“He’s in Spokane,” the male imposter Guard says, “giving a speech at a fundraising party.”

Emery nods. “We’re three hours behind. You’ll have to drive with the emergency lights on.” She holds out her hands to be cuffed. Pawel and I do the same.

Making sure my mask is firmly in place, I pile into the SUV—the three lawless protesters in Goodwin masks relegated to the back—and we set off south, deeper into Washington State.

I don’t talk—no one must know Ava Goodwin has returned to the States. But I’m back.

And I’m headed straight for Senator Gordon.

MIRA

“Please!” Ciro shouts from the middle of Alexander’s spacious living room. His valorous attempts as peaceful mediator have led us nowhere. “If we could all just sit down—”

“I told you!” Alexander screams from behind the safety of an armchair. “I won’t talk to her.”

“And I told you I didn’t kill your son!” I yell with such vehemence I feel my throat tear. “Your firstborn,” I add spitefully.

I pace up and down the length of his gaudy violet couch, attempting to calm myself, but I can’t catch my breath. My mind races with so many questions it’s difficult to grab hold of just one.

“Who is Theo?” I demand. “Does he share the same mother as Halton? Or did you have an affair?” Alexander presses his lips closed, but his panicked eyes answer for him.

“How did you evade your sterilization?” I throw at the governor’s son. “Halton was born in a hospital like all Dallas citizens. I saw the press release . . . Everyone did. The Family Planning doctors would never let you leave without the postbirth procedure . . . not even you.”

When I’m met with only silence, I pause my useless marching and turn toward the spiral staircase. I flick my eyes up the excessive steps, listening for Theo’s muffled pleas. Dad! . . . Don’t hurt him! . . . Why are you doing this? I imagine he’s screaming.

To placate Alexander and win over his trust, Ciro agreed to keep Theo locked upstairs with Kano, well away from me, and from the truth. Such a spoiled boy, I think. Just like his brother.

“Does he even know what he is?” I ask, whirling around to find Alexander glowering at me, the venom behind his stare so lethal Ciro sidesteps to block him from my view.

“Don’t!” Alexander’s disembodied voice cries. “Theo’s innocent in all of this.”

“Innocent?” I seethe. “Was I deemed innocent in the eyes of your father? Was I considered an innocent to the Rule of One?”

Alexander has no answer.

“You and your second-born are traitors just like me,” I whisper, my voice gruff and strained.

I take long, deep breaths, watching the last of the rainwater drip from the tips of my fingers and boots. “My parents died inside a basement and a prison cell for having a second child, and you’re living in a goddamn palace.”

My rage takes over, and I charge up the steps two at a time.

“Don’t you touch him!” Alexander cries out, like words could stop me.

As I reach the landing, I hear Alexander barreling after me.

“Kano, let me in!” I scream, sprinting down the long corridor, twisting the handles of every door I pass.

Two rooms ahead, the knob turns, and the door swings open. Kano blockades the entrance, and I attempt to shoulder my way in, but it’s like hitting a cement barrier. “Talking isn’t going well?” he asks dryly.

“Who are you people?” Theo demands, his own voice stripped from his one-sided screaming match. “Someone tell me what’s happening!”

I wriggle my head beneath Kano’s armpit and see Theo huddled in the corner of his platform bed, his hands zip-tied to a steel leg of his marble nightstand.

“Do you really not know?” I snap. How slow can this boy be? My waterlogged jacket sticks to my arms like a second skin, but I manage to yank up my sleeve high enough to expose my tattoo.

Shock freezes Theo’s face. “Common members?” he says slowly, as if persuading himself we’re real. His utter astonishment makes me hate him even more.

I keep my voice stable so Kano will let me pass. “I’m calm” is all I need to say, and he releases his hold on me. I barge into the room, Kano on my heels, and slam the door behind us. The lock clicks, and Alexander’s desperate fists pound on the door, begging to be let in.

“She won’t lay a finger on him.” Ciro’s muted assurances reach us from the other side of the door. “Theo is what we came here for. He’s the key.”

I move to the foot of Theo’s unmade bed, just out of kicking distance. He stares at me, a tragic fascination drawing his eyes to mine. With my right hand I reach up and rip off my ruined wig, showing him my mop of dyed blonde hair.

“Ava?” he says, confused.

Irritation pricks at my ego. For being called the wrong name, for Ava always being thought of first.

“You had a fifty-fifty shot, kid . . . ,” Kano says, shaking his head.

“I’m Mira,” I inform Theo, my tone as sharp as the blade inside my pocket.

“But how?” he stutters, his brain struggling to keep up with his eyes. “Why?”

I stand there, still holding the answer, reveling in his innocence and that I get to be the one to take it. I have no guilt. In fact, it feels deliriously good.

“You’re a Roth,” I throw at Theo, hoping it hurts. “You’re a secret member of the First Family of Texas.”

Theo shakes his head, but I keep going. “You’re a grandson of Governor Roth, making you Halton’s half brother. Heard of him?”

“That governor running for president? That’s just not . . .” Theo’s words die in his throat.

“If it weren’t the truth, do you really think I would be here?” I say.

Doubt escalates to denial. Then fury detonates inside him, burning across his cherrywood eyes. For a moment I think he’s going to upheave the bulky nightstand he’s tied to and swing it at me as a weapon—his athletic build certainly looks strong enough to achieve it. But he doesn’t. He simply sits there, paralyzed by the truth. His broad shoulders slump forward lower and lower, as if he wants to fold inward and disappear.

“So I’m like you?” Theo whispers. Lifting his head, he looks up at me, bare and vulnerable, a broken boy searching for glue.

You’ll find no solace here.

“You’re an illegal American child, yes. But I’m nothing like you.”

He nods like he understands. He doesn’t and he never will.

“I lived a half life underground. I didn’t exist for eighteen years.” I stop before I lose my temper. You owe him no explanation. Stay in control.

The pounding on Theo’s door stops, replaced by the muted thuds of a tussle. “Theo, let me explain!” Alexander cries out from the thin gap of air below the door. The tips of his manicured fingers stab through the opening, reaching out for his son. I can see Kano’s inner struggle not to step on them.

“Your stunt worked,” Kano says, grinning at me. “I think he’ll talk now . . .”

“Yes, yes, I’ll talk!” Alexander shouts. “Just let me see my son!” His slender fingers retreat right when I believe Kano made up his mind to crunch down.