This was it. Today I was being hand delivered back to my family. I put that thought first, ahead of the haunting images from yesterday. And if I was being honest, I was glad I was going to be able to walk away from Mitch, at least for now. After yesterday, I was sure he was lost to me forever. I longed for the chance to grieve him out in the woods.

“Here.” The Watchman stood in front of a meeting room. I had been about to turn toward the prep room, but I stopped and walked toward him instead. Through the open door, I was greeted with the unnerving sound of friendly tones coming from evil incarnate.

“Good morning, Agent Francis,” Mellin said, and this time she had a genuine smile on her face. “Let me just say, we are all so pleased with the results of your final test.”

I couldn’t look her in the eye. I burned with shame at the thought of that little girl walking under the shadow of the school’s front gate. So I nodded and hung my head, as if with humility.

“Now, let’s debrief, shall we?” She spun in her chair after indicating that I should also take a seat at the round table. Pulling back the chair, I checked out the others in the room: Mitch, wearing a suit and a nervous edge to his features, a woman with an open laptop, and an older man, hair still wet from the shower, his face grey and freshly shaved, a pair of round gold-framed glasses magnifying his dark eyes. He seemed familiar, but I couldn’t place him. I’d probably passed him in the hallway, or maybe he worked in the kitchen. I sat and folded my hands on the table, trying to be present, trying to breathe and move like a normal person.

“Agent Parisien, if you please?” As Mellin spoke, the woman with the laptop began typing.

“Yes, of course.” He referred to the papers in front of him on the wood surface. “The prospects approached the scenario camp at approximately eleven thirty-five a.m., coming from the northwest…”

And then I recognized him. Oh my god, I recognized him.

“Both prospects engaged me at the fire. I found their initial contact adequate. Though they may have been exhibiting nerves, it didn’t seem suspect, as runners are normally apprehensive when interacting with new individuals.”

It was JP—cleaned up and speaking with less color, but it was him. He read out his notes about the storm and the shelter and the return to the clearing, but I couldn’t focus on the details; my head was spinning too fast, which is hard to keep off your face. And Mellin was watching both Mitch and me closely as JP spoke. I wasn’t sure what the play was—what anyone’s play was—so I stayed still.

But I could breathe better. I felt my vision clear up and my heartbeat steady. It was all a fake; the test was one big fake, and the runners were plants. This meant I hadn’t become a traitor, not really. I hadn’t brought anyone in. Remembering Sunny, I did smile, quick and full. I didn’t care that she was a plant, that she was with the school, not right now, not as long as I wasn’t the cause of her being there.