Miranda’s headache has gotten worse as her body falls deeper into withdrawal. It’s like she’s in a cartoon, like her skull’s pulsing with every beat of her heart. Javier is lying with his arm over his eyes. In the corner, Cole and Grace are talking quietly. Even if they are trading their favorite conspiracy theories, Miranda’s just glad Grace has stopped crying. Amina is hunched over her phone, her thumbs flickering.

So is Miranda. She’s answered messages from her friends. And from her mom, who’s freaking out. Miranda’s been angry at her for so long, but now that’s melted away. For the last half hour, they’ve been texting variations of “I love you” back and forth. Miranda figures if those end up being her last words, they’re pretty good ones.

She’s also been messaging with Parker. What happened a few weeks ago was both their fault. Each of them thinking they were using the other to get what they wanted. Leaving both of them with less than when they started. Afterward, Miranda tried to tell herself it had been worth it. And when she swallowed that next yellow pill, it even felt kind of true. Still, until today she has hated both herself and Parker for what happened.

Coming so close to death has helped her to let go. To forgive. To be thankful that, at least as of right now, she and the others hiding are all still alive.

And SWAT will come soon. She holds tight to the thought.

Can’t wait to get out of here, she texts Parker.

His reply comes a second later. So you can forget?

No. So I can remember.

“Who are you texting?” Javier asks. He’s taken off his apron and rolled it up and is now using it as a pillow.

“My friend Parker.” She points in the direction she thinks he is. “He’s in the Van Duyn workroom with his sister. The killers bike-locked the doors shut. He says they pulled some kind of metal gate across the open end of the hall and trapped everyone.”

Amina blows air through pursed lips. “I saw some guy in a hard hat installing that folding gate last week. I didn’t even wonder why.”

“You can do pretty much anything if you look official,” Cole says. “If you wear a lanyard and carry a clipboard, no one asks too many questions.”

A text from Matthew pops up. In her mind’s eye, Miranda sees him: sleepy blue eyes, long dark hair caught up in a man bun, a trace of stubble on his jaw. When he holds her in his muscled arms, he’s tall enough that she can tuck her head under his chin. She loves that feeling.

Where r u babe?

She was supposed to be at his apartment about a half hour ago.

Hiding in Fairgate. OK so far.

???