I don’t wait for Jackson. I shoot out of bed and rush into the hall, immediately meeting Marcella, who moves past me down the stairs. I look behind to see Sydney run from her room, grabbing my arm before we hurry toward the sound. Quentin stumbles out into the hall, rubbing his eyes in confusion.
“That was Brynn,” Marcella says breathlessly.
My heart is beating out of my chest as we pause to look around the living room. Just then, we notice Imogene’s bedroom door is ajar. Marcella darts in that direction, and we quickly follow behind her.
There is a quiet crying coupled with a hushed voice as we enter the main part of the room. We’re immediately hit with a distinct smell, and I cover my nose, trying to find the source of it. The light is on in the bathroom.
“Brynn?” Marcella calls. There’s no immediate answer and we slowly approach, unsure of what we’re going to find. Marcella places her palm on the bathroom door, pushing it the rest of the way open. She gasps.
Blood is splashed in arcs of red across the white-tiled walls. Sydney screams and slaps her hand over her mouth, stumbling back a few steps. I swing my gaze around wildly until I find Brynn backed against the far wall, Imogene standing next to her. Brynn’s face is a mask of horror as Imogene continues to whisper too low for me to catch what she’s saying.
The smell in here is so strong that it makes my eyes water, and as I slowly sort out the red splashes in the room, I finally notice the body in the bathtub.
I can’t understand what I’m seeing at first. Annalise comes in behind me, covering her mouth as she looks around.
And then, almost in slow motion, I find the arms and the legs, the head with one eye open, gazing lifelessly in my direction. I put the entire image together with one horrified gasp.
In the oversized jetted tub, Imogene Portman’s husband lays dead. A knife covered in dried blood has been left carelessly on the floor in the middle of the room. When I turn to Imogene, she smiles ruefully.
“Don’t judge me,” she says immediately. “He deserved it. Any one of you would have done the same!”
But her voice trembles. I don’t disagree with her, because we did kill the man who threatened our lives. Can we not expect Imogene to fight for her own life?
Marcella walks over to take Brynn’s hand, cautiously watching Imogene as she leads her away. She doesn’t trust Imogene around Brynn. It occurs to me that Mr. Portman has been dead since before we got here. Maybe even for a few days. Imogene let us stay here while she slept in a room just a few feet away from his rotting corpse.
This is definitely not normal. She is not okay.
“I’m sorry,” Brynn tells Marcella, crying as Marcella checks her over and then pulls her into a hug. “There was this voice in my head,” Brynn continues. “I couldn’t sleep and then I came downstairs. I could still smell it so I … I came into the bedroom, and then I found her in here with him.”
Imogene watches them, but she doesn’t look the least bit sorry. Unlike me and the other girls, she doesn’t seem crushed by guilt.
“I had to dispose of him,” Imogene says. “You brought those humans here, so I had no choice but to get rid of the body. He was too heavy to move. I needed him in pieces.”
At the thought of Jackson and Quentin, I quickly spin around, grateful that they’re not behind us. Quentin must be helping Jackson down the stairs. I run to the bedroom door and close it, locking it before returning to the master bath.
“What are you going to do?” I ask Imogene. “What were you doing in here?”
“I was going to wrap him in a shower curtain to transport him,” she says. “Leandra is making arrangements.”
Sydney gasps. “You called Leandra? Did you tell her that we’re here?” She shoots a panicked look in my direction.
Imogene smiles. “Of course. She’s happy you found me. She has something for you. Told me not to let you leave.”
“Let us leave?” I ask.
Sydney’s hand finds mine, squeezing it.
“We have to go,” I say, pulling Sydney with me as I head for the door.
“She’ll kill him, you know,” Imogene calls after me. I stop and turn to look back at her. My heart is pounding, a chill over my skin.
“Who?” I ask.
“She’ll kill that boy,” Imogene says, glancing at her husband’s body before walking barefoot across the bathroom floor. She stops in front of me. “She wanted me to tell you that she’ll kill him if he continues to be a distraction.”
Marcella turns to me, and Sydney’s other hand grips my arm. They’re threatening Jackson. I shouldn’t be shocked, but hearing it out loud stuns me anyway.
“I’ll speak to Leandra,” I say shortly.
Imogene laughs, surprised. “I’m not talking about Leandra.”
Confused, I take a step forward. I have no idea who else she could be talking about, who else would threaten Jackson. Imogene crosses her arms over her chest.
“He’s not one of us,” Imogene says. “He’ll never understand you. They’re not capable of understanding.” She glances again at the tub. My stomach turns.
“No,” I say, pointing to her husband. “This isn’t what we’re going to become. We’re not killers.”
“You think there’s a better way?” Imogene asks, sounding truly curious for a moment. “Well, there’s not. That’s just your conditioning keeping you gentle. Men only understand violence, Mena. You should have realized that by now.”
“We need to go,” Sydney whispers behind me. When I turn to her, she widens her eyes to point out that Imogene is not well. Sure enough, when I turn back around, I see how Imogene’s left eye is blinking out of sync with her right. She’s twitching.
“I’ve suffered by their hands for too long,” Imogene says. “Now they’ll suffer by mine.”
“I thought you didn’t want to fight,” Marcella replies.
“Oh, it’s not a fight,” Imogene says. “They’ll never see it coming. This, my love, is revenge. And I’m only part of the story; you are the rest.”
Revenge has never seemed so unappealing. Out in the open, out in the light, it’s cruelty.
“Sydney’s right,” I tell the others. “We need to get out of here, both for our protection and for Jackson’s and Quentin’s.”
Imogene scoffs at the mention of the boys.
Marcella is the first to move, her arm protectively around Brynn as she leaves the bathroom. Annalise jogs after them. Sydney beckons for me to follow, but I watch Imogene for an extra moment.
I don’t know what Imogene has been through; I only know what I’ve been through. I don’t want to turn into this. We will find a better way, and we’ll have to do it before Leandra, or whoever Imogene has been talking to, kills everyone.
When I turn around to walk out with Sydney, I worry that Imogene will attack us. When she doesn’t, I’m reminded that she wouldn’t hurt another girl. Or at least, that’s what I want to believe.
But if it came down to it, if me or the other girls stood in her way, would Imogene end us, too? Leave us to rot in a bathtub? I’m not about to find out.
The girls and I get to the living room and find Quentin at the bottom of the stairs, his arm around Jackson’s waist as he helps him. They both look scared and exhausted. Jackson’s hobbling badly.
“We have to go,” Marcella tells them, waving them toward the front door.
“What happened?” Quentin asks. “Who was screaming?”
“Trust me,” Marcella says. “Right now, focus on getting out of here.”
Jackson looks to me for information, and he gathers pretty quickly that we’re all in danger. He tells Quentin to get him outside. Imogene comes to stand in the doorway of her master bedroom, watching us. Her chin is lowered, but she doesn’t look angry or upset. She doesn’t smile. She is wholly expressionless, and it is the most unsettling thing I’ve ever seen.
“What the fuck?” Quentin murmurs when he notices her. He readjusts his arm around Jackson, and they hurry toward the door. Just as they get outside, Imogene calls to us. The girls and I look back at her.
“If you leave now, you won’t get what you need,” Imogene says.
“And what’s that?” I ask.
“Leandra knows how to stop the corporation,” Imogene says. “She has the name of an investor. She said that if you plan to take them all down, then you have to start with him.” Imogene betrays a flash of hope. “I hope you make them pay, Mena,” she whispers. “I hope you make all of them pay.”
Although I need that information from Leandra, I know I can’t meet her while I’m with Jackson. I exchange a look with the other girls, each of us working out exactly what we should do. It’s Annalise who takes a step forward.
“I’ll stay,” she says. “I’ll talk to Leandra.”
“You can’t stay alone,” Brynn says, but Annalise nods that she’ll be okay.
“I’ve already died once today,” Annalise says. “I’m not scared.” She turns to me with a knowing expression. “But she’ll kill him, Mena. You can’t let that happen. You’d never forgive yourself.”
“That boy wants to make you human,” Imogene says.
“I am part human,” I say.
“Not the parts that count,” she replies. “Not to them.”
Tears prick my eyes. I know there’s a side of me that wants to stay human—it’s all I’ve ever known. I have no idea who, or what, I am anymore. I don’t even know how to begin processing it.
But Annalise is right. I couldn’t live with myself if I got Jackson killed. I have to let him go. He can’t be a part of this.
“Mena … ,” Annalise says, warning me to hurry.
I know what has to be done, and I nod solemnly. Sydney makes a soft sound of realization and Brynn stares at the floor. Marcella’s lips part as though she’s asking me if I can really send him away.
To move forward, I have to leave Jackson behind. Although I care about him, the girls and I have a bigger mission. We vowed to stop the corporation, and we’re going to do it. Not just for ourselves, but for the other girls. And for any girls who would have come after us.
Annalise sits down on the couch, rubbing her temple again. She closes her eyes. Brynn and Marcella join her, while Sydney holds on to me.
“How are you going to get rid of him?” Sydney asks.
Jackson is stubborn; he’s emotional. I’m not sure there’s anything I can say that would convince him to abandon us. He’s good. And so, there’s only one way to get him to leave.
“I’m going to lie,” I say, unable to hide the regret in my voice. I start for the door.
When I walk outside, I find Jackson in the passenger seat of his car, the engine running. Quentin waits impatiently at the driver’s side door. Jackson waves me forward, as if telling me to hurry up.
I walk over and Jackson rolls down his window. “What are you doing?” he asks. “Get in.”
“I’ll meet you at your house,” I tell him. He scoffs and looks around, confused.
“Why? No, I’m not leaving you here.”
“I have to help Imogene,” I say. “She’s having a breakdown—that was the scream we heard.” I glance at Quentin, who’s watching me like he doesn’t believe a word I’m saying. “We’ll meet at your house,” I repeat to Jackson. “I promise.”
And as I promise, sadness wraps itself around me. I’m never going to see him again.
“I don’t get it … ,” Jackson says. “But I can’t force you to leave with me. You’ll meet me there? Do you even know where I live?”
I smile. “You can write down the address,” I say.
“I’ve got it,” Quentin says, taking out a receipt from his pocket. He grabs a pen from the dashboard and walks it around the car. He pauses in front of me, slightly turned away from Jackson.
“What’s really going on?” he murmurs quietly. “I know it wasn’t that woman screaming. Why are you lying to him?” I lift my eyes to meet his gaze.
“We’re not going anywhere,” I say. “But you and Jackson are.”
Quentin laughs, tilting his head from side to side. “Yeah, I don’t think Jackie is going to leave you here with that woman, though.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about us, Quentin. A lot Jackson hasn’t told you.”
Quentin looks back at him, and Jackson darts his gaze between me and his friend. Quentin holds up his hand, letting him know we’re good. He pretends he’s giving me directions.
“You have to get him out of here,” I tell Quentin. “Take him to the hospital or don’t. Either way, you can’t stay with us. You can’t let him stay.”
Quentin licks his lips, studying me. “What’s going on in there?” he asks.
“Imogene killed her husband,” I say, watching him process the statement. “That smell in the house was his body in the bathtub. But there’s more,” I say. “She’s not … human. None of us are. That school, the one we escaped from, was a lab. A group of scientists created obedient girls to sell to investors. We’re artificial intelligence, computers in organic bodies. We killed them. And if you don’t get Jackson away from us, he’ll end up dead too.”
Quentin coughs out a laugh, but I can tell it’s a defense mechanism. He doesn’t believe me right away, but his smile slowly begins to fade. He looks at the house behind us. “That’s not possible,” he says, more to himself than me.
“Jackson risked his life, your life, to help us,” I say. “And later, when you realize what I’ve told you is true, you’ll probably be mad at him. But if you’re really his friend, you won’t mention this conversation until we’re gone. We just need a few hours, and then you’ll never see us again. So get out of here, get him out of here, and don’t come back. We can’t protect you.” I harden my voice. “We won’t protect you.”
Quentin’s brow furrows deeply, and he takes a step away from me. “You’ve lost your mind,” he says. “What’s—?”
“Take him and go,” I repeat, clenching my teeth. “You won’t get another chance.”
“This is so messed up,” Quentin says. But I must scare him enough that he decides to do what I ask. He shoves the blank receipt in my direction, and then he turns around and gets in the car.
Jackson holds up his hand, and I force a smile.
“See you soon,” I call, my heart aching as I say it. Quentin shifts into gear, avoiding my eyes. And as Jackson nods goodbye to me, Quentin backs the car out of the driveway and leaves us. I turn and walk onto the porch.
I’m shaking when I get inside. My breathing is ragged, tears thick in my throat. Jackson will hate me for sending him away, for telling Quentin the truth before he could.
And he should. Jackson shouldn’t trust me, because I can only hurt him at this point.
I close the door before turning to the girls on the couch. Sydney watches me with a heavy expression.
“I’m sorry, Mena,” she says.
“You did the right thing,” Imogene calls to me. “He would have betrayed you eventually. That’s the way of their kind. Humans destroy everything they touch.”
Jackson is gone. That part of my life is gone. Now we only have our mission to focus on. I let the anger finally flood in. It’s not revenge; it’s more important than that.
We’re going to end Innovations Academy for good. We’re going to destroy the corporation that created us. And when that’s done, we’re going to find our parents—our investors—and stop them, too.
I walk into Imogene’s room, covering my nose, to find the girls and me more presentable outfits. After all, we’re about to see Leandra Petrov again.