this was your idea.”

“It was a joke and you know it.” June flicked the card away. “How many people did you send that to?”

Marcella ticked them off on her fingers. “The mayor, the chief of police, the district attorney, the director of EON.” She waved her hand.

“And a few hundred of the most powerful—well, formerly most powerful—people in this fine city.”

June shook her head in disbelief. “Drawing this kind of attention is a very bad idea. You’re putting a target on our backs.”

“There’s already one there. Haven’t you noticed? They’re going to come for us, one way or another, June, and if we stay hidden, no one will ever know we were there. So let them see us. Let them see what we can do.” Marcella smiled, that radiant, seductive smile. “Admit it, June.

There’s a part of you that wants to stand in that light. No more running. No more hiding.”

Marcella didn’t understand that June would always be hiding. But the woman was right about one thing.

People had tried to bend June. Tried to break her. Tried to make her feel small.

Perhaps it was time for them to understand how small they were.

June could never be herself, not the self she was before, but she could be someone. She could be seen.

And when EON came calling, well, they wouldn’t catch her.

Which left only one question, really.

Who was she going to wear?

VI

THE LAST MORNING

VII

MERIT

SYDNEY crashed to her hands and knees on the ice.

She tried to get away, but Eli grabbed the collar of her coat, dragging her backward.

“Come now, Sydney,” he said. “Let’s finish what we started.”

She sat up, gasping for air.

Syd didn’t remember falling asleep. She’d spent most of the night tossing and turning, restless. It wasn’t the Kingsley—she’d spent five years getting used to strange new places. It was Victor—or rather, his absence.

The apartment felt wrong, too empty without him.

He had a way of taking up space, and even when he started to move like a ghost, coming and going, he never stayed gone. There was always that thread connecting him to Sydney, and whenever he was out late, she’d lie in bed and feel it spool away beneath her hand, and then draw tight when he returned.

But Victor hadn’t come back last night.

Dumont had been a trap, and Victor had almost been caught in it.

He’d gotten away, and wouldn’t come back until it was safe. He’d gotten away—and Sydney knew he’d had help. She checked her phone again, saw the notes from last night.

Syd: thank you

June: of course ;)