salute of sorts. “Sure thing.”

“No.” For the first time tonight, fear is apparent in Grace’s voice, and it echoes exactly how I feel. “Do you know will happen to us if we’re caught breaking out? I want a life after this, Hunter. I want a future.”

“And I’m providing you with one,” Hunter says, like it’s entirely reasonable to suggest escaping prison. “If our wonderful zookeepers at Better Futures wanted us to remain here, they would’ve guarded us better. Haven’t we been taught to reach for opportunities? This is one.”

Grace’s nostrils flare. “I won’t stand in your way.”

“You won’t, because you’re coming with.”

“Then let me at least get—”

“No.”

“Hunter…” Grace is tense all over. Her eyes are frantic.

“Yes?” There’s a challenge in Hunter’s voice. He glances at his two remaining bodyguards, who haven’t said a word at all but who are both taller and stronger than Grace and I.

Grace’s resistance drops. “Fuck you.”

“I knew you’d see reason.” He smiles, and all I can think about is the good Catholic girl who would never have been in this situation. Who would have prayed for protection and deliverance from this boy and his dangerous plans.

But I am here. And I can’t pray. Not anymore.

Five

Logan

Being woken up in the middle of the night isn’t part of our routine. I hate it. Having someone else in our room in the middle of the night is even worse. I see the shadow hanging over me, feel the hand on my shoulder, and I want to scream and scramble, but my brain overloads and the only option I have is to tremble.

Don’t touch me.

On the other side of the room, Leah leaps out of bed. The long-sleeved shirt she’s using as a pajama top billows around her. She scowls. “Get out.” She pushes the shadow away and comes to my rescue like she always does. She crouches next to me and holds out a hand.

I stare at it, and my hands twitch and flap. She doesn’t make a move. She doesn’t react to the voice in the background. She waits. And when I reach out and grab her hand, she squeezes. I cling to her. I cling to what is left of me.

Don’t ever let me go.

My breathing eases, and the familiar sights and sounds soothe me. The uncomfortable bed with its ratty mattress. The near constant dripping of the faucet in the corner. The tears in the walls. The torn-up school library book I signed out loud to Leah before we went to sleep.