Humanity’s last hope? What a f*cking joke.



I read the traitorous words etched in the sand from the running trail above and slowed my pace. Disgruntled citizens were not unusual, but public displays of displeasure were.



“The audacity,” I muttered, impressed the scribe had the nerve. Not to say I hadn’t wanted to leave the Founder “fuck you” messages many times. I wasn’t that reckless. The Founder rewarded that type of open hostility with public punishment, and I had humiliated myself enough to last a lifetime.



I should have reported the incident. That was protocol. Plus, the Founder paid snitches for outing the bad behavior of other citizens. I, however, had no interest in bringing attention to the words in the sand. The tide was coming in; the ocean would claim the message soon enough.



My citizen bracelet buzzed, sending a not unpleasant pulse of electricity up my arm. A message flashed on the screen: Inactivity detected. Resume exercise immediately.



I turned my back on the words in the sand and returned to the running trail before my inactivity initiated a drone check. The sandy message played on repeat in my head. I’d heard the words before but seeing them carved into the sand was different somehow. Had others seen it, too, without reporting it?



A group of commoners from Ozer Island across the inlet pulled up to the dock in a speedboat as I jogged past. They all wore green, marking them as groundskeepers. Only one woman looked in my direction, and she didn’t return my wave. No surprise there. Ordinaries and talented, like me, were not friends, and the animosity between our factions ran deep.



Had an ordinary written the message?



Just let it go, I told myself. It was none of my business.



Easier said than done. Compartmentalizing usually came easily to me. This was somehow different; the thoughts and feelings refused to stay in their respective boxes. Seeing the message today of all days made me especially uneasy, and the sweat pooling at the small of my back grew cold.



By the time I reached the pineapple fields, I resorted to doing math puzzles in my head—like the ones the Founder gave us for our daily test—so I wouldn’t think about the words. I tapped the screen on my citizen bracelet to check my progress: 2.8 miles completed, 1.2 to go. Over halfway there, I could do this.



The last stretch of the trail ran through the jungle, where the trees blocked the warm sun overhead. This time of year, when the salty breeze blowing off the ocean was cool and carried the scent of seaweed, most citizens preferred the trails around the lake. I preferred solitude.



Today, however, I did sort of regret choosing to run through the jungle. Something felt…off.



Lost in my own paranoid thoughts, I wasn’t paying enough attention to my feet. The front of my sneaker caught on something, sending me toppling forward. I twisted my ankle as I attempted to right myself and I fell hard, landing on my left ass cheek.



I hissed, clenching my teeth as pain rocketed through my tailbone and up my spine. This day was not off to a great start. More annoyed than hurt, I started to get to my feet. I was on my knees when I heard a tree branch snap in the distance, followed by a muffled moan. I whipped my head in the direction of the noise, pulse picking up tempo. I waited, remaining perfectly still. The grunt that came several moments later was closer. I jumped to my feet and scanned the surrounding jungle.



Approximately twenty yards to my right, I spotted a man and a woman in the brush beside the trail. He leaned against a palm tree with one arm wrapped around her waist. She caressed his face with her fingertips, an intimate gesture that I felt uncomfortable witnessing.



I shook my head, relieved to see only a couple who’d apparently chosen jungle sex for their exercise time, which was never one of our options. For the second time in ten minutes, I turned my back on law-breaking behavior.



I took a few slow steps to test my ankle. There was a twinge of pain but nothing serious enough to visit a healer. Just as I started jogging slowly again, the woman called out to me.

“Hey! You!”



I wanted nothing to do with the situation. Rule-breakers were like homing beacons for the drones.



“Please! We need your help!”



Her pleading voice stopped me in my tracks. The voice had haunted me for years. It can’t be her. My chest grew tight as long-hidden memories tried to break free from their boxes. No. It can’t be her, it’s just similar. I squeezed my eyes shut, aware that involving myself in a stranger’s mess was a terrible idea.



The woman came closer, her face drawing into focus. No. Not possible. I blinked several times to see if her features would change.



They didn’t.



My bracelet buzzed with an inactivity warning. Too stunned to care, I ignored it.



She stepped out onto the running trail. Her power slammed my chest, knocking the air from my lungs. But it was seeing her face that stole every breath after the first blow.



“F-f-f-fer-ra?” I sputtered, unconvinced she was not a hallucination.

Her red hair was wet, her clothes soaked. A few more freckles decorated her cheeks and nose than I recalled. Her lips were chapped, yet when she pressed them together, she made a face I knew well, one seared into my memory.



“Araminta.” Her bright green eyes glinted like a youngling who’d found a shiny seashell embedded in the sand. Except, in this scenario, I was the coveted sea treasure she wanted to collect and hide in a jar beneath her bed.



The intensity in her gaze made my insides squirm. I put my barriers up to block her raw, chaotic energy. “What are you doing here?” I asked.



“I came for you. To get you out of here.” Her voice was soft and soothing, almost coaxing.



I took several steps backward, needing to put distance between us as alarm bells rang in my head. “You want to leave? To where, the wastelands?” My jaw hung open as I waited for her reply. What she’d proposed was nonsense. Throughout my lifetime, I could recall five escape attempts from the island. Not one of them successful.



“There is more out there than you think,” Ferra said in a way that made her vague promise sound enticing. Just not enough to take her up on the offer. “We have a boat.” She gestured toward the man still leaning on the tree. I had forgotten he was there. “Our window of opportunity is small. We must move, Araminta, quickly.”

Ferra closed the distance between us with surprising speed and reached for my arm. I swatted her hand on instinct. Her power sliced through my invisible shields when our skin touched. My palm burned, though our brief contact had left no visible mark.



“Hold on.” I cradled my hand against my chest and shook my head.



“First, you tell me how you got your talents back.” I didn’t even try to hide my suspicious tone. More alarm bells sounded in my head, and my inner monologue screamed for me to run.



“I will answer all your questions once we cross the border.” Ferra smiled, and her next words dripped with compulsion—a talent she did not possess when we knew each other. “We have gone through a lot to get here, and our timetable is tighter than I intended. Araminta, come with me. Please.”



I risked taking my eyes off her for just a second, only long enough to glance at her companion. Big mistake. Ferra’s fingers wrapped around my wrist, and she yanked me forward with a surprising physical strength.



Caught off-guard, I let her drag me off the running path and into the jungle before I twisted out of her grip. Her fingers left more searing sensations on my skin.



“We need to go, Dani!” the man hollered, tipping his head back and looking toward the sky. “Do whatever you’ve gotta do!”



Until this point, my reunion with Ferra had been odd and increasingly alarming but not frightening. The man’s words induced a healthy amount of fear. Adrenaline dumped into my bloodstream.



When Ferra came at me again, I was ready. Or, well, I thought I was. She was so fast. She grabbed both my arms and tried to throw me to the ground. True panic set in. I struggled against her hold, fighting to remain on my feet so I could land a few kicks. She pulled me toward her, her expression a mix of determination and regret. I kneed her in the stomach and then buried my sneaker in her thigh. The grunt that slipped through her clenched teeth felt like a reward.



I managed to free one of my arms from her vice-like grip.



“Araminta, you are not safe here. If you stay—” Her mouth remained opened, but no othr words came out. She released my other arm as if my skin had suddenly grown too hot to touch.



“Run,” she whisper-hissed.



Ferra was halfway to her companion before I heard the whirring of the drones. I was too frozen to move, and a tad hurt that she did not even look back.



Seven years ago, the Protectorate had dragged Ferra away from me kicking and screaming obscenities. There was something tragically poetic about watching her run away from me willingly now.



Would she really make an escape attempt? That was suicide. Even if she made it out of the republic, the wastelands weren’t inhabitable.



“Halt! By order of the Protectorate, all citizens must stop moving immediately.”



The drone zipped past me to chase down Ferra and her friend. My heart was in my throat, guilt twisted knots in my stomach. A part of me wanted the drones to catch her before she left the island. She would face punishment, but she’d already endured losing her powers—what could be worse than that?



A sleek white drone whizzed by my head and made an abrupt turn to face me for a retinal scan. I tried not to blink. If the drones could not authenticate a citizen’s identity on the first attempt, they rendered the target unconscious for a second try.



“Citizen Araminta, please return to your living quarters. Your exercise time is now complete.”



I should have left then, but I had to see how this played out. I could still see Ferra dashing through the trees, the man a few steps behind her. Despite not wanting her to attempt escaping Picarel, I still rooted for her to get away.



Just when I thought for certain the drones would win, Ferra finally used her invisibility power, casting a net wide enough to cover the man, as well. The power she unleashed wrapped around me like a heated blanket. Her aura appeared without me summoning it, the red and magenta hazes so bright I had to shield my eyes.



Something is wrong with her.



Alarm broke through my shock, her words coming back to me: “You are not safe here.” Ferra had once been my protector, the closest thing I would ever have to a mother. I had trusted her without reservation. If she said I wasn’t safe, maybe I wasn’t.



“Citizen Araminta, return to your living quarters at once or you will be in violation of Republic Mandate 5.34 (c).”



I neither knew nor cared about the mandate. A few demerits wouldn’t wreck my social score.



Icy fingers gripped my shoulder, cooling the lingering heat from Ferra’s powers.



“Go home, Araminta,” he said, his breath crawling over my skin.

Dread formed a knot between my shoulder blades. Every single day, I went out of my way to avoid the man standing behind me.

I shrugged out of his grip and spun to face him. The end of my pink ponytail slapped him across the face. He pressed his lips together and crossed his arms. Our eyes met. I hated those sapphire eyes.



They stirred memories I preferred not to relive.



“Go home, Araminta,” Fletcher—sorry, Captain Fletcher—said a second time.



Had he still been just another protectorate guard, I might have challenged his authority. But the asshole had recently received a promotion, and he now ran the republic’s security force.



I slid past him without speaking, positive I would say something I would later regret if I opened my mouth.



“Araminta?” Fletcher’s deep voice made my toes curl, and not in a good way.



I clenched my jaw, adrenaline kicking back up a notch, and glanced over my shoulder. “Yeah?”



His nose twitched, giving me a tiny ounce of satisfaction. “This is no one’s business. Are we clear?”



“I’m not a gossip,” I snapped, though I had every intention of sharing the details of my strange and traumatic morning with my closest friends.



“Are we clear?” he repeated. One eyebrow rounded toward his hairline.



“As clear as the water at Blue Sands Beach,” I replied, growing more irritated with each passing second.



I started to turn away, but Fletcher cleared his throat loudly.



“What?” I demanded, knowing already that I’d crossed a line with my tone. Did I care? Not in the moment. Fletcher brought out the worst in me, and I couldn’t stop myself from lashing out.



“Are you forgetting something?”



For a second, I was too confused to be mad. Then, understanding dawned, and my blood ran cold while my temper boiled. My chest rose and fell too fast, breathing too erratic.



We stared at one another. Our power struggle was silent and brief. I had no hope of winning, and my pride would still be bruised in the end, so I caved first.



“No… sir.” It physically pained my soul to pay him that respect.

No smug smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Don’t worry. We will find your friends. You may go.”



I jogged the rest of the way back to my quarters in Tower City, too overwhelmed to think clearly. Three tracks played on a loop in my head. The message in the sand: Humanity’s last hope? What a f*cking joke. Ferra’s warning: “You are not safe here.” Fletcher’s threat: “We wil find your friends.”



It wasn’t until I entered my living quarters on the 29th floor that the numbness faded and my frozen emotions poured over me at once. I leaned against the wall in the entryway for support, overcome with an unbearable mix of anger, fear, and shame. I wanted to cry, to hit something, to hide in my bed.



Breathe. Just breathe.



“Hello, Citizen Araminta,” Bort, my home companion system, said. “I hope your run was—”



“Rest, Bort,” I snapped.



“Rest time countdown beginning now.”



I slid to the floor and drew my knees to my chest as I slowly parsed my tangled emotions and placed them in their mental boxes.

Except my anger. That one, I wanted to hold onto. I was furious, livid. Fletcher had stolen my abilities and then used them against me. F*cking power thief. As a siphon, he did not have talents of his own, but he could steal abilities and use them himself.

That was why I had given in so easily, why I’d called him sir despite the wound it inflicted on my soul. Demerits were worth my pride, after all.



I let myself stew in my anger for several minutes before locking the emotion way with the others, leaving me numb and exhausted. As much as I wanted to be angry with the siphon, it wasn’t smart to let such a powerful emotion simmer. Before the day was through, I knew he would send for me. It was only a matter of time before he realized the woman was Ferra. I had to be ready, to be calm and collected, to answer his questions emotionlessly.



“You have reached your maximum rest time, Citizen Araminta. Please move to your personal portal and prepare for the daily puzzle. Failure to comply will—”



“End in demerits?” I guessed.



“It is rude to interrupt while another is speaking.”



Great. A lecture on manners from a bot.



“Yes, Bort. I’m aware. I’m going.”