I think it only makes him more dangerous.

“If it isn’t my favorite sisters in this building.” He steps toward us, and I take a step back. It’s habit. It’s instinct when faced with a predator. His mask slips for a second, before he throws an arm over Leah’s shoulder, and I’m the only one who sees that she cringes.

“Are you ready for the wide, open outside?” he asks.

I’m not, but thankfully it’s not like he expects me to answer him.

“Always!” Leah plasters on a smile, while Emerson frowns. I’m glad I’m not the only one who’s uncertain about this.

“Fine, whatever, let’s do this,” Grace says. “Since it’s not like we have a choice or whatever.” Before anyone can stop her, she pushes open the door, and we all suck in a deep breath.

The door gives.

It creaks and it’s heavy and the only thing I can think about is how definitive it sounded when it closed behind us—but now it’s opening. Slowly. Until Hunter snaps his fingers and three of the boys on his crew jump forward to push, and the door swings open wide.

It isn’t quite as simple as one door. Behind it is a small registration desk, for visitors and lawyers to announce themselves before they’re guided to the reception area, where tall windows let in more sky than we ever see inside. But this door is the one that locks us in. Or did, at least.

Now it’s open. No one on the other side can stop us.

“So now what?” Emerson asks, eyes wide open, fists clenched.

“Do you have a home to go to, new kid?” Hunter asks, not unkindly.

Emerson shakes their head.

“In that case, the first step is out of this godforsaken place, and you can figure out the rest from there.” With that, Hunter steps through, dragging Leah with him. I follow without hesitation, because I always have, and so does everyone else. All ten of us.

Hunter quickens his pace. Reid follows. Before long, we’re all running, like we’re in a movie. Even me, though I’m not sure what we’ll find outside. Past the metal detectors. Out of the other set of doors.

Outside.

Outside.

Outside.

There’s a world outside. We all stop and breathe because we haven’t seen it in weeks or months or even years.

Hope Juvenile Treatment Center lies amid a small clearing. A piece of elevated grasslands between the wild oak and hickory trees and mountain ranges of the Ozarks. It could be a wilderness camp too, cut off from all kinds of civilization, surrounded by endless world.

We run out. Into the cold night. Off the dirt road that leads to Hope. Onto the grass that’s soft underneath our feet. I stumble. I let myself fall, hands first, to feel it. I’m not the only one either. Meanwhile, Emerson has dropped to their knees and is clutching their stomach like they’re about to throw up. Grace stands outside the door, and she’s staring up at the stars—the stars. An owl hoots in one of the trees, and Maverick whoops loudly in response.