The window opens and rain flicks inside at us, but Trent throws the laser pen out. For a full minute, I keep my eyes on the road behind us, certain that a cop car will show up at any second. Only after we’ve left Hollywood Boulevard do I sit back in the seat and let myself relax.

I brush damp hair off my face, feeling like a drowned rat. Adam is just as wet, yet somehow still looks put together. His black shirt is soaked through to his skin, showing the outline of his chest and arms. It’s not a bad view at all, but I take off his coat and hand it back to him.

“Thanks.” He doesn’t put it on and instead removes his glasses to wipe water off his face. His hair looks darker when wet, making his blue eyes stand out even more.

Zoe huddles in the corner of the car, her forehead pressed against the window. Chris touches buttons on the table’s screen, and a mini-fridge full of drinks opens underneath. Trent grabs two bags of peanuts and shoves them in his coat pocket.

“Where are we going?” I ask. “Whose address was that?”

“My girlfriend’s place,” Chris says. “I found the address while we were on the train. I need to know if I’m…”

He trails off, but I know what he means. It’s time to find out if we’re all dead.

06:13

06:13

The taxi stops outside a drab two-story apartment building with bars on the windows. It reminds me of places where I’ve lived in similar shady neighborhoods.

“You’d think they could do better in home security by now,” says Adam, eyeing the barred windows as he zips up his jacket.

“You sure you’re okay with this?” Trent asks Chris.

“Yeah.” He shrugs. “Zoe didn’t go crazy, right?”

I’m not one hundred percent sure that’s correct. She’s still huddling against the window of the car, her blue hair hanging in her face. But no, she only went into shock after she heard she was murdered. Aether was wrong about what would happen to us if we found out about our future selves—or they lied to us.

“Zoe, can I get my jacket back?” I ask.

“Oh.” She blinks at me as if in a dream. “Yeah.”

She pulls my coat out of her backpack and hands it to me. It’s nice and dry, and I slip it on and yank up the hood. Like before, Adam and I will be on point, while the others wait behind and watch through our feeds.

The instant we step out of the car, we’re drenched again. “A backpack full of stuff, and they couldn’t pack us an umbrella?” Adam asks as he raises his own hood.