My legs buckle and flounder. The shaking in my chest overtakes my body. I stretch my arm higher, but my lungs are dying out.

Cullen catches me as I fall. He hoists my body over his shoulder and runs.

Katie’s bag thumps against her back.

Bodies collide as people fight to escape. Someone crashes into us. Cullen careens, but he doesn’t stop. He keeps running. The shrieks, wails, hysteria blend together, like one frenzied siren piercing the night.

I gasp for air, clutching my purse, the phone, and Cullen’s tuxedo jacket, as he dodges fleeing people.

The searing in my chest is agonizing, like shards of glass slicing my insides. Still, I lift my head and the phone together. Past hundreds of people scattering in every direction, I zero in on Ryan. The Initiators. They collide. I can’t tell who throws the first punch, but they all fall. All six of them. Another attacker jumps on top.

I hit Cullen’s back. “Let me go!”

They’re going to kill him. They’re going to kill Ryan for protecting me. I thrash against Cullen’s grip, crying and coughing and choking while somewhere Ryan is getting pummeled to his death.

People scream, run, bump into each other, trip over one another. I can’t see Ryan. I’m losing him.

I pound Cullen’s back until he throws me down against the outer Plexiglas frame of a bus stop harder than is necessary. “What are you doing?”

“Where’s Katie?” The breaths are shorter. My lungs are burning. We’re fifty yards from where Ryan is dying.

Cullen grabs my coat, shakes me. “Shut up and run!”

He stands, motions to grab me.

I smack his hands away and fumble for my purse, my inhaler. It bobbles as I force it into my mouth. I jab at the canister, unable to concentrate. Cool mist shoots in my throat. I swallow it. Hold it.

I crane my neck until I see Katie’s backpack fleeing with the crowd. It bounces against her shoulders as she runs away toward safety, escaping the attack.

I have to go back.

I throw my inhaler and the burner phone and all it captured into my purse. As I do, the picture text lights up my screen.

It’s Ryan. In his baseball cap, his gray gaiter, his hoodie.

Ryan was the intended victim.

I look at Cullen, breathe, try to get my lungs functioning. I stand, begging my legs to steady themselves. I grip the outer post. Force myself to turn around. I have to help Ryan. I can’t let the Swarm kill him.

But Cullen catches me. “Dammit, Lia.” He hoists me on his shoulder again. My body’s shaking too hard to resist. Tears flood my face as I picture Ryan at the bottom of the Swarm. Dying.

People are screaming, running for cover all around us.