Now she couldn’t fathom what would happen next. How long before they figured her out?

She thought of Danna’s butterfly, still trapped inside the jar upstairs. If it ever escaped, then Nova’s secret would be revealed for sure. And there were a thousand other little lies piling up all around her. A thousand signs pointing to Nova. To Nightmare.

How long did she have before they knew?

Before Adrian knew.

She dropped the wristband onto the table and braced her palms against the back of a chair. Eyes closed, she inhaled deeply. Counted to ten. Exhaled.

Then she went upstairs to change. Honey did not speak, so neither did she as she stripped out of Nightmare’s costume, covered in blood and sweat and small shards of glass.

She set her face mask on the vanity, right next to Danna’s butterfly.

She could barely look at either of them.

She had to get Ace out. That was all there was to it. The thought made her want to sob, but she bottled it deep inside. Because if that’s what had to be done, then that’s what she would do. She wouldn’t complain about all the work and planning that had gone into tonight. She wouldn’t think of how everything was wasted. She wouldn’t feel sorry for herself.

She would lift her chin. She would keep fighting.

She went back downstairs, leaving Honey to her solitude. They all wanted solitude. Nova sat down at the kitchen table and stared at the vase of dead flowers, her heart breaking.

It could not all be for nothing. She wouldn’t let the Renegades win. She wouldn’t let the Council get away with their lies, their broken promises.

And she would not be beaten by the Sentinel.

A knock made her jump. She stood and stared at the front door, choking on her heart. She waited for it to be blown in by the forces of an army of superheroes. She pictured Captain Chromium’s fist smashing through the door, leaving it in splinters, or Tsunami’s tidal wave bursting through the window and flooding the house.

But the only attack that came was a second pounding on the door, more determined this time.

Then, Adrian’s voice. “Nova—it’s me. I know you’re awake. Please, let me in.”

Her saliva became sticky inside her mouth.

Adrian.

Sweet, handsome, brilliant Adrian Everhart.

He knew. He must know. How could she face him? How could she stand to see the look in his eyes when he demanded she tell him the truth? When he dared her to lie to him again?

“Nova? Are you home?”

Her gaze landed on the helmet.

Crossing the living room floor, she stooped and picked it up from the dreary carpet and spent a few seconds turning in aimless circles, trying to determine where to hide it. She settled on the coat closet, jamming the helmet in amid Leroy’s trench coat and Honey’s furs.

Inhaling a deep breath, she crossed to the door and gripped the knob. Upstairs, Honey’s sobs had fallen quiet. The entire house felt deserted.

She pulled open the door.

Adrian was a wreck. His bow tie was gone, and his dress shirt was rumpled and covered in smudges of dirt. His gaze latched on to her, haunted and exhausted.

But not accusatory.

She didn’t dare hope.

“Can I come in?” he said, almost meek.

She licked her lips with her sandpaper tongue and stepped inside.

He moved past her and walked straight into the kitchen. Nova held her breath as he passed the closet. The latch, which never closed firmly, clicked. The door drifted open, just a few inches.

Adrian didn’t notice. His movements were sluggish as he pulled back a chair and collapsed into it.

“I’m sorry,” he said when Nova caught up to him. She stayed in the doorway, terrified. That Honey would make a sound. That some of her bees would fly down from the stairwell and start traipsing across the cabinets. That Adrian’s melancholy was an act, meant to lure her into false security. “I know I can’t just keep showing up here but … I needed to talk to someone, and I knew you would be awake, so…” His voice snagged and she noted the bruised circles beneath his eyes, almost hidden by the frames of his glasses.

The night had been long for them both.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “How is your uncle?”

Her heart squeezed.

Captured. Imprisoned. Gone.

But then she remembered the excuse she’d given Adrian when she was leaving the gala—that her uncle hadn’t been feeling well and she needed to go check on him.

“Fine,” she stammered. “He’s fine.”

Adrian was silent for a long time. His gaze was fixed on her across the room and Nova couldn’t tell what the look meant. Was he inspecting her for the truth? Searching for signs of Nightmare?

“Have you heard?” Adrian said. “About … Ace Anarchy? And Nightmare?”

She shivered. “I was just checking my messages. It’s true then?”

He nodded. Folding his hands, he bent over his knees, peering at the cracked linoleum floor. “Yeah, it’s all true. We got Ace, but she got away, and … she took the helmet.” A wry laugh fell from him. “I should have listened to you, Nova. We all should have listened to you. You tried to tell us that it wasn’t secure, but my dads … we were so arrogant about it. And now … now it’s with them.”

Nova dug her fingers into her own thigh to keep from looking back over her shoulder. Toward the closet.

“But we have Ace Anarchy,” said Adrian. “That’s something.” He lifted his head, staring blankly at the wall. “Ruby and Oscar were there when the Council came to collect him. They said they’re already planning to have him neutralized, publicly, when they reveal Agent N to the world. He’ll be their shining example of how necessary Agent N is, and what it can do.”

“When?” Nova whispered. “When will that happen?”

“I don’t know. I doubt they’ll wait long.”

His chin started to quiver, startling Nova. “Did you hear … do you know about Max?”

His voice broke and Nova’s blood ran cold. She saw Max again, the ice spear puncturing his skin, the blood coating the floor.

He was dead. He was dead. He was dead.

And it was her fault, at least in part. Her fault.

“No,” she breathed, not wanting to hear him say it. Not wanting to know the truth.

Adrian extended his arms and Nova couldn’t resist the pull of them. She went to him and he wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his face into her stomach. Tears pricked at Nova’s eyes and though her body tried to rebel at the intimacy of the touch, she couldn’t stop the impulse to cradle his head and shoulders, to hold him closer.

“He’s in the hospital,” he said, as the tears started in force. “She tried to kill him. Nightmare tried to kill him.”

Hospital.

Tried.

“Is he…”

“I don’t know. I don’t know. But he has to live. He has to be okay. If anything happens to him…” His words dissolved. Nova held him, feeling the damp tears through her shirt, the trembling of his shoulders under her fingers.

“He’ll be all right,” she said, willing herself to believe it too. “It’ll be okay.”

“I’m going to destroy her. I’m going to find Nightmare, and I’m going to destroy her.” He curled his fingers into the back of Nova’s shirt, gathering the material into his fists. “Nova … will you help me?”

Grimacing, Nova turned her head toward the front room. Through the doorway, she saw the edge of the coat closet. The dingy wood trim around the doorjamb. The carpet worn nearly to the floorboards beneath.

“Yes, of course I will,” she heard herself say as she stared into the empty eyes of Ace Anarchy’s helmet, glinting at her from the shadows.