“You will let the Common know I played my part?” Mrs. Roth asks. Her fingers clamp down on her grandson’s hand with zero intention of ever letting go. “You look so much like my Halton.”

“The codes?” Theo asks, completely smooth.

“Red, Polaris, six, ocean, amity.”

Victory!

Theo yanks back his hand, wipes it on his soaked shirt, and leaves.

Haven and Alexander wave at the crowd to pipe down, and I shout the Blackout Codes so Blaise can hear. He pops his head out of the control room and gives a Got it! nod.

Should be done in no time.

I give myself a mental high five, feeling keyed up from my gung-ho, take-charge spirit. I’m on a roll.

“Do you have any more information?” I ask the First Lady. “Like . . . I don’t know, where exactly the governor’s hiding?”

One mention of her husband and her teeth start chattering. She crosses her arms like a blizzard suddenly blew through.

“The governor doesn’t hide. He waits.”

Well, that sounds ominous.

Shouting breaks out from all exits of the theater.

“Those are happy shouts, right?” I ask Haven and Alexander.

Blaise must’ve hacked open the doors!

Then the general hurrah shifts gears. They’re screaming now. Row after row picks up on the hysteria, passing the message to us in a high-stakes game of telephone until finally the words make sense.

“The Guard is coming!” I scream to Rayla up on the stage.

Holy Whitman, the Guard is coming.

Fight or flight? One look from Rayla and I know.

We fight.

AVA

A mass of citizens pushes its way through the now-unlocked theater doors, terror on their faces.

“The Guard is coming!” they scream, seeking shelter inside the safe house that was our cage only seconds ago. Adrenaline courses through my body as the Common’s leadership and I elbow our way out into the garage. We will not run from the enemy. We will stand and face them.

Not everyone feels as I do. One of the Common’s Cavalry flees out the garage’s exit, the getaway car jam-packed with people who clearly feel their chances of survival are greater out on the streets by themselves. They made a mistake. There is strength in numbers.

“Get back here, you bastards!” Owen shouts, racing after the car. Kipling breaks rank and hurries to protect the rest of our Cavalry’s cars.

“Ciro!” Mira exclaims beside me. I look at the garage entrance and find two men scrambling in our direction, their arms over each other’s shoulders in support. Barend. He’s injured.

“Please, a medic!” Ciro calls out. He’s bloodied—his blonde hair and smooth face stained red—and shaken, all semblance of his usual buoyant self shattered.

Ciro tries to carefully lay Barend on the ground. Mira and I race forward to help, our deep-rooted instinct to heal still there. Turns out our hands can heal and hurt. Just like yours, Father.

“The Scream Gun . . . he gave his earplugs to me,” Ciro says, frantic, his once-bright eyes glassy with fear. He places a tender kiss onto Barend’s forehead and the soldier leans into his touch.

“He’ll be okay. The pain will pass,” I assure Ciro. I know just how it feels to have a shockwave delivered inside your skull so loud it brings you screaming to your knees. It’s almost worse watching helpless as someone you love suffers through it.

I look calmly into Barend’s eyes. He’s not our betrayer. All the questionable actions, the secretiveness. Ciro’s former bodyguard must’ve been trying to hide his feelings for his superior. A leftover Guard habit?

“Ten armored SUVs . . . ,” Ciro pants, “and a heat-ray gun . . . are headed to our safe house.” He locks eyes with Emery, who has come up behind us. “Less than a mile away.”

This triggers something in Mira; her eyes grow wide in alarm, and she wraps her arms around her body as if she can already feel the agonizing burn. Has Mira been tortured by that weapon before?

“Create a barrier with the cars!” Rayla commands at once, facing the Common. “Draw whatever weapons you have. Be prepared to defend yourselves!”

Barend shakily rises to his feet, bracing himself on Ciro’s shoulder. A soldier never turns down a fight. “What are our numbers?” he asks through clenched teeth.

“There is no defending yourself—it’s a weapon designed to end all defense,” Alexander says in an urgent undertone.

“They’re here!” Xavier shouts, exiting the final car in the makeshift blockade.

“Everyone, take shelter now!” Emery orders. “Weapons at the ready!”

I take a step toward the entrance, firmly gripping my gun, but Rayla puts a hand on my shoulder to stop me. “No, you and Mira take cover. Watch over Haven and Mrs. Roth,” she says resolutely, before she moves for the garage entrance.

There’s no time to argue. Mira, Theo, Pawel, and I help lead the remaining frightened Common members behind thick concrete pillars as Rayla joins Emery, Alexander, and Xavier inside Owen’s car. A perfect stake-out position.

“Duke’s bulletproof. He’ll keep Rayla safe,” Owen says as he returns from positioning his car in the barricade. Duke? He named his vehicle?

Lean and scrappy, Owen has one of those charming faces that must get him out of all kinds of trouble. His combination of dimples and cheerful, deep-set golden eyes makes him look like the trouble. He also has a mouth that doesn’t like to stay closed. The opposite of Rayla’s ideal companion. I wonder how they met.

“Ava, there’s movement,” Mira says softly, sneaking a stealth look out at the action. I shake my head clear and crouch down beside her at the edge of the pillar to steal a glance at the garage entrance.

Ten armored vehicles—outfitted with autonomous machine guns—flank an indomitable tank with a massive antenna on its roof. They’re parked right outside the Common’s doorstep, facing us.

Why haven’t they opened fire?

“Are they waiting for us to shoot first?” Theo asks, looking over our heads.

The passenger door of the closest tinted-window SUV cracks open, and an anonymous hand appears, waving something in the smoggy Dallas air.

“What is that?” Owen breathes below us, stacking himself underneath Mira and me for a view.

A flowy object dangles out the door.

“It’s a yellow cloth,” Pawel says, practically lying on the ground below Owen, peering at the scene through a pair of binoculars. Smart move, tracker.

“Like a cease-fire?” Owen asks. “Aren’t those supposed to be white?”

“A flag of alliance . . .” Mira formulates her thoughts out loud.

“They’re trying to join with us,” I finish for her. We are of the same mind again.

“It’s a trick!” Pawel says from the base of our totem pole.

“My sentiments exactly,” Owen agrees. “No way Rayla says yes to that.”

The SUV door fully opens, and General Pierce, the Commander of the Texas State Guard, emerges. Yellow cloth in hand, he marches right up to the safe house door with all the confidence of Texas.

This man turned on our father. Mira and I both reach for our guns.

“Dad, what are you doing?!” Theo shouts, darting out from behind the pillar. Alexander has exited Owen’s car and is standing at attention, ready to meet the general.