Bide your time. Play it cool. Wait for another window.

I tell myself I’m going to just rest my eyes but keep on the lookout for movement, in case Ava gets up to find a glass of water or something and I can follow her. But in a rookie move, I must’ve fallen asleep, because next thing I know, I jolt awake.

Shit.

I raise myself up on an elbow and scan the room.

By a single lantern’s light, I clock the crown of Ava’s red head sandwiched between Mira and Haven in her sleeping bag. Awesome. How am I supposed to get her attention when she’s fast asleep?

Over by the stairs, Barend’s passed out but appears to be cuddling a . . . Is that a pillow? Wait, where’s Ciro?

My eyes search the basement high and low, but nope, he’s nowhere to be seen. Ciro’s gone.

Inspiration hits. I shimmy out of my sleeper, careful not to wake Blaise, who snores so freakishly loud it sounds like he’s sawing wood, or Alexander, who’s got a firm grip on the Whiz’s bony leg, and tiptoe over to Ava’s side of the room. I stand there next to the freezers for a few winks, thinking Ava might sense my presence.

I know back at the mansion, Ava never slept. Most nights, we’d meet up at her favorite lookout spot on the fringes of the capital. We’d sit inside the burnt-out shell of a high-rise, dangling our feet. We wouldn’t even talk most times—it was more to not be alone in the night.

We helped each other avoid the nightmares.

It’s highly possible she’s awake now, waiting for me to make some kind of move.

I pick my way to the exit door, hoping she’ll follow.

I hang around the hallway outside the basement door, praying to Whitman it opens.

Ava makes me sweat it out for what feels like an eternity, but then suddenly my heart’s in my throat when I see the door handle twist and her svelte figure emerge.

I break into a smile, dimples and all, and move toward her. Maybe I didn’t blow it after all.

“I don’t know what you’re grinning about,” Ava says nonchalantly. “I just came out here looking for the bathroom.”

My smile dies, along with my confidence.

“Oh . . . ,” I sputter, taking a step back.

Ava smirks, all sly, then ties on her camouflage shemagh, heading for the staircase labeled “Roof Access.”

She’s suddenly got jokes. Am I somehow rubbing off on her?

I pull my bandana up just shy of my eyes and follow Ava to the stairwell.

On the climb, a sense of finality drops on me like the heavy blade of a guillotine. I bite down on my lips, keeping my thoughts strictly to myself.

I don’t want Ava to know I’m terrified.

Terrified that I’ve got it all wrong . . . The Whiz kid is just a regular kid and I’m just a punk kid who’s bound to mess it all up. I’m terrified that I’m going to fail, let everyone down, and these are our last minutes together because I’m choosing to launch my own mission and, after this, I’ll never see her again.

Ava throws open the metal door to a sky ablaze in the light of magic hour.

Good, I could use a bit of magic.

We move to the edge of the roof, savoring the view. The entire skyline is an eruption of neon orange that casts a soft light across Ava’s face, making her eyes glitter like emeralds.

Last I checked, Ava’s bounty was hovering around five million, but what Ava has is priceless. Don’t the Loyalists realize that?

Hope shines from her like a power source.

Just standing next to her as we bask in the peaceful sunset, I feel calm, yet energized. Neither of us says a thing. Usually silence makes me skittish—quick to fill in the dead air with the sound of my voice—but with Ava, when we’re together like this, alone, it’s different. Like I don’t have to speak a word and she understands me.

The fiery sun melts below the western horizon when Ava finally whispers, “Goodbyes feel too final.”

She takes her eyes off the downtown skyline, a quarter the size of Dallas, to face me. “Back before all of this, when we were still in hiding . . . every time Mira and I would separate and face another dangerous day, we would always tell each other, See you soon. Never goodbye.”

Before I can stop myself, I reach out and graze the tips of my fingers against hers, wondering if there will ever come a time when her hand itches for mine instead of some weapon.

Not for the first time in my life, I question whether hate is stronger than love. Will Ava ever feel anything other than the drive for retribution while Roth is still out there alive? Will I?

She doesn’t pull her hand away.

“I still don’t agree with your choice to not come with me,” Ava says, staring straight into me. “But I’m trying to respect it.”

“Ava . . . ,” I say. “I just have to.”

I swallow a deep breath and start to tell her all the details of my mission, but she slips her hand away from mine, holding up her palm to stop me.

“No—don’t tell me anything. Not where you’re going. Not even exactly what it is you think you’re searching for.”

My mask and cap do nothing to hide my hurt at her sudden detachment. This close up, she can see it in my eyes. It’s like that, then? You really care so little about me?

“Of course I care,” Ava says, quick to decode my thoughts. “Of course I do . . . It’s just, once we cross the border, I don’t know what will happen to me or my team. If the State Guard or the Salazars’ sicarios get us—”

“That won’t happen—”

“If they do, I don’t want them to learn about your mission from me.”

I shut down the terrible thought of Ava being tortured by the cartel.

“If Mira and I go down,” Ava continues, dropping her voice to a whisper, “and if you’re right about the Whiz Kid, and what could be on those servers . . . then at least one of us can succeed. One of us can stop him.”

For the love of everything Common, I better be right.

Ava cracks every one of the knuckles of her right hand, a habit of hers that makes the snake tattoo on her forearm slither—on the move, like she wants to be.

Dodging my eyes, she whips out a folded chunk of paper. I’m glad once again for my bandana, because I can’t help but smile. Is this the goodbye note?

“See you soon,” Ava tells me.

Before I can reciprocate her words, twin bombs explode three blocks away. The blast nearly blows my eardrums.

Holy Whitman, is the Guard here?!

Like second nature, my hand goes for my gun, flicking off the safety.

Boom!

Between the sounds of explosions, I think—just for a split second—of myself. Why does bad news—disaster—always seem to follow when Ava and I are together? Two nights in a row now. Might be a good thing we’re splitting up.

Boom!

Next thing I know, we’re both knocked flat on our asses, and I see stars.

AVA

A blast wave slams Owen and me to the rocky rooftop.

Splayed out on top of Owen, I jerk my attention away from him to the sky but find no airplanes with the five-pointed Lone Star on their tail wings. Just cotton-like cumulous clouds drenched a goldenrod orange by the setting sun.

This isn’t an aerial attack. Has the State Guard penetrated into Austin’s city limits on foot? No, the Common Guard would have sounded an alarm.