I can’t see straight. My vision keeps making patterns in the bone mosaic, blurring the images together, then separating them. I know around a day and a half has passed since I came down here, because Seb mentioned he was waiting to go for supplies until the hospital staff switched over again. He plans to steal more, to steal equipment to test his theories and add to the inventory he already carted down here.

My plane home will depart in a few hours, without me. I’ll be dropped from medical school and my life; my dreams of beginning again will be over. And Angela will still be classified as dead, so everything I’ve gone through in the last week was for nothing.

“Angela.” My voice is like sandpaper working a block—despite Seb giving us water through a straw every few hours. “What happened to you?”

She inhales a ragged breath. “I tried to warn you. I even wrote it in our language. Typical, you wouldn’t listen to me.” Bitterness coats every word, like we time-traveled back to three years ago, right after our parents died. I’m so confused, seeing her for the first time under these insane circumstances, steps from life and literal death with Chang somewhere in the dark.

Chang. My heart tightens at the thought of my friend, no doubt dead by now, judging by the thump I heard when Seb threw her.

“I got your note,” I say. “But it wasn’t much to go on. Seb was . . . I needed a guide, and—Look, he fooled me. I thought he was your boyfriend, and I fell for it. I’m sorry.” My words are staccato, sharp, not because I’m angry, but because I feel foolish. I trusted someone when your note said not to. I failed us. The thought makes my vision blur. The memory of Seb’s lips on my skin that day in the park arouses new self-loathing.

Angela trembles. She bites the inside of her mouth, exaggerating the contours of her face. When Seb first tied us together and we walked into the light, I was shocked to see the hollow air of her once full cheeks—lucky cheeks, our Chinese grandmother used to call them, and our Scottish grandfather used to pinch them.

“I’m the one who’s sorry,” she whispers. “I got us into this mess. Seb and I went out, but I had no idea he wanted the both of us. I was devastated after Mom and Dad died, and I was so mad at you, even all this time later. If I hadn’t cut you out, I wouldn’t have been so willing to trust him.”