We’d made it this far, but this one last moment—this was going to be what sent the whole thing crumbling down.

Sofía blew out a breath and closed her eyes, concentrating. Trying to find Remy or Droog, or maybe just checking the bird’s-eye view from outside, I wasn’t sure.

When her eyes snapped open, there was a look of shock on her face. She glanced toward the inside of her arm.

There was no sign of the raised ridge running along her skin. She shook her head. Gone.

Her power was gone, just like mine.

THIRTY-TWO

THE SIREN WAS STILL screaming, punctuated by shouts from within and outside the tent, indiscernible in the chaos. Soon they’d be swarming us, and we had no extra line of defense. No electrokinesis, no telepathy, no Remy, and no time.

My stomach spasmed. There was nothing else to do: I pried myself free of Levi, stumbled forward, and reached for the zipper.

Before my fingers ever got there, it started to move.

Someone was coming out.

The top of the flap curled open, like paper running from a flame, and the face behind it wasn’t Remy’s.

The soldier stared at me for a beat, stunned into stillness, and in that second, I saw the tatters of the wall behind him, whipping in the wind.

The room was empty—no Remy, no Droog, but signs that they’d been there!

That they’d ripped through the other side and gotten out!

In the next instant, as my eyes flew back to the soldier’s, he recovered.

He shouted something and reached toward his waist.

The last thing I saw was his fingers making contact with the gun, and then the world seemed to rip apart.

The walls billowed inward. The roof lifted, buoyed by wind, and all down the hallway the stakes leapt out of the ground just in time for the ceiling to be thrown back downward.

The fabric hit me on all sides, knocking me down with its speed as it tangled around me, the wind pummeling against my back. I fought against the material, pulling it away from my face to get a good breath. The wind was so loud I could no longer hear the siren.

I pushed myself up onto all fours and stuck my arm up, tenting the material over me as I screamed for Levi and Sofía. I couldn’t hear the sound of my own voice over the wind.

And then, just as quickly, the fabric rebounded upward, just long enough for me to spot Levi on his stomach ahead of me, one arm bent protectively around the back of Sofía’s head. The fabric flapped down again, slapping me in waves as I army-crawled toward them.

“WE HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE,” I tried to yell.

Sofía understood enough to yell back, “YOU THINK?”

Another gust flattened the tent again, cutting me off from them. Cutting me off from air and moonlight. This time, when I fought against it, it was useless. The wind was too strong; the material was too heavy, wound too tightly around me. I couldn’t get any oxygen. My arm muscles burned, and my intestines felt like they were being wound up with a roll of barbed wire.

It was like I was drowning.

I could fight or I could relax and slip into it, let the darkness swallow me.

Some instinct in my brain clicked into place, and I lost control over myself, went limp. My mind felt light, like a balloon lifting out of my body.

Even so, another part of me was screaming in the distance: I CAN’T BREATHE I CAN’T BREATHE I CAN’T—

Light pierced the fabric two feet to my left, and cool air blustered in. A hole!

Something had just torn a hole in the fabric. And then another, first a sharp puncture and then a slice as a knife drew a wide swipe in it. Nick’s knife.

The dim outline of hands snatched at the rippling fabric, tearing the hole wider until I could see the figure crouched on the other side. Levi reached out for me and pulled me through. The fabric caught around my hips, and I kicked against it until I freed myself the rest of the way, then lurched onto my feet between my friends.

The tent was two-thirds flattened, metal posts jabbing out of the fabric at odd, broken angles, and tattered bits waving like defeated flags. A person-shaped blob fought against the fabric three feet away from me—the soldier who’d nearly grabbed me—and all around the camp, others were rushing to help, silhouettes sprinting toward the collapsed structure, pulling people out.

But halfway across the ravaged cornfield, one other person was standing totally still. One other person and a dog.

Dark hair that fell to a wool-lined denim collar, turned up against his neck.

My ankle, my stomach, my head—all the pain in my body vanished under the wave of relief that hit me.

I hadn’t realized I’d started running until Remy did too, Droog jogging along beside him.

We collided in a hug, his hands clutching the back of my head, running over my hair roughly, my face burying into his neck. My body shuddered, unable to cry anymore, as the wind battered us. Morning couldn’t be too far off, but it was still too dark to see much of him. I could smell him though, breathe in the bonfire smoke that always clung to his jacket and the sweet-grassy smell his skin and clothes picked up after skateboarding.

Thank you, I thought. Thank you thank you thank you.

He pulled back enough to kiss the side of my face, and I knotted my fingers into his jacket. Levi and Sofía reached us, slamming into us like a basketball team at the final buzzer. Levi’s arms roped around us, squeezing so tightly it was hard to breathe.