“You’re not a villain!” said Danna.

Adrian hardly heard her, though. Oscar’s words struck Adrian harder than he’d probably intended. Or, one word in particular. One word Adrian’s own mind had been dancing around, refusing to stop and contemplate all it would mean.

Nova was—

No. Nova was not innocent. She couldn’t be. Not after everything. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the thought before it could take hold. There was too much evidence stacked against her, but now, somehow, the evidence that had seemed so damning hours before struck him as … what was the word Nightmare had used? Circumstantial.

What proof did they really have?

Was it possible they’d been wrong?

Innocent.

If this was true, if they had the wrong Nightmare … then Nova was innocent.

But that also meant they’d failed to capture Nightmare, the real Nightmare.

She was still out there, taunting them, taunting him. The mystery wasn’t solved. She remained at large, a danger to society and the organization and everyone he cared about. This was terrible news. This was a mortifying mistake. This was another black spot on the Renegades’ record.

And yet his chest was expanding with every passing moment.

“How can we know for sure?” he whispered, interrupting an argument between Danna and Oscar that he hadn’t been listening to. “How can we prove that Nova’s not Nightmare, that the real Nightmare is still out there?”

Danna rubbed her forehead. “Let’s not get carried away. I know you want this to be real, all of you do, but—”

“Oh, I forgot to mention one more thing.”

They all jumped at the clip of Nightmare’s voice coming from above them.

“Sweet rot,” muttered Oscar, a phrase he’d almost certainly picked up from Nova, which made Adrian’s heart ache all over again. Pointing his cane, he yelled, “I wish you’d stop doing that!”

Sitting on the railing of the second floor, not far from the escalator, Nightmare ignored him. “Go ahead and execute Ace Anarchy, if you really think it’s going to make a difference, killing a weak, defenseless old man all for the sake of your popularity ratings. You Renegades do what you think is best.” She reached for something tucked behind her and held it up. She was met with a collective gasp from Adrian and his team.

Ace Anarchy’s helmet.

“Oh, you recognize this?” she chirped. “Then you’ll know that we don’t need Ace anymore. We already have everything we need to destroy you.”

With that, she kicked her legs back to the other side of the railing and walked away. It wasn’t long before the drum of her boots was silenced as she vanished into another mirror.

The sound was almost immediately followed by sirens blaring from outside. Adrian was momentarily confused, before he remembered the burglars, the arrest, the extraction crew coming to take the criminals to prison.

He didn’t care about any of that.

Hope and clarity swelled inside him.

Nova was innocent.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

INNOCENT.

She was innocent.

According to the Renegades, Nova Jean McLain was innocent.

Nova’s emotions fluctuated every few seconds, from elation to disbelief to the absolute certainty that this was a trap. No one had told her what had been uncovered. What new evidence had been found to prove her sudden innocence. She racked her brain to think what false evidence the Anarchists might have planted to lead the Renegades to this conclusion, but she could think of nothing that made sense. Not after they’d all been so certain of her guilt. Not with the truth hovering over her head that she was, in fact, guilty.

And yet, here she was, being handed a box with her original clothes and boots and told she was free to leave. The same guard who had first embedded the small tracker between her shoulder blades used an even more painful device to extract it. Nova gritted her teeth and didn’t complain.

They gave her a thick wad of gauze and a mint.

Was this a trick?

This time, she was left alone to change. Exhaling through her nostrils, she pulled on her clothes, then rapped on the door to let them know she was ready.

Two more guards were posted at the exit, though they ignored her as she was led by. She listened to the bolts clank and the gears rumble inside the massive walls. She watched the gate open and the two Cragmoor guards walked her out into the blustering, frigid sea air. The guards were armed, as always, but this was the first time that Nova had been outside her cell without her hands being cuffed. The guards didn’t say much. One of them, a female with inky-black eyes that showed no sign of whites to them, very nearly smiled. “We will escort you all the way to the dock,” she said.

She seemed borderline apologetic, though not apologetic enough.

Could it be a trick?

Nova’s hands kept twitching to touch the guards and put them to sleep before they could lead her into whatever trap was waiting, but she held back the urge.

Because what if this was real? What if her name had really been cleared?

And if so … how?

Her skin prickled with gooseflesh, in part spurred by the wind that threw her bangs into her face, but also by the anticipation of an ambush. Maybe her execution was to come early. Maybe they didn’t want it to be public after all. She almost expected a bullet in her back at any second, but when she glanced up at the guard towers posted to either side of the gate, she saw their rifles pointing toward the sky. One of them gave her a salute, without expression. The other was focused on the choppy waves of the sea and the hazy fog that hid the distant city skyline from view.

The small island felt like it was a part of another universe entirely, and the sensation chilled Nova to her core.

The small terrain vehicle took her and her entourage back down to the dock, where an armored boat rocked in the turbulent water, where the same captain and set of guards who had delivered Nova to this island now waited to take her back.

And then she saw him.

He was waiting on the dock, a heavy wool coat, a black knit cap, jeans.

Adrian Everhart, looking too good to be true in this dank, dreary place.

In his left hand was a bouquet of flowers—the most vivid sunshine-yellow daisies Nova had ever seen in her life. In his right hand was a tool belt similar to the one Nova had worn over her Renegade uniform.

Nova didn’t realize she’d stopped walking until the guard with the black eyes politely cleared her throat. Nova started down the uneven wooden steps, past the jagged black rocks that shone with gathered mist, their surfaces studded with barnacles and kelp.

She came to stand in front of Adrian, her hair becoming damp from the spray, the taste of salt on her tongue.

“Flowers or weaponry?” said Adrian, holding his gifts toward her. “I wasn’t sure which would make for a better apology.”

Nova’s attention dipped to the daisies, then to the belt, before regarding Adrian again. Though his tone had been cheerful, she could see the anxiety underneath.

“I’m assuming your inventions were destroyed in the explosion,” he said. “I thought maybe a new tool belt could be a … new beginning?”

His hands drooped when Nova still didn’t take his offerings. “I’m sorry,” he said, with the full weight of a thousand apologies. “I should have believed you. I should have trusted you. I failed you when you needed me to be an advocate, and I know that officially makes me the worst boyfriend in the history of the world, and as much as I want to make it up to you, I will understand if you don’t want to have anything to do with me. But if … if you can possibly forgive me, then I will do everything I can to make this up to you. I know I can’t change what you’ve been through, but … I still care for you, Nova. I never stopped caring for you, and I realize what an incredible jerk I was. I’m mortified when I think of the things that I said to you, the way I treated you in there … how I didn’t stand up for you, not once, even when you kept insisting you weren’t Nightmare. I should have…” He grimaced and shook his head. “I should have believed you. I’m so, so sorry.” He hesitated, his eyes shining with words still left unspoken.

He was met with silence. Wind gusts. Sea spray.

Finally, he whispered, “Please say something.”

Nova swallowed. “Where’s my bracelet?”

Adrian’s shoulders sank, as if this were the very question he’d been hoping she wouldn’t ask.

“It was given to Magpie,” he said, and Nova had the distinct impression he was dodging liability. “I’m sure she turned it in at headquarters.”

One of Nova’s eyebrows shot upward. She was equally sure that the little thief had kept it for herself.

No matter. She could deal with that later.

“Did you draw the flowers?” she asked.

Adrian shook his head. “Bought them with actual money, at an actual florist.”

“Hmm.” Reaching forward, Nova took the belt from him and snapped it around her hips. “Well, this is the better apology. But…” She snatched the flowers away. “I’ll take these, too.”

He grinned, but it was fleeting. “You’ll see there’s another gift there,” he said, indicating a pouch on the belt. “From the Council, actually.”

With a twinge of suspicion, Nova opened the pouch and pulled out …

A metal face mask.

Not her metal face mask, but one that was similar enough that it immediately set her palms to sweating, and her mind returning to that refrain—It’s a trap!

She wondered how much Adrian must hate her to have agreed to be part of such a cruel ambush. But his expression stayed sincere and warm.

She trained her focus on the mask again and flipped it over a few times. It was larger than Nightmare’s mask, with parallel slits in the front and small filtering chambers that would rest against her cheeks.

“It’s a gas mask,” said Adrian. “Kind of a crude design, but they didn’t want to delay the manufacturing of them. Every patrol unit is being equipped with these going forward, you know, after Nightmare got her hands on Agent N and made those gas bombs.”