But Raffe has made it all too clear that this – whatever this is that we may or may not have between us – is a nonstarter. He’s made it clear that he’s leaving. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that trying to make someone stay with you when he doesn’t want to is a recipe for heartbreak. Just ask my mom.

I clench my teeth. I can do it. So what if it’s utterly creepy to walk into the arms of a nightmare creature with a needle-sharp stinger that almost killed you? A girl’s gotta have some scrap of pride, even in the World After.

Raffe watches me as if reading my thoughts. Then he looks at the locusts. His lip curls as he assesses them, his eyes scanning from their thick legs to their insectile torsos to their iridescent wings. He looks at the curled stingers last.

He shakes his head. ‘Those wings are so flimsy I wouldn’t trust them to carry you. And those overgrown nails – you’d catch an infection if they scratched you. You can ride one when they improve on the design.’ He steps forward and, in one smooth motion, lifts me into his firm embrace. ‘Until then, you’re stuck with me being your air taxi.’

He takes flight before I can argue.

There’s a wind blowing from the bay, and it’s pointless to try to hold a conversation. So I relax my muscles and tuck my face into the curve of his neck. Maybe for the last time, I let his warm body shelter me.

As the sun sets, I catch a few fire glows below us, probably hidden campfires that got out of control. They look like tiny candles in a shadowy landmass.

We have to land four times on the way south to avoid being seen by angels. I’ve never seen so many in the air before. Raffe tenses every time we spot the flying formations.

Something serious is going on with his people, but he can’t get anywhere close to them, much less get involved. With every passing minute, I can feel his urgency to get his feathered wings reattached so he can dive back into his world.

I try not to think about what will happen in my world when he does.

Eventually, we fly over the Resistance headquarters – otherwise known as Paly High. It sits like every other deserted group of buildings, with no indication that it’s anything special.

In the parking lot, every car faces the street so it won’t have to do a U-turn to get out. Assuming Obi’s escape plan has been executed properly, the cars are gassed and ready to go, with keys in the ignition.