“Got it.” He pulled out the neural wire, and Wyatt was getting ready to shove the floor panel back in place when the door slid open and Vik strode in.

He halted inside the doorway, and Tom could see from the shock on his face that he hadn’t expected to see them. Wyatt sprang to her feet, startled.

“What are you guys doing here?” Vik said.

Tom threw Wyatt a swift glance. She was tense.

“Nothing,” Tom said brusquely. He stooped and shoved the floor panel back on.

“This obviously isn’t nothing,” Vik said, pointing at the floor.

“What are you doing here?” Tom threw back at him.

“I’m meeting Lyla. Her roommate hates me, and we wanted to go somewhere Giuseppe wouldn’t sit and watch us creepily,” Vik said. “Now your turn.”

Tom shook his head. “You don’t want to know.”

“I asked, so yeah, I want to know.”

“Why even bother?” Wyatt flared up. “You were mad when you knew about that other thing. Maybe you don’t want to know about this.”

Vik blinked, his thick eyebrows raised. “You’re talking again.”

“Yeah, she’s talking,” Tom said.

“I’m glad, that’s all,” Vik said. “Can’t I say I’m glad about that?”

“No,” Tom said, and suddenly, he was furious with Vik. He hadn’t even realized it until now, when anger, hot and vicious, ignited inside him. “You don’t get to say that to Wyatt, and you don’t get to ask what we’re up to. You dropped us, not the other way around.”

“It’s not like that,” Vik protested.

“Then what’s it like?”

The door slid open, and Lyla Martin strolled in. They lapsed into silence. For her part, Lyla shook her head and turned to Vik. “No way,” she told him. “We are not sharing the room with them.”

Tom nudged Wyatt, sending her a questioning glance. Was she done?

She nodded.

Tom turned to the standoffish Lyla, and the sheepish Vik. “Don’t worry. We’re outta here.”

Vik didn’t call after them.

SINCE NEARLY FREEZING to death, cold had become Tom’s least favorite thing in the world. When Yosef’s group hooked into the sim, and Tom found himself a Napoleonic soldier standing in the middle of the bitter winter in Russia, he cursed inwardly. His joints began to throb at the first nip of the icy wind, and that’s when Wyatt’s program kicked in and began bombarding him with memories from the other Middles.

The image of the Obsidian Corp. visit from Giuseppe’s point of view filled his vision, and Tom tumbled over into the snow, cold wetness seeping up his arms. He staggered upright, half-blind, and grew aware of the crackling of gunfire as they engaged today’s enemy group, even as his mind filled with images from January.