And yet—the other prisoners did recognize him. At least, many of them seemed to. She could tell not just by their awestruck silence, but by the way those nearest him gave an almost imperceptible nod as he was dragged past, showing their respect for the man who had once led so many of them into a revolution.

The guards, on the other hand, stood at attention with their hands on their weapons or their fingers outstretched, preparing to call on their powers if needed. They were on edge with Ace in the room, watching him like one would watch a tiger who may or may not have been strong enough to break its leash.

Their fear was unwarranted. Couldn’t they see that? Ace was sick. He was dying.

The guards led him around the bank of tables toward a solitary table set apart from the others. He was only a few tables away from her when Ace’s eyes suddenly flickered with recognition. His gaze met Nova’s and went wide. His foot skidded to a stop, startling the guards beside him.

He gaped at her, and Nova could see the realization crashing through him. She was captured. She was a prisoner, just like he was. Sorrow creased his brow, and Nova felt her own hopelessness well up inside her all over again.

She wanted to apologize—for failing him, again. She wanted to tell him how much she still loved him. That she hadn’t given up.

Ace started to cough. Not a polite cough spurred on by the frigid weather, but a rough, hacking cough that soon had him bent over and struggling to stand. Nova gasped and rose from her seat, but the little plastic fork was suddenly ripped from her hand. In one motion, it flipped over and the brittle tines pressed into her sleeve, holding it against the table. She scowled and grabbed the fork. The handle snapped in two, leaving the tines still driven through the fabric.

She huffed and raised her eyes to see that she wasn’t the only one who had wanted to help Ace. Three of the inmates closest to him had also leaped from their seats. One of them even managed to take hold of Ace’s arm to keep him from slumping forward and hitting his head, before the guards started shouting and shoving them back. Ace was pushed against the wall in the hubbub, and he slid down it, one hand digging into his chest as the coughs dwindled to pained wheezing.

More of the inmates were standing now, yelling back at the guards. Do something. Help him. He needs a doctor.

One of the guards slammed the palms of his hands together and a wave of pressure pushed outward, bowling over everyone in its path. A number of prisoners fell to the ground. One hit his head on a stool. Though Nova didn’t get the brunt of it, the unexpected attack still shoved her back down to her stool.

Only then did the pressure on the fork tines relax. She yanked her arm off the table and plucked them viciously from the fabric.

“What’s wrong with you people?” shouted the man beside her, the one who had known Winston. He had not stood up with the others, but she could see the fury written plain across his face. He gestured toward Ace with his spoon. “He’s not a threat to you, anyone can see that. He needs help!”

“Yeah?” snapped another guard, even as he bent down to grab Ace’s cuffs. He hauled him back to his feet, making a point of not being gentle about it. “He’s killed a lot of people. Who came to help them?”

Nova bit down on the inside of her cheek. She was still gripping the broken fork handle and found herself tempted to leap over the table and stab one of those guards in the eye. She didn’t even particularly care which one.

But movement caught her attention. What was left of the food on her plate was rearranging itself. The bread crumbs, the potato peel, a few strings of what she had come to determine was probably boiled cabbage. They dragged together and twisted into familiar shapes, spelling out a message.

It read, simply, Don’t.

She swallowed and looked up.

Ace wasn’t watching her. If anything, he kept his focus resolutely away from her the whole time he was being dragged through the cafeteria and forced down onto the stool at the lone table.

The warden clapped his hands, three times, loud and slow. “Always one to make an entrance,” he said with a disdainful sneer.

Ace ignored him. He was still breathing hard, half collapsed over his table. The way the nearby guards trained their weapons on him was almost comical.

Until Nova looked down at the word on her plate and remembered that, even in this state, Ace wasn’t helpless.

“I’ve been informed by Renegade Headquarters,” said the warden, “that at the end of this month, we will all be going on a little field trip together.”

A rustle of interest passed through the inmates, coupled with suspicion.

“During this excursion, we expect total cooperation. You will be shackled together for the duration of the trip. You will all have your hands subdued. We have specially designed masks and blindfolds for those of you with abilities that function beyond the limits of your limbs. Special arrangements will be made for those with uniquely unrestrainable talents.” His voice dropped warningly with a glance toward Ace. He might have been glancing at a corpse for all the reaction his words got.

Nova bit the inside of her cheek.

The public reveal of Agent N. The neutralization. Her execution. It was happening, and soon.

“We will be bringing in reinforcements to assist with added security,” the warden continued. “If at any time, any one of you so much as blinks in a way we don’t like”—he paused dramatically, his glower bearing down on them—“we will not hesitate to kill you where you stand.”

No one spoke. No one moved.

“I’ll admit,” said the warden with a smug smile, “I’m sort of hoping some of you will test that promise.” He nodded at the guards and started heading toward the cafeteria exit.

“But where are we going?” one of the inmates asked. “And what for?”

The warden paused, gloating. “You’ll see soon enough. I’d hate to spoil the surprise.”

He left, and the guards wasted no time in hauling Ace back out of the room. Nova’s breaths quickened as she watched him go.

When the door had slammed shut behind them, she sank into her seat, miserable all over again. Lonely and helpless all over again.

Silence hung over the tables as the inmates exchanged baffled, curious looks. A guard barked, “Two minutes! Bring up your trays if you’re done, come on now!”

“Might wanna take some more bites,” her neighbor muttered. Nova snarled and wanted to tell him she’d lost her appetite. But his yellow eyes dropped to the tray and she realized what he meant. The message was still there.

Still holding her fork handle in a death grip, she pushed the food around until the word was unrecognizable.

A few inmates got up and started stacking their trays, but most stayed put, pretending to finish their meals. Nova noticed more of those minuscule gestures happening, almost in tandem now, while the guards talked distractedly among themselves.

She watched the prisoners sourly, wishing she knew what everyone around her was saying.

“Hey,” muttered her neighbor.

“What?” she snapped too loud. A guard glowered their way, before nodding at whatever his peer was saying.

Beside her, the man with the neon eyes took his spoon and tapped the back of it one time on the table next to his tray.

Nova glared. First at the spoon, then at him.

His smile was wide and a little crooked. “Means we’re united,” he said. “Villains to the end.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

“ARE YOU SURE Ruby’s not home?” said Max, keeping so close to Adrian as they made their way down the sidewalk that he kept stepping on the backs of Adrian’s heels.

“Of course she’s not home. I sent her a message two hours ago,” said Adrian. “I wouldn’t put her at risk.”

“Okay, but … what if one of her brothers is secretly a prodigy and no one knows about it yet? Or one of her neighbors? Or—”

“They’re not,” said Adrian. “Her brothers idolize the Renegades. If they’d shown even a hint of superpowers, they would make sure we all knew about it. As for neighbors, once we have you inside the apartment, you’ll be fine. No prodigies are going to come near you, so you won’t have to worry about accidentally stealing powers from them, okay?”

Max said nothing, and Adrian could easily picture his doubtful expression.

“Hey, it’s going to be all right,” said Adrian. He tossed an arm around Max’s neck, pulling him to his side. The boy groaned and struggled, but only half-heartedly. “Ruby’s family agreed to this. No one wants to see you stuck in a quarantine again. And once I discuss it with Hugh and Simon, I’m sure they’ll see reason.”

“They’re going to be so mad.”

“I know. But they’ll get over it. And”—Adrian paused in front of a five-story apartment complex with a rugged brick facade—“here we are. The famous Tucker residence.”

“Famous how?” said Max, warily eyeing the rows of tall windows, the fire escape, the few balconies that were only wide enough to hold a handful of potted plants.

“Because it’s the home of Red Assassin and her twin brother sidekicks. Come on.”

Max followed him into the building and up the first flight of stairs. Aged but elegant wallpaper and lit sconces lined the walls of the narrow hallway. Adrian paused in front of Ruby’s apartment and was about to knock when the door swung open, revealing two identical boys, only a little older than Max. Their faces were bright with excitement, each of them donning the Renegade uniform costumes their mom and grandma had made them for the Sidekick Olympics.

Adrian had finally thought to ask Ruby how to tell the twins apart, and though it took him a moment to remember, her explanation quickly made sense. Jade’s hair was longer and shaggy around the ears, while Sterling kept his cropped a bit shorter. He’d started referring to him as Short Sterling in his head, even though the boys were the same height.

“You made it!” said Jade, while Sterling yelled over his shoulder, “Mom! Grandma! They’re here!”