Cursing, Nova chased after it. The butterfly dipped downward. Nova lunged, arm outstretched, fingers straining.

The butterfly was flying straight for the window. Bees were clouding in around it, having noticed new prey in their midst.

The butterfly shot through the opening.

Nova dove. One knee on the window’s ledge, one hand barely catching the frame to keep from falling, one outstretched hand crushed into a fist.

She hung there, motionless but for her erratic breaths. Though wasps and hornets surrounded her, and some even dared to perch on her knuckles and inspect her squeezing fingers, there were no stings.

Trembling with adrenaline, Nova pulled herself back into the bedroom.

Dazed, Nova looked down to see one hive with a footprint shoved into its papery shell in the center of the room. She’d moved so fast, she hadn’t even noticed stepping on it. The bees who had called it home were swarming around, enraged, their buzzing deafeningly loud, but they were not the insects that worried her.

Exhaling, Nova pried open her fingers.

The butterfly’s wings were broken. Its hairy, speckled body was still twitching.

Stomach roiling, she dropped the creature to the floor. It was set upon instantly by the waiting bees.

There would be nothing left of it.

She dusted the powder from her hands. Her body was trembling.

This butterfly was dead, and while Danna wouldn’t retain the memories of what it had seen, there were hundreds of other butterflies that would be able to re-form now, to tell what they might have uncovered. What else had Danna learned from following Nova, before this one had been captured?

Nova’s heart ricocheted inside her chest. She felt hollowed out. Terrified.

She didn’t know if Narcissa or Danna would inform the Renegades first, but it didn’t really matter. Nova knew one thing for sure.

She was out of time. Danna could become human again at any minute. Maybe she already had.

How long before everyone knew the truth?

“Leroy! Honey!” she yelled, rushing back down to the ground floor. “I hope that explosive you talked about is ready to go. We need to leave, now.”

Leroy and Honey were both standing amid the broken glass in the front room. Leroy was examining the rock that had been thrown through the front window.

Snarling, Honey shook her head. “A plain old rock,” she said, aghast. “It’s practically amateur hour around here.”

“Did you hear me?” said Nova, her voice tinged with panic. “The butterfly is dead. If Monarch hasn’t already re-formed, she will soon. I’m not sure how much she knows, but…” She trailed off.

“But it’s almost certainly enough to incriminate you,” said Leroy, dropping the rock. It landed with a heavy thunk on the carpet. “And lead back to all of us. Worst-case scenario, they’ll be here in … ten minutes?”

“Sooner if they send the nearest patrol unit,” said Nova. “Maybe longer if—if the Council makes this a personal priority. But not by much.”

Leroy nodded. “I’ll set the explosive and be ready to detonate at the first sign of the Renegades approaching. Take only what we need. Don’t worry about leaving evidence behind—nothing will be recognizable when I’m done with it.”

CHAPTER TEN

THE LAST TIME Adrian had raced across the rooftops of Gatlon City in the Sentinel’s armor, he had been carrying Max, half dead, in his arms. He was only slightly less panicked now. Ruby’s message had been so emphatic, and so utterly lacking in explanation. He had immediately responded, desperate to know why she was summoning the team, but there had still not been a response.

So he ran.

Or, jumped.

Some might even say he flew. It was the closest he would ever come, at least until he could figure out how to tattoo wings onto his own back.

The springs tattooed on the soles of his feet propelled him forward, soaring over streets and skyscrapers. He wasn’t being particularly discreet, but he’d found that not many people in the city stopped to look up, and if they did, he hoped they might think the glint of his armor was nothing but an illusion in the midday sun. Even if they did recognize the infamous vigilante, he would be gone long before anyone could think to stop him.

Ruby lived with her family in a three-bedroom apartment in the Shademont neighborhood. To a lot of people in the city, three bedrooms would have seemed spacious, but for Ruby’s family it was still crowded quarters, between Ruby and her twin brothers—Sterling and Jade—along with both her parents and her grandmother. Adrian couldn’t recall ever hearing Ruby complain about sharing a bedroom with the boys, who would be twelve in a few months, but he had also never questioned why she didn’t invite the team to her place to hang out. On the rare occasions when they’d met up at someone’s house, it had always been Adrian’s.

He was panting by the time he landed on the rooftop of her apartment building, his breaths fogging the inside of his helmet. One last leap, and he landed with a shattering thump in the alleyway below. A stray cat yowled and hissed at him before fleeing around a corner.

He slapped a hand to his chest and the suit retracted, folding in on itself until he could tuck it under the skin over his sternum. He had taken to wearing long-sleeve T-shirts with three buttons at the neck, easy access for the suit, and he fumbled to secure the buttons now as he moved toward the front of the building. His legs always felt a little wobbly after all the jumping, but he ignored them.

He was steady again by the time he reached the Tuckers’ apartment on the second floor. The door opened before he could knock. Not Ruby, but her grandmother, a petite woman with streaks of gray in her once-ginger hair. Her hands were curled from arthritis, which Ruby had mentioned as being a result of years in the jewelry trade, using her fingers for the smallest, most detail-driven tasks. Still, she had a poise and strength to her expression that Adrian had admired from the first time he’d met her.

“They’re in the children’s room,” she said, stepping back to let him in. “Last door on the left.”

He thanked her and hurried down the hall. The door was cracked open and he could hear voices inside—her brothers yipping excitedly, and Ruby shushing them, sounding frantic.

Adrian opened the door. The twin boys, seated together on the upper mattress of their bunk beds, stopped talking immediately to gawp at him. Oscar was there, too, his legs also dangling from the top bunk, his cane hooked on one of the rungs of the ladder. At first Adrian was surprised that Oscar might have beat him there, until he remembered that Oscar lived not far away, whereas he had to come miles from the hospital.

“The slacker finally shows up,” said Oscar, beaming.

That smile helped calm Adrian’s racing heart.

He stepped into the room. Ruby sat on the foot of the twin bed that was parallel to the bunks. The only other furniture that fit into the room was a tall dresser and a little desk that had been crammed into the space between the beds.

And there was one other person, lying on Ruby’s bedspread.

“Danna!” he yelled, striding the whole two steps it took to reach her side.

She was unconscious, though it was a fitful sleep, her eyelids twitching and small beads of sweat dotting her forehead. She was wearing her Renegade uniform, her blonde dreadlocks spread across the pillow. “Where did she … How?”

“I don’t know,” said Ruby. “She’s been staying with me ever since we found Ace Anarchy, you know, in swarm mode.”

Adrian nodded. The butterflies had become Ruby’s shadow since the night Danna had led them to the catacombs where they had discovered Ace Anarchy.

“And I was just sitting here, about to start getting ready for patrols tonight. The butterflies were everywhere, hanging out, like they’ve been, when out of nowhere they all started to swirl around—you know how she does that cyclone thing?—then she re-formed. She looked terrible, all tired and shaky. And kind of spooked. She said, ‘Call Adrian, just Adrian.’ I know she wanted to say more, but then she collapsed.”

“She is a master at making a bold entrance,” said Oscar.

“Mom thinks she’s just hungry,” said Sterling—or was it Jade? Adrian hadn’t figured out how to tell them apart yet. He would have to ask Ruby if they had a tell.

“Or dehydrated,” added the other.

Adrian crouched next to Danna. “She’s probably never been in swarm mode for so long. It must take a toll on her body.” He gave Danna’s hand a squeeze. “Why me? And what is Oscar doing here then?”

Ruby shied away, mildly bashful. “Well, I couldn’t not call Oscar. But I sent the message to you first.”

“Here we go!” said Ruby’s mom, bustling into the room with a wooden tray in her hands.

“Yes,” said Oscar. “Refreshments!”

Mrs. Tucker cast him a withering look. “These are for Danna. But that’s a good point—Jade, Sterling, why don’t you go grab some snacks for our guests?”

The boys didn’t bother with the ladder, just jumped down to the floor and raced from the room.

Oscar beamed after them. “I love this family.”

Ruby’s mom set down the tray, which held a bowl of broth, some bread, a large glass of water, and a damp washcloth. “Any change?” she asked, putting the cloth on Danna’s brow.

“I’ll do that, Mama.” Ruby took the washcloth from her and tended to Danna, her face twisted with worry. “Is it weird that she’s so … twitchy? I mean, people don’t usually dream when they pass out like this, do they?”

“I don’t know,” said Adrian, frowning at the way Danna’s chest rose sporadically.

“She’s been through an ordeal,” said Mrs. Tucker. “But she’s a Renegade. She’ll pull through. And I must say, I won’t miss having our butterfly friends crowding up the apartment anymore. She’s always welcome, but it was a little disconcerting.” She winked. “I’m going to leave the tray here. You let me know if anything changes.”