Nova stared, not sure if she understood. “So … you’ve tattooed a tower on your arm, in an experimental attempt to … do what, again?”

“Well, if it works,” said Adrian, flashing her a cheeky grin, “it will be sort of like giving myself another superpower. In theory, I’ll be able to use it to create a barrier around myself and anyone who’s near me, that will deflect attacks from other prodigies.”

She leaned against the window. “That’s … an interesting theory.”

He cleared his throat uncomfortably, and Nova had the distinct impression that there was something he wasn’t telling her. “I guess we’ll see how it goes. It should be healed enough to test out in another day or two.”

“You don’t seem all that concerned that maybe you’ve just tattooed a medieval castle on yourself for no real reason.”

He chuckled, and he seemed to want to say something, but she could sense his uncertainty. Finally, he answered, “Well, also, tattoos make a guy look tough, don’t they?”

She laughed. “Sure they do.”

The roar of the engines suddenly quieted. Nova was startled to see that they were already at the dock. The fog had mostly cleared, revealing the buildings along the pier and the skyscrapers beyond. The sun had peeked over the horizon, its beams slashing through the lingering mist.

She clutched her bouquet of flowers and followed Adrian off the boat. She realized with a swell of disappointment that none of the figures she’d seen loitering on the dock had been the so-called families she’d imagined. They were all strangers—a Renegade administrator who asked her to sign a form stating she was returned safely to the mainland following her release, a dockworker who set about mooring the boat, and the media.

A few dozen journalists and photographers were gathered, already snapping pictures of Nova and screaming questions that quickly blurred into nonsense.

Adrian placed a hand on her lower back, steering her past the crowd. “You don’t have to talk to them,” he murmured in her ear, and Nova wondered just how many newspapers and tabloids would carry this picture in the coming days. Adrian Everhart whispering into the ear of the girl who was previously suspected of being Nightmare herself … not to mention the yellow daisies. She flushed, doing her best to ignore the yells behind her—Nova! Miss McLain! Insomnia!

“We have a car over there,” said Adrian, pointing to a small parking lot, as they made their way past the rows of moored boats, their wooden hulls thumping hollowly against each other in the water.

But just as Adrian was steering Nova toward the lot, an unfamiliar figure stepped out from a waiting taxicab on the other side of the street. “Nova!” he cried, rushing toward her. “Oh, thank heavens!”

Nova froze, frowning not so much at the man, but at the way he’d said her name. Like he knew her.

She scanned his face. He must have been in his late fifties, with salt-and-pepper hair and an unkempt beard. He was dressed in jeans and loafers and a sweater that was tattered and faded and almost certainly not warm enough for the weather.

Nova was sure she’d never seen him before.

She tensed, one hand reaching for the stun gun at her belt, only to remember how she’d tossed all her weapons into the duffel bag and sent it off in the trunk of Leroy’s car.

As soon as he reached her, the man grasped Nova’s hand affectionately. His skin was leathery, feeling much older than his features suggested. “I’m so relieved,” he said. “I thought I’d never see you again!”

To her surprise, there were tears in his gray-blue eyes.

Perhaps reading Nova’s bewilderment, Adrian took hold of her elbow, gently tugging her closer to him. “I’m sorry, you are…?”

“Her uncle,” said the man, beaming and holding out a hand for Adrian to shake. “You must be Adrian.”

Nova stiffened. Her uncle?

When Adrian hesitantly accepted the handshake, the man pumped it with enthusiasm. “She’s told me so much. Never stops talking about you. It’s so great to finally meet you face-to-face. And on such a happy occasion!” His smile grew wider, and before Nova could fully grasp what was happening, he had his arms around her.

Nova’s power surged to the surface of her skin, tingling with the temptation to nullify this threat, to knock him out before he could harm her. But he wasn’t hurting her, if that was his intention. Rather, he was embracing her like …

Well. Like family.

“Uncle?” she tried.

He pulled away, but kept his hands on Nova’s shoulders. “I tried to come visit after they took you away, but all our papers were destroyed in the explosion and I had no way to prove who I was. They didn’t believe me. And with them thinking you were that … that villain…” He spat the word, his nostrils flaring with disgust. “They had you under so much security, there was no way they would let me get close to you. I’m so sorry. It’s been killing me to think of you in there, all alone. I didn’t want you to think I’d abandoned you, but I couldn’t—”

“It’s okay,” she stammered. “I’m fine. I’m—” She glanced at Adrian. “I’m free, now.”

“I know. I couldn’t believe it when I heard, but at the same time, I knew this would all be sorted out. I knew they couldn’t go on believing those lies about you forever, not after everything you’ve done for them.” Releasing her shoulders, he returned his focus to Adrian. “I was so proud of her when she went to the trials and got chosen. Being a Renegade’s been a lifelong dream of hers.”

Adrian smiled, the wariness in his expression slowly fading. “We’ve been lucky to have her. I can’t possibly express how sorry we all are about this mistake. Nova deserved better from us.”

“It’s all in the past.” Reaching out, the man patted Nova on the top of her head, and she couldn’t resist snarling and ducking away. “Come on. Let’s get you home so you can have a rest. Well … not home, obviously. The explosion and all. But I’ve rented us a decent little apartment that’ll do until we can figure something out. It’s not so bad. We’ll make do, just like we always have.”

“The Renegades could provide you with temporary housing,” Adrian suggested. “It’s the least we could do, considering…”

“No, no,” said the man. “That’s very generous, but there are people in this city who need the charity more than we do. Thank you so much, but my Nova and I will be just fine.”

He started to guide Nova toward the waiting taxi, but Adrian calling her name made her pause and turn back.

He looked suddenly shy, his breaths fogging the air between them. He seemed to struggle with words he wasn’t sure how to say, while Nova waited, her heart tumbling. The world dimmed—the city, the journalists, her false uncle—everything vanishing but for Adrian and his nervous stare boring into her.

“It was always real for me, too,” he finally said, his voice barely a whisper. “I hope you know that.”

Nova shivered. Before she could talk herself out of it, she thrust the bouquet of flowers at the strange man, then closed the distance between herself and Adrian. She reached her arms around his neck, pulling him to her. Cameras flashed and journalists peppered them with eager, prying questions, but Nova barely noticed them over the sense of fullness that was coursing through her body, from her flushing cheeks to her happily curling toes. All she cared about was conveying in this moment, with this kiss, what she might never have another chance to say.

This was real. In spite of everything, her feelings for Adrian Everhart were real, and she was going to keep this moment pinned inside her heart for the rest of her life. No matter what the future held, she would cherish this kiss, and his words, forever.

Adrian was beaming when she pulled back. Nova allowed herself the luxury of cupping his face in her ice-cold hands and memorizing that smile, those eyes, those elusive, precious dimples.

Then she slipped out of his arms and peeled his coat from her shoulders. Even without it, the heat from the kiss lingered, warming her from the inside out. “Thank you,” she said, handing it back to him and hoping he knew she meant for more than just the coat. “I guess I’ll see you at headquarters.”

Adrian nodded, still grinning. “See you there.”

Without meeting the eye of her pretend uncle, Nova took back her flowers and headed across the street to the cab.

She sank into the back seat and waited for the door to shut before rounding on the stranger. “Who are you?”

The man smirked as he started to pick lint from his sweater. “A mighty fine actor, if I do say so myself. Though, perhaps, not as good as you.” He shot her a suggestive look.

But Nova didn’t care about her red cheeks or erratic pulse or whether or not this man thought the kiss had been an act. “Answer the question.”

“If you don’t like ‘Uncle,’ then you can call me Peter. Peter McLain.”

Her teeth ground, but the man pressed on.

“And I do believe I just secured the rest of your story. Strangely missing uncle—found. That should silence the rest of your doubters, at least for a while. You’re welcome.”

She gawked at him, simultaneously annoyed and a little impressed. He was right. At some point Adrian and the Renegades would have raised questions about the uncle who had never once come for her after she’d been arrested. The uncle who no one had ever met.

“Okay,” she said, “but who are you?”

“He’s an ally.”

Starting, she peered toward the front, as the driver pushed aside the plexiglass window that divided them. She caught his eyes in the rearview mirror, the skin around them mottled and scarred, the eyebrows long ago burned away. Her heart leaped. “Leroy!”

He beamed at her. “Welcome back, little Nightmare.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

NOVA’S SO-CALLED UNCLE was not staying in a shabby, rented apartment, and neither, it turned out, were the rest of the Anarchists.