I can see now what I’d been too distracted to notice before. All hell has broken loose. Similars are fighting guards. Shots are being fired in every direction. I notice Jane Ward dragging herself to an exit and say a silent prayer that she makes it out of here alive. I’m instantly reminded of the cage, and I race back to it to see if anyone’s still inside. We can’t leave anyone behind—even if we die trying to save them. I could never live with myself if I knew that someone’s parent or, God forbid, one of the originals was left here to die.

I scan the room, taking stock, and spot only one figure in the corner, cowering there, still shackled to the metal bars.

It’s Jake Choate.

I am at his side in seconds. Summoning all my strength, I reach for his cuffs and yank them from the bars, not believing I can do it but knowing I have to try. I’m shocked to see that they come loose.

Jake gasps, grabbing my hand and standing, insecurely, on his feet.

“I owe you one,” he moans, meeting my eyes. Then he runs, shakily, out of the room and down the hallway. I follow.

Maude has circled back and is advancing on Gravelle, murder in her eyes as she trains the gun on him.

“Would you kill your guardian so easily, Maude?”

“Would you kill your old classmates so easily? Your son, Oliver? And what about Levi? And Theodora…”

“Theodora shouldn’t have defied me. I warned her, didn’t I? As for everyone else, you know the answer, Maude. Ollie and Levi will be spared, to live here with me. So will you, Jago, and the others. You don’t belong in the outside world, that’s clear.”

“But the DNA parents,” she hisses.

“You heard my brother. We’ll download every last thought to use in a future upgrade. They won’t be dying—far from it. They’ll be some of the first humans to achieve immortality!”

Maude’s expression is one of pure rage. She looks driven. Focused. Like she’s never been more sure of anything in her life.

“That’s a convenient way to justify murder. As for the Similars—we’ll never stay here. We’d rather die.”

And she fires the gun.

I watch, disbelieving, as Gravelle crumples. I don’t wait to find out what happens after that, to see how hurt he is, or if—dare I hope for it?—he’s dead. As I run at top speed down the hall to the stairs, I hear Seymour shouting at the guards to “unleash the Duplicates.”

“Absolutely not,” Gravelle barks, his breathing slowing and his voice growing raspy. “The Duplicates are far too valuable to be used as veritable bullets.”

“They’re blank slates,” I hear Seymour protest. “They’re entirely replaceable.”