My eyes widen as I register the face of the man standing in front of me. His broad frame fills the doorway, casting a shadow of intimidation across the room. The fluorescent light reflects off his hair, making the peppered gray strands stand out amidst the black. His forehead shines where the glare hits the skin just below his receding hairline.

“Wynter.” Nolan’s voice enters my ears. “This is—”

“Wren Bilken,” I breathe.

I’m only vaguely aware of Nolan’s response because I’m too consumed by the inexplicable memory exploding inside my brain.

A chain reaction follows. The whisper of his name sets the gears in motion, causing my thoughts to go into overdrive and bombard me with a number of images. They dart through my head in quick succession, forcing me to remember.

I see the compound Ezra spoke of as well as the tunnel system spanning beneath the Heart. Beams of light flash along rounded walls, and the sound of waterlogged steps bounce off every surface, echoing through the passage like torrential rain. The physical recollection takes hold of me, bringing me back to that moment.

I see Ezra and Jenner.

I even see myself.

As the images race past, I also see the Magistrate’s Building, along with the string of events that transpired there that night. I remember all of it. Every detail. Every moment.

Above all, I remember Rai.

The memory weighs heavily on my heart, threatening to crush me. My lungs contract until it feels like I can’t breathe, and my eyes begin to burn as if hot pokers are stabbing into them—a much deserved punishment for forgetting her.

I try to move.

I try to breathe.

I try to think.

But I can’t.

All I can see is Rai, hovering over me like a ghost.

Throughout my descent into madness, Nolan prattles on in the background. His words are muffled—a mere fog of sound that I’m deaf to.

Once the memories cease their relentless re-enactment, I’m able to focus on my surroundings. Lifting my eyes, I fix my gaze on Bilken. His expression is drawn and void of emotion.

For that, I hate him even more.

“She’s dead because of you.” I spit out the words between clenched teeth, straining my jaw in an effort to maintain my composure.

My body trembles as the battle raging inside of me claws its way to the surface, struggling to break free with every racing beat of my heart. Loathing pumps through my veins, feeding the internal conflict.

Nolan’s voice dissipates the instant I speak. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice his fingers splay out, and taking a hesitant step forward, he raises his hands. The gesture is slow and guarded as if he hopes it will calm me down.

It has the opposite effect.

“Wynter . . . .”

I ignore him, keeping my eyes locked on Bilken, who finally decides to enter the conversation. His words fully break my already damaged heart.

“I assume you’re referring to Raina Dorne.”

My hands grip the arms of the metal chair. “Don’t you dare say her name.” The animal locked within me thrashes in a wild fit, desperate to rip out this man’s throat with her bare teeth.

Bilken steps into the room, but keeps his distance, leaving a wide berth between us. As I watch him, my rage builds until I can barely retain my hold on it. My control slackens further when I glimpse his face. Of all the expressions he could display at this moment, the one he chooses to wear is boredom.

“I believe your anger is misdirected,” he drawls.

Everything I’ve been suppressing—not only my memories but the many emotions I’ve buried over the years—now comes to a head. Like stacking one object on top of another, the bottom of the pile can no longer bear the weight, causing everything to tumble down in a landslide of self-destruction.

I’ve subdued the anger, guilt, and regret for so long, and now they all rush out at once, hitting me full force.

“You were the one who set that trap for us!” I cry. “The trap that got her killed!”

The heat from my tears burns my cheeks like a trail of fire. Bilken stares back at me, but his stony expression gives nothing away of his own feelings. Or his intentions.

Maybe because he doesn’t have any. Maybe he’s no different than Richter . . . or me. We’re all just puppets who have been taken in and drained by the State—robbed of the very essence that makes us human until we’re incapable of feeling anything that even resembles remorse.

This is what the State does to the people who are loyal to it.

“Yet, I wasn’t the one who pulled the trigger,” he counters.

My nostrils flare as my infuriation grows. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t it?” He looks at me with feigned surprise, and the distance between us shrinks as he takes another step forward. “I think the truth is that you’re angry with yourself. After all, you’ve spent the last two years completely submissive to the one person actually responsible for your friend’s death.”

His callous statement pushes me over the edge. I no longer care about maintaining control or Nolan’s unspoken threat about what will happen if I don’t behave.

I only care about making Bilken pay for what he’s done.

Narrowing my eyes, I concentrate on his throat and muse over how it would feel to snap his neck. However, at the same exact instant the thought crosses my mind, I hear Rai’s voice. Speaking to me.

Reminding me.

“Everyone here has lost someone or something. That’s why we fight. So our losses don’t have to be for nothing.”

Hesitation delays my wrath as every molecule in my body hones in on those words. Rai wouldn’t want this. She wouldn’t want me to become what they had all vowed to fight against.

The trouble is that it’s too late for that. I’m already a monster. Already a murderer.

What would Rai think if she could see me now?

My indecision holds me back, but the emotions coursing through me are much harder to contain. A powerful pressure builds up in my chest, screaming to escape.

Bilken peers down at me as a smirk crosses his face. It seems as if he wants me to attack him—to show them what I can do. Despite what he said before, I know Nolan wants that too. Or, at the very least, he has a good reason for risking it.

Why else would he bring Bilken here?

Why else would he dangle this insult in front of me?

This is a test, I realize.

Well, I refuse to give into them. I refuse to be a pawn just like I was for Dr. Richter.

Making up my mind, I take the steps to suppress my anger, but with the emotions returning to the empty shell I used to be, it becomes clear even the collar can only do so much. This power wants to be seen, and I’m not sure there’s a damn thing anyone can do to stop it. Myself included.

A small release of energy spills out of my body, trickling from my skin like sweat leaving my pores. Nolan’s voice tears through the silence as the walls and ceiling begin to crack.

“Enough!” he shouts.

The air catches in my lungs, and the distraction of his intervention helps to contain the feelings overwhelming me. Closing my eyes, I spend the next several seconds focusing only on my breathing. I count backward from ten, just as I have so many times in the past.

“How odd,” Bilken grunts. “All the reports were quite adamant that you could control it.”

My eyes flash open, settling back on his face as a menacing smile pinches the corners of my lips. “Oh, I am controlling it.” I lean forward in my seat until the shackles creak in protest. “Trust me, if I wasn’t, you would already be dead.”

Nolan steps between us. Raising his arms, he presses his palm against Bilken’s chest. “That’s enough for now,” he warns. “You’d better step outside before things get out of hand.”

With a condescending nod of his head, Bilken turns to leave without speaking a single word. He passes through the open doorway, and I watch his fingers grip the steel slab, pulling it closed behind him. Just before the metal locks back into place, he glances over his shoulder to meet my gaze.

That one look is almost enough to provoke me.

Swallowing my pride, I turn my attention toward Nolan as he returns to the seat in front of me. The rage detonates from my lungs before he even has the chance to sit.

“Why is he here?” I scream. “PHOENIX . . . you’re supposed to be the good guys, aren’t you? So, what are you doing joining up with someone like him?”

As those words leave my mouth, I hear a voice—somewhere in the recesses of my distorted memories—spewing a similar sentiment. I hear myself trying to convince someone that Bilken can’t be trusted.

As the recollection finds form, I realize this happened prior to the night Rai died.

A huff of exasperation spills from my lips. None of this makes sense. Why would Bilken turn against the State?

What could he possibly gain from such betrayal?

“I understand how confusing this must be for you,” Nolan murmurs. “Not to mention distressing. If you must know, it was never Wren’s intention for anyone to die that day. Rai was . . . an unfortunate casualty.”

An unfortunate casualty?

I inhale a deep breath to stop myself from laughing. “So, what were his intentions?” I ask in a sour voice.

Nolan reclines in his chair. Tilting his chin, he stares at me for a long, drawn-out moment before answering.

“To leave a clue. Something that would express his wish to join PHOENIX. He couldn’t contact us without being discovered, and my guess is that he knew he would only be desirable to our organization as an informant. He’s a good ally to have, but even his usefulness has its limits.”

A breath of bewilderment climbs up my throat.

Nolan crosses one leg over the other before continuing. “With that in mind, he proposed a plan to the State. He would act as the contact needed to set up a trap to lure in PHOENIX. And in turn, you. He knew Richter would never seek to harm his prized subject and figured, worst case scenario, you would just be taken back to the DSD if things went downhill, which turned out to be an inevitability anyway.”

After everything that happened that night, he expects me to believe Bilken’s offer for aid was genuine? I’m not sure I buy it, especially since we never found any evidence to suggest what he’s saying is true.

“Did you know about this?” I whisper. “Or did you think it was a trap?”

“I was acquainted with Wren back in the pre-State days. When the world changed, and I made the choice to move underground, I told him all he had to do was say so if he ever decided he wanted to help us.” His eyes seem to glisten with the memory.

“The trouble was, he couldn’t send us a direct message. If he tried, the transmission would’ve been tracked back to both of us, and I’m sure you know what the result of that would’ve been.”

As he cocks an eyebrow at me, I grasp the implication behind his words.

“Execution,” I breathe.

Clearing his throat, he carries on. “So, he put it out there in a place he thought PHOENIX might be watching. We keep a firm eye on Enforcer unit rotations to make our movements throughout the Heart easier. They don’t tend to monitor the tunnel system, but better safe than sorry.” Shaking his head, he lets out a quiet laugh. “He attached the message right in the middle of their weekly schedule. Kind of hard to miss, don’t you think? Anyway, that was his way of telling me he was ready to do things my way. With his position in the State and the information he had access to, I wasn’t willing to refuse that offer.”

“So, you sent us there, knowing the risk.”

A flash of anger burns in his eyes. “It was the only way to know for sure and to make the initial move to set up communication the State couldn’t track.” Taking a deep breath, he adds in a calmer voice, “Rai’s death made that part harder but not impossible.”

My body tenses at the mention of Rai. The sound of her name on his tongue is vile as if the mere whisper of it is taboo in some way. A shudder runs along my spine, but I try to ignore it, telling myself to concentrate on determining the truth.

“What was the clue?” I press.

“Your file,” he answers. “Well, more specifically, the military order he included with it.”

My file? What could that have possibly told them? I begin to protest, but Nolan cuts me off.

“State-issued computers are equipped with the highest form of security. Only someone truly gifted could hack their systems.”

Someone like Rai, you mean, I’m tempted to say to him.

His voice resounds in my ears, bringing a rush of doubt with it.

“Didn’t you find it odd that his computer wasn’t at least password protected?”

I consider him for a moment. Truthfully, none of this had even occurred to me until now. Then again, I wasn’t the one who accessed the computer that night. Ezra was.

Still, something doesn’t add up.

“Richter knew that was there,” I point out. “Besides, how would that have proven anything to PHOENIX?”

Nolan rolls his eyes.

“Richter overlooked one thing when he agreed to set that trap. Your doctor has an . . . interesting fascination with playing his best cards all at once. Because of that, he failed to see what Bilken hoped we would.”

“Which was what exactly?”

One corner of his lips twitch, the gloating smile fighting to break through.

“The fact that one simple piece of information in that order showed us how we can defeat the State,” he sneers.

I don’t understand. I read that order. In fact, I understood more of it than Ezra did. Everything the report detailed was about how I would be beneficial to the State—it made no mention of weaknesses. Even if it did, I doubt Dr. Richter would’ve missed something like that. He wouldn’t allow such important intel to fall into the enemy’s hands.

I shake my head in denial. “He’s smarter than you think he is. If there was something like that in there, I can guarantee he knows about it.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” His tone is indifferent. “Either way, he agreed to Wren’s plan. As a result, he put the pieces in place that have allowed the tables to turn.”

Everything he’s said over the past few minutes coalesces in a jumbled knot in my head. It presses against the forefront of my brain, but no matter which way I view it, there’s still too much that doesn’t add up.

“I don’t understand,” I whisper. “How would he benefit from agreeing to that?”

Nolan shifts position, and for the first time, he looks at me with an expression of pity.

“It allowed him access to you, and gave him the opportunity to use the promise of a cure to lure you back. After all, that is why you left, isn’t it?”

My eyes widen.

The promise of a cure.

A cure . . .

“A cure is the only hope I have to stop this and to keep you all alive.”

I remember saying those words. I remember feeling them in the very core of my being and believing them to be true.

Suddenly, the one question that’s been haunting me resolves itself in a single breath. The answer falls at my feet as if surrendering to me.

I left because Dr. Richter promised me a cure, and because I was afraid that, if I didn’t, my condition would kill everyone I had come to care about.

Jenner.

Ezra.

My fingers flex, aching to touch my collar, but the shackles prevent me from moving. My entire body melts into the chair as a thick lump rises like bile in my throat. I can feel Richter’s lie there, choking me a little bit more with each breath. Knowing this isn’t even the first time I’ve learned this makes the sensation worse.

“You know,” Nolan croons, interrupting my thoughts, “you actually did us a favor by returning to the DSD.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” I snap.

His fingertips press together as he forms a pyramid with his hands in front of his chest. A taunting smile plays on his lips. “Without you, the State has no way of anticipating attacks. They’ve spent a lot of time and energy disconnecting themselves from the rest of the world and have made a fair number of enemies who may wish to use that knowledge to their advantage. Enemies they wouldn’t have if it wasn’t for you.”

Everything he’s been saying finally makes sense to me. Bilken’s defection. My file. The military order.

My extraction.

Everything has finally fallen into place.

“You want them to be attacked,” I realize. “That’s why you relocated Outside.” My jaw drops in horror as the words tear from my lungs.

I feel sick. The notion that I’m nothing more than a pawn—a playing piece being shuffled between two opposing sides—is enough to make me want to bury myself in a hole and never resurface. No matter what I do, no matter what steps I take to avoid it, I’m always playing right into somebody’s hand.

Playing the role I was destined for.

Why did I have to develop this disease? Why did this have to happen to me? I played by the rules. I always did what I was told. Yet, here I am—caught in the middle of a war I never asked for.

A war that can only end one way.

“Fear can oppress a population, but it can also turn that same populace against the hand that feeds it.” Nolan pauses for a moment, and as he does, his eyes darken. “The people will never answer to PHOENIX unless they see that the State can no longer protect them.”

“And you can?” I ask.

“We can offer them an alternative, and negotiate peace terms with those who wish to see the State eradicated.”

Peace? I wonder.

If only it was that easy.

“Is that PHOENIX’s goal, then? To lead?” An unwilling huff of laughter accompanies my words.

His eyes narrow. “I can see the judgment in your gaze, but PHOENIX is not the first, and it won’t be the last to seek power. We have ideals and hopes that we wish to see fulfilled, and we’re convinced our ability to lead far surpasses the State’s. Besides,” he says, “if you rise up against something, you have to be prepared to take its place.”

I admire his last sentiment. Or I would if I wasn’t convinced that it’s a front—another mask to conceal the reality I’m sure is far more menacing.

In a bid to see under that mask, I press him further. “If you wanted power, why didn’t you just take it? You have hundreds of sects in the Heart alone.”

His hands squeeze into fists as a sudden anger reddens his face. “Because, believe it or not, I don’t wish to lead through fear. If we seized control, we would be no better than the State. From what I know of history, regimes that oppress don’t last in the long run. They are always overthrown.” Suppressing his heated emotions, he adds, “This was the only way to get the people on our side.”

For the first time, I feel like I’m beginning to understand the inner workings of what I’m involved with. When all is said and done, only one question remains.

“I understand why you extracted me. With me gone, the State is vulnerable. I get that,” I breathe, staring back at him with every ounce of intimidation I can muster. “But why wait two years to put this plan in motion?”

A devilish smirk pulls at his lips. “I was wondering when you’d get around to asking me that.”

I say nothing as I wait for an answer I might never receive. Nolan deliberates for a moment before ending my torment.

“Watching the State make enemies was one thing, but hearing of how they would completely destroy them was another.” When he sees my blank expression, he says, “I don’t need to tell you how special you are. I wonder if Dr. Richter ever told you how special.”

“Stop being cryptic and cut to the chase,” I growl.

“Very well.” His smile broadens. “What do you know about your blood?”

My stomach twists as I’m brought back to my time at the DSD. I relive everything Dr. Richter ever said to me, especially concerning the unique blood pumping through my veins.

“It evolved,” I murmur. “It’s an entirely new blood type that Richter calls Type X. He said I’m the only person who has it and that it makes me one of a kind.”

Nolan nods his head in feverish repetition. “What he said is true. For now, at least.”

I reel back, bemused by his statement. He continues before I can press him about it.

“What would you say if I told you that your blood was being injected into other people with the same condition?”

The air rushes from my lungs in a crippling blow.

“What?” I gasp.

“They had already determined the genetic markers. Those lovely eyes of yours,” he explains in response to my confusion, pointing at my face.

Unfolding his hands, he brushes his palms along his thighs and rises from his seat in a fluid bolt-like movement. His posture is tall and domineering as he paces back and forth in front of me.

“When they found a way to keep you alive, you officially became the first of your kind. Richter believes infusing your blood into other Ultraxenopia candidates may help speed the evolution process along. He’s hoping it will bypass the incapacitating side-effects you experienced.”

The words seem like the description of a horrible nightmare I’m having.

Is what Nolan’s saying true? Is it even possible?

A part of me questions whether he’s making it up while another part knows he wouldn’t have knowledge of my blood at all—not unless it was true.

Here I thought this situation couldn’t possibly get any worse.

“Why would he do that?” I ask. It’s all I can manage.

Nolan snickers under his breath. “Why do you think?”

When I meet his gaze, he utters the very answer I was beginning to fear I’d hear.

“To create an army.”

“No,” I grunt. “Even he wouldn’t go that far.”

Nolan’s footsteps cease, and suddenly, I find him leaning over me. Placing his hands on the arms of my chair, he shifts forward until our faces are only a few inches apart.

“Wouldn’t he?” His left eyebrow cocks in amused disbelief. “This is a man who killed the woman he once claimed to love. I don’t think someone like that knows limits.”

He’s right. Richter doesn’t have limits. I don’t think that word even exists in his vocabulary.

Inhaling a slow, steadying breath, I try my best to remain calm. “So, you took me to stop that from happening?”

“Enforcers we can handle,” he says as he straightens up. “A thousand of you . . . probably not.”

The thought of others having this power unsettles me more than I care to admit. I’ve taken lives. While I’m not proud of that fact, as I told Ezra, it had to be done. Over the past two years, I’ve both loathed and embraced this disease, but I’ve found a way to live with the cards I’ve been dealt, and on some sick level, I’ve even enjoyed my invincibility. However, knowing I would be the cause of this curse in others is a terrible possibility I never prepared for. How will I ever live with myself if this becomes reality?

How could I doom others to this cruel existence?

“Did he succeed?” The words funnel into my ears as if they’ve been said by someone else.

“Not yet,” Nolan answers, “but we both know how persistent he is.”

He returns to his pacing while I try to organize the millions of questions rustling around in my skull. After a moment, I hear his voice break the agonizing silence, but the sound is clouded and somewhat distant. It takes an extreme amount of concentration to hear anything he says at all.

“You saw how unstoppable the State was with only one of you. Imagine the devastation if more were created.” Freezing in place, he looks down at me once more. “We had to do this.”

It took twenty-one years of my life to realize how abhorrent the State truly is. But PHOENIX?

It’s only taken me two.

What Nolan’s done—what PHOENIX has done—is nothing compared to what they intend to do. Even worse, what he’s aiming for is far more gruesome than he’s willing to accept.

“If you keep me here, the State will be attacked and many innocent people will die,” I say slowly.

For the briefest of moments, I expect Nolan to prove me wrong—to show me that he’s a decent, caring human who really is just hoping for a better world.

Until, I remember the mask. Until I remember the façade he’s been putting on since the moment we met.

“You’ve killed many innocent people yourself, have you not?”

I swallow. The guilt attempts to strangle me, but I force it away, unwilling to let him make this about me. What I’ve done is in the past. What matters now is what awaits us in the future.

“You won’t have a country to lead if everyone is dead. Mindless violence won’t bring about change.” The words escape my lips automatically, making me wonder if I’ve heard them somewhere before.

Nolan shakes his head in response. “I don’t wish for it to come to that, but this is the reality of war. One of the many downsides, if you will. All we can hope is that peace will be restored before too many have to suffer.”

Lowering my eyes, I allow silence to overtake me. I roll his statement over in my head, considering whether what he’s trying to accomplish is the only way to make room for a better world.

No, I tell myself.

I refuse to believe that.

There’s always a better option.

“And what if your plan fails?” I ask. “What if they don’t want peace?”

I glance up, and for once, I’m surprised by the expression crossing his face. Whereas before there was a grim and determined acceptance, now there’s only sadness.

He exhales a quavering breath before answering. “Then there’s no hope for any of us.”