“Are you sure you’re a Disconnect? I thought pride had no place here. It sounds like you could use a reset. Or maybe you need to make up for last year’s heist? I heard you royally screwed that up.”

His eyes narrow to slits, and an ache forms in my chest. I feel his pain and instantly regret saying it.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about. I lost everything that night. It’s a hurt I hope you never know.”

Swallowing hard, I stare at him. “My hurt runs deeper than you could ever imagine.”

“I highly doubt that.” His words are ice, and tears spring to my eyes.

“You don’t know anything about my hurt,” I say, my voice cracking. “Don’t pretend to.”

We face off, oddly one-upping each other in heartache, though it’s like our misery is one and the same. I sense he gets me on a level nobody else does—or ever has.

“Why are you telling me this?” I finally ask.

“I don’t know.”

He searches my face, and my heart thuds. I’m being drawn into him, like we’re connected by some invisible tie that binds us together and is wrapping around us, tighter and tighter. Then I remember what Allard said about his power of attraction—that he attracts what he wants to use—and snap out of my daze.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” I ask. “I’m sure Chloe would love to play with your lock.”

I wait for a reaction, but he doesn’t flinch. His eyes remain steady, holding mine. “Just like I thought…” he says. Breaking our connection, he shakes his head and turns to leave.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, chilled by the distance between us.

“It means absolutely nothing,” he replies without looking back.

Unwilling to let him have the last word, I scramble for a comeback, but before I respond he glances over his shoulder, his eyes full of mischief, like the hurt never happened.

“So, you think I’m cute?”

“Shut up, Garrett.”

He grins. “See you around, Ellie.”

His laughter lingers long after he’s left me.

Chapter Twelve

November 20X5, Keystone

I stand wedged between Rayelle and Stewart, waiting my turn to enter the hill that houses the obstacle course bunker. Up ahead, Liam disappears inside, and the line inches forward.

“This might take a while.” Stewart clicks start on his stopwatch. He’s an unofficial timekeeper. “Unless he immediately gets disqualified, of course.”

“How do you know your times are accurate?” Sophia asks.

“This was used by the Stopwatch Gang during their bank robberies. They could rob a bank in two minutes or less. I borrowed it from the Crypt,” Stewart says. “Even though it’s over seventy years old, it still keeps perfect time. They don’t make ’em like this anymore.”

“I don’t mean the stopwatch,” Sophia says, rolling her eyes. Today, her face is powdered white, and her cheeks are crimson. Gems glitter across half her forehead, cascading like raindrops over the left side of her face. “I mean, we don’t see anyone exit the bunker, so how do you know they’re done?”