He was the one who’d convinced her, through his words and actions, that Partials were just as intelligent, just as empathic, just as angry and fractured, just as . . . human, really. They had different biology, but their thoughts and feelings were almost identical. She herself was the greatest proof of that: She had felt human for years—she still felt human. What the hell was she? In a sudden rush she felt the full weight of every mile she’d crossed from East Meadow to here, every river that separated her from her friends, every mountain that rose up to keep them apart. She felt tears flood her eyes, wondering what she was doing, why she was here, what she was trying to change. Her friends, her sisters, Marcus, all together, it had all been so happy and simple. Their lives weren’t perfect, but they were lives. They were happy. She sat on the floor, sobbing and alone.

The generator stopped humming, and the room went suddenly dark.

She heard boots pounding on the floor, and Afa’s sudden cry of alarm: “I lost it!” She looked up, saw the soft glow from his screen peeking through the gaps between the computer towers, and opened her mouth to ask what had happened.

But before she could, a burst of gunfire tore through the air, putting out the light with a tinkling shatter of glass. Kira dropped to the ground, crouching behind a computer tower.

The computer rooms in the data center were sealed from all outside interference; there were no windows, which meant that without the lights it had become nearly pitch-black. Random snippets of link data assaulted Kira, always easier to detect in a high-stress situation: the sudden shock of being ambushed, the confusion of not knowing where the attack was coming from, the alarm of a wounded comrade. Kira tried to piece it together: They’d been attacked somehow, by someone incredibly capable, but who? They hadn’t seen any sign that Chicago was occupied. Was there some group hiding in there? Or had they been followed? By humans or Partials?