I watch as he picks up something in the parking lot, chucks it at a light post. A moment later he comes striding back.

“You know your story sounds a lot like the one Rolan told me,” I say.

“Listen.” He drops his head, shakes it, as though second-guessing what he’s about to say. “Rolan. Was lying. Because he wants what you knew. Very badly. Acting like your buddy was the only chance he had of getting it. By the way? I don’t know what story he told you, but no Progeny would knowingly keep a photo of another Progeny on their phone. Not in a million years.” He shakes his head. “And right now, the more I tell you, the more dangerous it is for you—and everyone you know.”

I don’t tell Luka that Rolan never claimed to be a Progeny. Somehow I have a feeling he’ll tell me the same thing Ivan did: There’s no such thing as Watchers.

“I don’t know anyone,” I say and realize just how true that is. As unsavory as they might be, the introduction of Luka and Rolan in the last few days has increased the grand sum of my dubious social circle to two. Four, if you count the nonexistent Clare and Madge at the Fly Shop, though it doesn’t look like we’ll be socializing much anymore. And I realize now there is no one I trust.

I wonder if I have ever felt so alone.

“You did,” he says, biting out the words. “You did know people. You had access to a lot of information from your mother.”

“What do you know about my mother?”

“She was a radical. Infamous in Progeny and Scion circles alike. She was determined to find a way to end it. Which made her dangerous. To everyone.”

My eyes narrow. “You said you didn’t know anything.”

“I said I didn’t know names. But anyone remotely plugged in knew hers.”

“What do you mean?”

“She was at the front of a movement among Progeny who’d rather die than live in secrecy one more generation.”

“That’s why they’re after me?”

“They’re after you because you’re alive. But even more because of who you are and what you used to know. Your mom prepared for the day a hunter caught up to her—and protected a lot of people and information in the process. Information you acquired.”

“You’re full of crap.”

“Am I? Weren’t you doing the same thing when you had your memory erased? Creating a fail-safe in case that day came? That’s exactly what you did! But you did it better.”

“On what planet is this better?” I demand. “Whatever she knew, the hunters have it now! So what was the point?”

“Whatever you learned from her, you found more. You went further. Even before we were friends, you—”