In the pain, I imagine bliss.

My thoughts are like wind, rushing, curling into the depths of myself, expelling, dispelling darkness

I imagine love, I imagine wind, I imagine gold hair and green eyes and whispers, laughter

I imagine

Me

extraordinary, unbroken

the girl who shocked herself by surviving, the girl who loved herself through learning, the girl who respected her skin, understood her worth, found her strength

s t r o n g

s t r o n g e r

strongest

Imagine me

master of my own universe

I am everything I ever dreamed of

KENJI

We’re in the air.

We’ve been in the air for hours now. I spent the first four hours sleeping—I can usually fall asleep anywhere, in any position—and I spent the last two hours eating all the snacks on the plane. We’ve got about an hour left in our flight and I’m so bored I’ve begun poking myself in the eye just to pass the time.

We got off to a good start—Nouria helped us steal a plane, as promised, by shielding our actions with a sheet of light—but now that we’re up here, we’re basically on our own. Nazeera had to fend off a few questions over the radio, but because most of the military has no idea what level of shit has already gone down, she still has the necessary clout to bypass inquiries from nosy sector leaders and soldiers. We realize it’s only a matter of time, though, before someone realizes we don’t have the authority to be up here.

Until then—

I glance around. I’m sitting close enough to the cockpit to be within earshot of Nazeera, but she and I both decided that I should hang back to keep an eye on Warner, who’s sitting just far enough away to keep me safe from his scowl. Honestly, the look on his face is so intense I’m surprised he hasn’t started aging prematurely.

Suffice it to say that he didn’t like Nouria’s game plan.

I mean, I don’t like it, either—and I have no intentions of following through with it—but Warner looked like he might shoot Nouria for even thinking that we might have to kill J. He’s been sitting stiffly in the back of the plane ever since we boarded, and I’ve been wary of approaching him, despite our recent reconciliation. Semi-reconciliation? I’m calling it a reconciliation.

But right now I think he needs space.

Or maybe it’s me, maybe I’m the one who needs space. He’s exhausting to deal with. Without J around, Warner has no soft edges. He never smiles. He rarely looks at people. He’s always irritated.

Right now, I honestly can’t remember why J likes him so much.

In fact, in the last couple of months I’d forgotten what he was like without her around. But this reminder has been more than enough. Too much, in fact. I don’t want any more reminders. I can guarantee that I will never again forget that Warner is not a fun guy to spend time with. That dude carries so much tension in his body it’s practically contagious. So yeah, I’m giving him space.

So far, I’ve given him seven hours’ worth of space.

I steal another glance at him, wondering how he holds himself so still—so stiff—for seven hours straight. How does he not pull a muscle? Why does he never have to use the bathroom? Where does it all go?

The only concession we got from Warner was that he showed up looking more like his normal self. Sam was right: Warner took a shower. You’d think he was going on a date, not a murder/rescue mission. It’s obvious he wants to make a good impression.

He’s wearing more Haider castoffs: a pale green blazer, matching pants. Black boots. But because these pieces were selected by Haider, the blazer is not a normal blazer. Of course it isn’t. This blazer has no lapels, no buttons. The silhouette is cut in sharp lines that force the jacket to hang open, exposing Warner’s shirt underneath—a simple white V-neck that shows more of his chest than I feel comfortable staring at. Still, he looks okay. A little nervous, but—

“Your thoughts are very loud,” Warner says, still staring out the window.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” I say, feigning shock. “I’d turn the volume down, but I’d have to die in order for my brain to stop working.”

“A problem easily rectified,” he mutters.

“I heard that.”

“I meant for you to hear that.”

“Hey,” I say, realizing something. “Doesn’t this feel like some kind of weird déjà vu?”

“No.”

“No, no, I’m being serious. What are the odds that the three of us would be on a trip like this again? Though the last time we were all on a trip like this, we ended up being shot out of the sky, so—yeah, I don’t want to relive that. Also, J isn’t here. So. Huh.” I hesitate. “Okay, I think I’m realizing that maybe I don’t actually understand what déjà vu means.”

“It’s French,” Warner says, bored. “It literally means already seen.”

“Wait, so then I do know what it means.”

“That you know what anything means is astonishing to me.”

Before I have a chance to defend myself, Nazeera’s voice carries over from the cockpit.

“Hey,” she calls. “Are you guys being friends again?”

I hear the familiar click and slide of metal—a sound that means Nazeera is unbuckling herself from pilot mode. Every once in a while she puts the plane on cruise control (or whatever) and makes her way over to me. But it’s been at least half an hour since her last break, and I’ve missed her.

She folds herself into the chair next to me.

I beam at her.

“I’m so glad you two are finally talking,” she says, sighing as she sinks into the seat. “The silence has been depressing.”

My smile dies.

Warner’s expression darkens.

“Listen,” she says, looking at Warner. “I know this whole thing is horrible—that the very reason we’re on this plane is horrible—but you have to stop being like this. We have, like, thirty minutes left on this flight, which means we’re about to go out there, together, to do something huge. Which means we all have to get on the same page. We have to be able to trust each other and work together. If we don’t, or if you don’t let us, we could end up losing everything.”

When Warner says nothing, Nazeera sighs again.

“I don’t care what Nouria thinks,” she says, trying for a gentle tone. “We’re not going to lose Ella.”

“You don’t understand,” Warner says quietly. He’s still not looking at us. “I’ve already lost her.”

“You don’t know that,” Nazeera says forcefully. “Ella might still be alive. We can still turn this around.”

Warner shakes his head. “She was different even before she was taken,” he says. “Something had changed inside of her, and I don’t know what it was, but I could feel it. I’ve always been able to feel her—I’ve always been able to sense her energy—and she wasn’t the same. Emmaline did something to her, changed something inside of her. I have no idea what she’s going to be like when I see her again. If I see her again.” He stares out the window. “But I’m here because I can do nothing else. Because this is the only way forward.”