There we are, up on the screen. All those numbers represent our identities. Me and Tila. Side by side. I wonder what she’s thinking about, just now, in her cell. I wish she’d speak to me, and I don’t understand why she won’t. Nazarin says she chose not to, but what if they aren’t letting her speak to me? Hope flares within me at the thought. Or perhaps she thinks by keeping quiet she can protect and shield me from all this. Does she realize I’m caught right in the thick of it?

Dr. Mata waves her fingers, moving code around so quickly I can barely follow. She clicks her tongue against her teeth. “There. Done.”

I blink. “That’s it?”

“That’s it, buttercup. You’re now officially your sister, Tila Collins.” She takes the electrode off my wrist and rubs the skin with her thumb.

“That’s scary, how easily you could do it.”

“Don’t worry. I’m one of only about three or four people in San Francisco who can do it at all, let alone that quickly. I helped invent VeriChips.”

I rub my thumb over the chip, covered by a thin layer of skin. “Well, thank you,” I say.

“No prob. But remember, when you’re done dipping your toes into danger, come meet me for that drink and I’ll reset your own identity.”

“I will.” I’m not sure if it’s an invite for an evening of chat or a date. I don’t mind either way.

Kim pats me on the shoulder, and then goes over to Nazarin. “You better not get her hurt, Naz. She’s way too innocent for the shit you’re about to throw her into.”

My stomach flutters. He looks at me, then away. “She’ll be fine.”

Kim holds out her arms and he gathers her into a bear hug, lifting her off the ground. She whispers something in his ear, but I can’t hear it.

“Thanks a million, Kim,” Detective Nazarin says. “You ready, Tila?” he asks me.

And now I am Tila, for all intents and purposes. At least legally. But for all that I know my sister better than anyone, I’m not her.

“I’m ready,” I say, though I’m not sure I’ll ever be.

6. Tila

SIX

TILA

The first cracks between us happened long before the surgery, although Taema would never admit it. When we were little, we were two halves of the same coin. We’ve gone so far from where we were. So far from that long-ago innocence.

Life was simpler in the Hearth, before we knew for certain it was a prison.

Supply ships came to Mana’s Hearth every two weeks, and it was always a big deal for us. A glimpse into a world that wasn’t ours.