Garrett clutches my upper arm and pulls me to a stop. “You look like a thief,” he whispers, his breath tickling my ear. “Ready to prove you are one?”

Beneath his mask, his eyes read dark as night, but in their depths, I detect a spark.

Heat ripples through me as a breeze ruffles my hair, and I’m sure he can see my pulse throbbing in my throat. I swallow. “I think so.”

“No going back now.”

“No.” A sinking feeling drops in my stomach. It hits me like a hurricane. I have a bad feeling about this. If we fail, if we get caught, I’m going to be locked up for a long time… Hoping I’m wrong but knowing I’m not, I grab his arm. “One thing,” I ask, my breath shallow.

“What’s that?” He lowers his face to mine, and my brain buzzes.

“What’s our exit strategy?”

“Ah.” He grins and reaches into his pocket. “Jump.” He flips a carabiner at me.

My trembling hand catches it, and I slip it into one of the zipper compartments on my suit.

“Wonderful.”

Chapter Forty-Three

Chapter Forty-Three

March 20X6, Menlo Park

Clinging to the trees, we make our way to the house, sliding side by side along the glass facade to avoid triggering the motion sensors. My entire body stiff with tension, I want to run screaming into the woods, but I grip Garrett’s shirt so I’ll keep moving. When we arrive at the red front door, we freeze, backs to the wall, as two quick flashes bathe us in light, splaying our shadows across the porch.

Certain we’ve been caught, I feel my lungs seize, but I exhale when I realize it’s Rayelle and Kyran signaling all is clear.

Garrett holds one arm over my chest, pinning me in place, and he must feel my heart thundering. His other gloved hand inches toward the alarm keypad.

“Stop!” I whisper, my hand shooting out of its own volition and grabbing his arm. “Are you sure this is right? It was Teresa’s job—what if she got the code wrong?”

He glares at me, whispering, “What choice do we have?”

“None, I guess.” I bite my lip.

“Do not freak out on me. We have to trust our friends did their jobs.”

“But we’re not supposed to trust—”

“Do we have to talk about this now?”

“No. Go ahead.” My stomach uneasy, I gulp. Deep down, I think my instinct is to trust them, but at the same time, I can’t get past my nerves and I’m second-guessing everything.

“Remember, timing is important. Promise me: no more interruptions.”

“Promise.” I nod, sweat forming on my forehead. “Simon says stop exclamation point,” I remind him.

He punches in the code, and I hold my breath, exhaling only when the keypad turns green. The lock clicks as it unlatches.