“We haven’t been introduced,” Eliza said. “My name is Eliza. And that there is Donovan.”

Dorothy turned slightly and saw a shadowy shape that she could only assume was Donovan wrestling with the shadowy shape she thought was Zora.

“Can’t say it’s nice to meet you,” Zora breathed, and Dorothy could picture her clenched teeth and the tip of a smile on her lips. She didn’t sound scared but, then, Zora never sounded scared.

A creak of the dock and Mac separated from the shadows. Dorothy squinted. It looked like five . . . no six more Cirkus Freaks surrounded him.

She nearly burst forward right then, to hell with time-travel logic. The only thing that stopped her was the knowledge that, even with her help, it would be nine against three. They were outnumbered.

Dorothy swallowed, hard, and stayed hidden. She’d done plenty of terrible things in her lifetime and none of them kept her awake at night. But this one lodged itself beneath her rib cage, making it difficult for her to breathe. She knew in that moment that she would remember, forever, how she’d hidden in the shadows and done nothing while Ash was taken.

She curled her hands into fists, damning herself for being unable to help, to stop this.

“Boom,” Eliza whispered into Ash’s ear, laughing.

Dorothy saw Eliza’s final blow coming and flinched a second before it landed. She heard something crack—bone. Ash hit the docks, unconscious. Zora released an angry scream of rage that cut off in a sound like flesh hitting flesh. There was another thud, and Dorothy knew that Donovan must’ve knocked her out as well. The Freaks left her where she was, grabbed Ash by the arms, and dragged him off the dock.

Dorothy pressed a fist to her mouth to keep from screaming. In that moment, she felt like she was back home, performing another of her mother’s confidence games. It was as though she were reciting lines she hadn’t come up with, acting out a scene instead of making her own choices, all of it an elaborate performance she had no real control over.

More, she thought, remembering her old wish, the reason she’d run away from home in the first place. She’d wanted more than a half-life, more than a fake marriage, more than a long con. But this . . . this was just more of the same.

She closed her eyes, tears gathering below the lids. She hated that there were things she still couldn’t change, hated that the only real power she had was in her own mind.

She hated time travel.

18

Dorothy made sure Zora was still breathing, and then she dragged her away from the edge of the dock.

“Sorry to leave you like this,” she muttered, pushing one of Zora’s braids off her face. “But you’re not going to be happy to see me when you wake up, anyway.”