Emery braces herself against her armrests, clearly fighting off another fit of nausea. When I near her row, she manages to give me a nod as if to say, Well done.

I decide to take a seat beside her. “Talking helps,” I say, placing the vomit bag onto her tray table. “It distracts you.”

Emery smiles and closes her notebook. “What would you like to discuss?”

“My mother,” I say. I suddenly crave stories about my mother that have nothing to do with the rebellion. “Will you tell me how my parents fell in love in Denver?”

Emery was Lynn’s best friend. She would know details no one else could.

“‘How’ is not the right question when it comes to love, Ava,” Emery says, briefly squeezing my hand. “No one knows the how or the why of it. But I will tell you what I know about Lynn’s courtship of Darren.”

My mother went after Father? I always thought it was the other way around. Rayla certainly made it seem that way.

Fascinated, I rest my head back against the seat and close my eyes, ready to imagine my parents young and alive with love.

Now seated at the back of the plane, I rest my forehead against the cold window, gazing down on the mighty Dallas skyline thousands of feet below.

I’ve seen aerial shots of the capital before, but to experience this rare perspective with my own eyes takes my breath away. The cityscape seems to go on forever, and in the distance, I make out Guardian Tower, shining like a star in the twilight.

In all the hundreds of thousands of years of modern human history, this bird’s-eye view has only been seen by people for less than two centuries. But recently it was taken from the public once more, reserved only for the most elite; even a government official like my father never once enjoyed the honor of flying.

I wish Mira were here to share this moment with me. What new experiences is she having without me?

I hope she’s down there already, waiting. See you soon, at the Last Stage.

“Dallas doesn’t look so bad from above,” Pawel says from the aisle. I turn my gaze to him. He bends over to look out my window, his cowlick keeping up its resistance to lying flat. “It almost looks peaceful.”

Any question of loyalty on my end and judgments of hasty actions on his, any hard feelings we had between us, have disappeared.

“It’s remarkable, isn’t it?” I say, staring back out the window.

All across the metropolis, the lights from the skyscrapers burn bright like beacons of change. The last flickers of hope.

We can’t let them fade out.

Without warning, the plane changes course and veers away from Dallas.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve run into an unforeseen security defense and must make an emergency landing,” the pilot shouts into the cabin speakers. “Please return to your seats immediately and fasten your seat belts.”

Emery and Barend barrel toward the cockpit door.

“What the hell is going on?” I say to Pawel, rising from my seat. He’s turned pale.

“There must be a virtual sky fence around Dallas that broke through our stealth shield,” he says as we race for the control room together. “We have to land now, or the military will attempt to take control of the plane by hacking into our operating system. If they achieve this, they can force-land our plane on one of the Guard’s runways.”

Governor Roth found us.

I was right. We can’t hide from him, not even in the sky.

OWEN

“Well, this view sucks,” I say out loud to no one.

The roof of the Last Stage theater was supposed to give me a vantage point to scope out the battleground. Roth’s got home-court advantage—we need to see what we’re up against.

But nope. Mega skyscrapers hem in the old playhouse on all sides—the only thing I can see that’s not a building is the alleyway right below. Awesome.

It’s better than nothing. I take what I can get and sit on the edge of the building, posting up as watchdog.

Zero action. My mind starts to wander.

Inside the theater, Haven is here. Rayla’s lost daughter. Her hard life shows on her sun-spotted face and the way she doesn’t talk much. I think I’m the first person she’s ever tried to shake hands with. Imagine it. She’s lived forty-plus years as a government ward, separated from her family, kept alive just to be worked to death, and now she’s with her mother again. A new chance at life. It’s enough to almost make me believe in miracles. Or fate. Almost.

That family is a tough breed to kill off—and we just gained another one on our side. That’s four for us, zero for Roth. I’m liking our odds.

I’d like them a hell of a lot better, though, if everyone would get here already. Our team was the first to arrive at the rendezvous point—no Ava or Mira or any of the members Rayla called the Elders. Scratch that, only half our team made it here. Blaise and Kipling still haven’t turned up. Neither have Xavier and Malik.

“Mandatory curfew! Return immediately to your residence, or you will be arrested!” The annoying alert will not shut up. It blasts into the streets on repeat like the citizens didn’t get it the first time. Dallas is a complete ghost town, or did the Guard’s camera eyes decide to take a little nap?

“Yeah, we got it!” I say aloud. Right after I say it, the electronic voice cuts out. Two seconds of silence, then an eardrum-busting siren takes its place.

“That wasn’t me,” I insist, covering my mouth. The last time I uttered those words after an unexpected siren went off, all hell broke loose.

I rocket up to my feet, wishing I’d learned to keep my big mouth shut.

“Mandatory public assembly! Report immediately to Capitol Square!” the new order demands. That can’t be good. A public assembly means Roth has something he wants to show off.

Ava and Mira.

Double not good.

I have to tell Rayla. I tear down five flights of stairs and arrive in front of Rayla and Haven, crazy out of breath. “It’s Ava . . . and Mira . . . ,” I stammer.

Not helpful. Use more of your words. “Assembly . . .”

Somebody flips on the room’s speakers. Thank Whitman. “Mandatory public assembly! Report immediately to Capitol Square!”

The look in Rayla’s eyes tells me she knows it’s the twins too. Her right hand moves for her gun. Her other hand has never left Haven’s shoulder.

“Save the twins!” Rayla roars. She drowns out the government’s voice. “This is our time to fight back!”

The safe house explodes in response to our leader’s call to arms. They raise their guns, knives, anything that can be used as a weapon, into the air. I stand beside her, raising my own gun.

Haven pulls out a Guard’s pistol from her waistband, ready to fight for her family. But Rayla stops her. “I need you to stay here and guard Mrs. Roth. She’s too important to lose. So are you,” she tells her daughter. “Keep out of sight and danger.”

“No, I stay with you,” Haven protests.

“Please,” Rayla says. She moves her hand up to Haven’s cheek. “I need to know at least you remain out of Roth’s grasp.”

Haven relents and goes in for a hug. It’s obvious she’s out of practice, because it’s clumsy and she squeezes way too hard, but Rayla’s a noob at physical emotion, too, so it’s actually perfect. Neither wants to let go. Is that a lump in my throat?