But it’s not Governor Roth we find hiding inside.

It’s Skye Lin.

“You’re dead,” I say stupidly, half lowering my gun, at a complete loss. What is going on?

Her two French braids disheveled, Skye sits on an ornate wingback chair in the center of the plush carpeted room, looking perfectly calm, as if the Common finding her in Roth’s bunker was part of the plan all along.

She’s not handcuffed. There are no cuts or bruises or signs of a struggle. Skye is here willingly.

Our betrayer.

“Where is the governor?!” Alexander shouts at Skye. He scans the extravagant room, a safe house outfitted for nobility—four-poster bed and all—but Roth isn’t here.

“She’s a decoy,” I snap. “Governor Roth was never here.”

A microchipless red herring, focusing the Common’s assault away from where Roth is actually concealed.

I scream and fire my gun into the ceiling, allowing my anger to let loose from the cage I’ve kept it locked inside. If we don’t have Roth, we have nothing.

Pouncing on the traitor—one of our own—I point my gun directly between her eyes. “Why?” I demand. “You spent years locked in a prison cell for the Common’s cause. You killed people for it. And then you betray us. Why?”

“We need to leave now,” Alexander urges me. “We don’t have time for this—we need to find Theo and Mira. We need to find the governor!”

I press the barrel of my gun deeper into the turncoat’s forehead. I’m razor sharp again, ready and able to cut through anything.

Why shouldn’t I be the one doing the hurting this time? This girl’s treachery has caused so much of it. Mira’s and my imprisonment, Roth’s state invasions, multiple Common members’ deaths . . . Payback. Not the primary revenge I desire, but a taste of it.

Rayla said an eye for an eye makes for a blind world, but I’m filled with so much hate that half my sight is already gone.

If my world goes dark in consequence, so be it.

“Your father’s the one who told me it was possible,” Skye finally speaks. She lifts her dark eyes to stare into mine, and I see my pain cast back at me.

“That what is possible?” I ask, my stomach twisting at the mention of my father.

“Three strikes, and a state governor has the power to do what they will with you.” She holds up her hand, counting them off with her fingers. “A low-ranking thief, marked a juvenile criminal, strike one. An inherited genetic disorder I would continue to pass on to future generations, strike two. Displayed sexual interest in the same sex, strike three,” Skye tells me, never breaking eye contact. Her tone’s detached, void of emotion, like she’s talking about someone else’s life. “I was labeled an ‘undesirable candidate’ to bring a child into this used-up nation. I was sterilized, prevented from passing on my bloodline.”

She lowers her three raised fingers, and I lower my gun, my head spinning.

“My cell was next to Darren’s for a week. He talked to me about his love for his twin daughters, and I told him why I wanted to take down the Family Planning Division,” Skye continues. “Darren understood. He told me that my tubal sterilization could be reversed.”

Tubal ligation reversal. It’s tricky and not a guarantee, but Father’s right; it’s possible.

“Governor Roth promised you the surgery?” Alexander asks, her motives for double-crossing the Common plain as day. She wants what the government tells her she can’t have: a child. A family. A right to choose.

“After five years locked in prison holes, Roth comes into my cell, offering a trade: intel for surgery,” she says, bitterness in her low voice. “And I took the traitor’s deal.”

“We’re finished here,” Alexander presses. “We came here for the governor.” Where is Roth now? Where is Mira? But I have to know . . . did Skye succeed?

“Did you get what you wanted in exchange for handing your country over to a man who will destroy it?” I ask.

“I did not,” Skye spits, staring daggers at Alexander. “Every Roth is a liar.”

The edges of Skye’s lips lift into a shadow of a smile. “But your father should be careful what he touches.”

What does that mean? Did she poison Governor Roth, an assassin once more?

“Ava, there are bodies headed your way, from the north and west,” Pawel says, urgent in my ear, bringing me back to my current dire reality inside this bunker.

The sound of boots charging in our direction causes Alexander to turn his weapon toward the door. “Flash!” Alexander challenges. If it’s our side, they should respond, Thunder!

No response.

Skye lifts the barrel of my gun back to her forehead. “Please. Shoot me. I can’t go back to Guardian Tower.”

“Flash!” a voice challenges from the tunnelway. Emery.

“Thunder!” Alexander answers. All at once, Emery’s and Xavier’s teams charge into the bunker, out of breath and weapons raised. They didn’t find Roth either. Emery takes one look at Skye and assesses the situation in a heartbeat, pulling out a pair of handcuffs, biting down on the inside of her cheeks, hard.

“Where’s Mira?” I shout, heart sinking. She and Theo should be here by now.

“We haven’t seen her,” Kipling says, suited up in dark tactical gear and a ball cap. He looks like a stranger without his cowboy hat on. I pull my gun away from Skye’s forehead and rush out into the passage.

Empty. All clear.

“The thermal drone’s picking up two bodies close to the east tunnel entrance,” Pawel says in my ear. Relief crashes through me in a giant wave. Theo and Mira.

But then all the hairs on my body stand on end.

Where are Rayla and Haven?

Did they run into trouble in the mansion? Theirs was the shortest path to the bunker.

“Ava, the drone’s been shot down,” Pawel warns, fear slipping into his voice. “We’re sightless!”

We’re on our own now.

I hear more pounding boots round the east corner, the direction my team entered the tunnel from. But it’s not Mira and Theo—it’s Ciro and Barend. How the hell did they end up to the east?

Roth created a tangled web beneath his lair.

“Is the target captured?” Barend shouts, a pistol in each hand.

I battled my way across the country for the second time in two months to face off with Governor Roth, to take my revenge against the man who shattered my whole life, but right now the only faces I want to see are my family’s. The need to find them suddenly overwhelms me, overpowering my urge to find Roth.

I have to get to my family before he does.

OWEN

The First Lady won’t stop shrieking.

“Is anyone shot?” Rayla shouts, checking on Haven and me.

“No . . . just the bad guys . . . ,” I mumble in my I-just-survived-a-shoot-out stupor.

Those are four very real dead bodies on the floor. I’ve seen my share of dead bodies before tonight, but I wasn’t ever the one responsible for making “people” turn into “dead bodies.”

If we’re keeping tallies, it’s probably two for me. In the span of two hours. I shove that score aside and focus my eye line above the ground.