Lynell grunts and pushes herself up, trying desperately to ignore the pain in her arms. She twists her arm and sees blood dripping. When a drop splashes on the dirty pavement, it seems as if her heart has already been claimed by Price. She can feel his fist threatening to crush it.

Lynell stumbles back when someone runs into her. “Get out of the way, bit—” The shout is cut short when Lynell twists and slaps the man who was yelling at her. He blinks and scowls. His hands are curling into fists and his face turns red. Before he gets a chance to yell more or hit back, Lynell starts running.

She runs for six blocks before descending the steps to the subway. Her hands shake as she pulls her card out of her pocket and scans it so the doors will let her through.

As soon as she reaches her train, she checks her watch. The train should arrive in seven minutes, which feels like enough time for Price to kill her three times over.

She glances around, trying to decipher each face to see if one of them could be the man planning to kill her. She looks for a gray T-shirt or recognition in the eyes of the many men crowding the underground train station.

She hides between a bench and a snack dispensary machine behind an exceptionally plump woman and lowers her head, looking at her feet, hoping to remain unnoticed.

As soon as the train arrives, she joins the crowd of people climbing on, not flinching at the skin-to-skin contact and putrid smells. She leans her head against one of the poles and takes several deep breaths to calm her racing heart.

It takes twelve minutes to arrive at her station. She stares at her watch, feeling the small hands mocking her as they tick away the seconds of her life.

“If someone is Registered, it’s for a reason. It’s never simply revenge or anger. The Registration is not subject to the fleeting quality of human emotions,” her father said once. Well, according to her mom, anyway.

What would he say if he were here, watching Lynell run from a man who’d just Registered her? Who’d just promised the system that in fourteen days, Lynell Mize will be dead.

“Washington Station,” the robotic voice shouts through the carriages.

Lynell leaves sweat behind on the pole when she exits the train. She looks both ways, making eye contact with no one. Her heartbeat continues to speed up as she takes the steps three at a time and exits the underground station. Her apartment is still a five-minute walk away, but she runs and makes it in two.

Price probably knows where she lives. He will have done his homework and likely knows everything about Lynell. He must know that her father was Registered twenty years ago. Must know that her mom married Alan a year later. Knows that she . . .

“SHIT!” Lynell shouts, despite her desire to stay unnoticed. Several people look her way and she smiles softly. “Sorry,” she says, fishing her key out of her pocket and sliding it into the lock.