“I’m not saying they’ll be happy, but they won’t turn us in or anything.” He shrugged expansively. “Look, you guys do what you want. Me, I’ve been on Sanctuary for over a year. I’m going home.”

By mutual and unspoken consent, we fell into step behind him. “Jasper?” said Imani hesitantly. “How did you wind up on Sanctuary?”

A shocked hiss emerged from the emptiness beside me. Mia, presumably, but I still jumped a mile, immediately scanning for aliens. “Stop. Doing. That,” I growled.

Jasper must have heard her too, but he waved his hand. “You mean, am I on Mars’s most wanted list? No. It was an accident. When my power manifested, I accidentally blew out my family’s kitchen. No one got hurt, and insurance covered the damage. Unfortunately, it was a pretty public display. Tourism reported me to Mars Mining, and a week later Omnistellar showed up to take me away.” He swallowed. “My parents tried to resist, but Tourism Rouge made it clear: if they fought, I’d still go to prison, and they’d lose their license to operate on Mars. This hotel is all we have.”

“So, your parents let you go,” said Reed softly, sympathy in his voice. I wondered if they all had a story like that—all except Rune and Cage, who’d gone silent, perhaps remembering their own father. He had used them as virtual slaves until their escape.

But Jasper shook his head. “No, they still would have fought for me. I slipped out in the middle of the night and turned myself in. My family built Spring Veil from nothing. I wasn’t going to be the one to take it away . . . more than I already had, I mean.” He swallowed, slowed for a moment, and then resumed his determined trek. “Trust me when I say they’ll take us in.”

“Do you think they’ll let us shower?” asked Reed hopefully. “Do you think they’ll feed us?”

“There’s always spare food around. And I think they’ll insist on the showers.” Jasper held up a hand in caution as we approached the far gate, then beckoned us forward. We followed him into a shadowed recess. In front of us loomed Spring Veil, a ten-story spectacle of neon lights, rounded chrome edges, and mirrored glass. Somehow it all came together to look impressive, more than the sum of its parts.

We followed Jasper through the passageway, not meeting a single guard or tourist, until we came to a closed metal door, one not nearly as fancy as the rest of the hotel. Jasper visibly steadied himself before knocking.

I glanced at him dubiously. “Maybe no one’s home.”

“They’re in there.” He knocked again, louder this time.

A moment later, the door flew open, almost knocking him over. “Yeah?” demanded a voice. I couldn’t see its owner. “What do you . . . ?”