Short huffs burst from my lips, echoing through the dark. They’re too loud. Too weak. I grab my sides, keeping my arms close to my body as my crap lungs take their time steadying themselves. “To find you.”

Ryan stares at me through the shadows with an unbearable intensity.

“I need to talk to you. You’re not exactly easy to get ahold of,” I whisper.

“And you thought sneaking around in the middle of the night would be a good idea?” Ryan searches my face before taking off his Blackhawks hat and dropping it on the hood of my mom’s car. He rubs his forehead. “You have three Swarm members watching your house.” He’s quiet, but firm. “One out front. Two on either side of the alley.”

My head turns on instinct, like I can see them through the cement walls.

“You wouldn’t have made it a few steps past your gate,” he says.

I’d only considered the Escalade out front. Three is more than I expected. I imagine light snaking through the darkness and glinting off the metal in Lip Spikes’ mouth. The garage shrinks. The air becomes thick, musty, claustrophobic. I unwind my scarf, slide my hat off, and drop them on the ground.

“They announced the next attack.”

Ryan’s eyes soften like he knows no matter how many people we find to come forward, there’s not enough time to prevent it.

I stretch my torso, expanding my lungs, trying to release the unwanted pressure burning in my chest. “There’s no location.”

Ryan nods. “They’ve never done that before.”

I figured as much. The whole thing is a setup—without any key information, I’ll be walking into a trap, one I might not escape.

“But they’ll tweet it out, won’t they? The night of the attack.”

“I think so.”

“That’s how you know who to hit. The victim is identified just before the Initiators start.”

Ryan dips his chin. The movement is controlled, slight. “They send a pic.”

I envision Navy Pier. Dozens of blue orbs filled the gray, misty day as phones went off just before the attack. I shake away the idea that on Saturday night, it could be my photo on everyone’s screen.

“That’s why you sign in through Twitter. To give whoever’s in charge a list of everyone at each attack.”

Ryan’s eyes narrow. “Where are you going with this?”

Ryan said earlier that not everyone’s forced into the Swarm. “The Initiators aren’t blackmailed. They must volunteer.”

“Initiators are idolized. They’re well taken care of—money, gifts.” His voice is low and contemptuous. “Some kids join for their chance at that.”