AS SHIT-TASTIC AS ALCATRAZ 2.0 was, Dee felt empowered by taking control of her day. Back home, she’d been driven to school, picked up from school, and supervised at activities, rarely getting a moment alone. Not that Dee blamed her dad for his overprotectiveness in the wake of what she’d been through, but despite the fact that she was, technically, in prison, Dee’s morning commute to I Scream was the freest she’d felt since before her abduction.

She liked the way the island looked as the fog was slowly beaten away by sunlight and warmth, its wispy tendrils snaking around the duplexes in her neighborhood. Greenery bloomed all around her, flowering grasses and overgrown shrubbery, and the birds—the real ones, not the creepy camera ones—chirping away in the trees were contagiously cheerful. At the end of the Barracks, Dee noticed a sign she’d missed the night before: NINTH STREET. That sounded so normal, so suburban. There were probably Eighth and Tenth Streets as well. Utterly and completely ordinary.

A motor buzzed in the distance, growing louder with each passing second until a drone whizzed overhead, flying off toward the far end of the island. Okay, “normal” except for the ever-present cameras waiting to film her imminent death. That wasn’t ordinary at all.

Ninth Street appeared to be the main commuting route between the Barracks and Main Street, and Dee wasn’t the only person heading into work. A woman about Blair’s age with two-inch-long dark roots growing beneath bleached-blond hair hurried past Dee. She didn’t look up, her eyes fixed to the pavement, and her mouth was screwed up to the side as if she was deep in thought.

Dee involuntarily slowed her pace, allowing some distance between herself and the woman. As with Mara, Dee wondered who she had been convicted of killing. Significant other? Total stranger? Coworker? Several other inmates followed—a rail-thin brunette in a tweed pantsuit, a short blond guy who walked with a slight limp, a man with dreadlocks and a heavy parka. They all raced by her, not even acknowledging her presence. Did they know who she was? Did they want to stay as far away from Cinderella Survivor as was humanly possible? That was just fine with Dee.

“Damn, girl,” a male voice said from close behind her. “Your booty looks fine in that thing.”

Dee glanced over her shoulder. A heavyset man with oily hair trailed behind her, eyeing her backside with a blatant leer. She quickened her pace and said nothing, but instead of taking the hint, he sped up to join her.

“I love that The Postman’s been sending us these fine pieces of ass recently,” he said. Normally, Dee would have kneed him in the balls and run for her life, but Blair’s warning about killing other inmates loomed heavy. Did that apply to maiming other inmates as well?

So Dee ignored him, hoping he’d just give up and leave her alone. No such luck.

“What?” he said, his voice indignant. “I don’t get a thank-you for the compliment?”

She wanted to point out that being called a fine piece of ass was in no way a compliment, but before she could respond, the guy grabbed her by the wrist.

“Think you’re too good for me, huh?” he growled, shoving his face close to hers as he looped his other arm around her back. His breath smelled like dead animal, and his eyes were wild and bloodshot, as if he hadn’t slept in weeks.

Dee tried to wrench away, but the arm around her back was like iron, and the hand on her wrist held her so fiercely she was starting to lose circulation.

“You wanna know what I did to the last bitch who thought she could ignore me?” he said. “That’s what landed me here. Good story. It might just turn you on.”

Panic overwhelmed her. She opened her mouth to scream for help, unsure if anyone would even come to her rescue, when suddenly the guy let her go. Flung her away, in fact, as if he’d discovered that she was toxic to the touch. All the color had drained out of his face, and he glanced nervously at the nearest crow cameras, all five of them pointed directly at Dee and her assailant with their tiny red lights. Without another word, he turned and ran.

Dee stood in the middle of the street, panting, as the guy rounded the corner and disappeared onto Main Street. What in the hell had just happened?

“Penny for your thoughts.”

Dee screamed. Her heart leaped up through her throat and she instinctively swung her fist around toward the voice. Nyles managed to dodge in time to avoid a punch to the face, taking the impact of Dee’s swing on his shoulder instead.

“Oh my God!” Dee cried when she realized who it was. “I’m so sorry.”

“Bloody hell!” Nyles staggered. “That hurt.”

“You shouldn’t have snuck up on me like that.”

“I wasn’t exactly stealthy, you know.” Nyles rotated his shoulder, easing out the impact of Dee’s fist. “Besides, you’d been talking to Rodrigo.”

“We were not talking,” Dee said, her voice still shaky.

“Ah,” Nyles said after a pause. “Yes, I’ve heard the rumors. Did he hurt you?”

“No,” Dee lied.

Then he chuckled to himself. “No wonder he was running away from you like the Devil was chasing him. He must have realized that you’re Cinderella Survivor. He’ll leave you alone from now on.”

Right. She was famous, The Postman’s newest star and the Painiacs’ newest target. None of the other inmates would want that kind of notoriety by association. Except for Nyles, who had diplomatic immunity.

“Are you okay?” Dee asked as Nyles rubbed the spot where she’d punched him.

“Well, I’m still on this island,” Nyles said, “so my answer will be relative.”

Despite her vow not to let herself get attached to anyone on Alcatraz 2.0, Dee smiled. “I’ll assume your snark means that you’re not permanently damaged.”

“Rather.” He grinned. “Not a bad shot, by the way. I bet Ethan could give you some pointers, though.”

“Yeah?” It had never occurred to Dee that she could improve her self-defense. But it probably wouldn’t be a bad idea. “So weird that Alcatraz two-point-oh has a gym.”

“It’s more entertaining to watch us attempt to defend ourselves and then fail utterly. Like Jeremy. He was one of Ethan’s clients. Spent the last month bulking up, apparently in an attempt to swim for it.” Nyles turned to her, eyebrows raised. “Never a good idea, that.”

“So I’ve noticed.”

They walked in silence, Nyles still rubbing his shoulder. As they turned onto Main Street, Dee noticed another sign she’d missed last night, affixed to the streetlamp on the corner, with brightly colored letters: WELCOME TO ALCATRAZ 2.0, YOUR HOME AWAY FROM HOME.

Perched on top of the sign was a crow-shaped camera.

Charming sense of humor, Mr. Postman.

“You said yesterday…” Dee began, her eyes fixed on the crow as they passed.

“Yes?”

She wasn’t sure how much she could trust Nyles, or how much he’d be willing to trust her. But she needed to ask about those cameras. “You said yesterday that nothing happened on this island unless there was a camera around to see it.”

“I did,” he said cheerfully. “Absolutely true. You saw what happened with Jeremy.”

“They left him alone until the drones arrived,” Dee replied. But that wasn’t what she wanted to know. “And you also said that not every spot on the island was covered by cameras.”

Nyles stopped. His eyes darted back and forth as if he was looking for something or someone. “I didn’t say that.”

“You implied it.”

“No,” he said sharply. “I didn’t.”

Why was he being so stubborn? “When we were walking home, you pointed to the softball field and—”

Without warning, Nyles threw his arm around Dee’s waist, pulled her body into his, and kissed her.

Dee wasn’t sure if it was the pure shock of Nyles’s action or the fact that, technically, she’d never kissed a boy before, but instead of pushing him away, she let Nyles kiss her.

When he released her, he was blushing bright crimson.

“What the hell was that?” Dee asked, sounding angrier than she felt.

“Uh, I believe I just kissed you.”

“Yeah, I know.” Her lips still buzzed. “Why?”

Nyles’s blush deepened as he shrugged. “No reason.”

“No reason? I was asking you a simple question about the cameras on the island and then from out of the blue you just—”

Before she knew what was happening, Nyles had enveloped her again. His kiss was stronger this time, more forceful. She was about to knee him in the crotch and run for it, when she heard his voice in her ear.

“Can’t…talk…here,” he whispered in momentary gasps as he broke away from the kiss.

Just as suddenly as he’d seized her, Nyles let her go and stood there, smiling sheepishly. His eyes were apologetic, and Dee realized that the kisses had been a cover, a way to tell her to shut the fuck up without drawing attention to the fact that he was telling her to shut the fuck up. Because, as always, someone was watching. And listening. The kiss was just a fake.

And as the heat rose in her own cheeks, Dee wasn’t quite sure if she was relieved by that or horribly disappointed.