The ex-governor never leaves me.

Out of nowhere I’m trapped in flash memories of the worst day of my life: Roth shooting Rayla in the head, point-blank. Slipping away in his escape tunnels. Me lying wounded on the rocky ground, doing jack to stop him.

Do not run away, coward!

But he did run. He got past all of us, and took two lives on his way out.

Rayla. Pawel.

Three, including Mrs. Roth. The man’s cold-blooded enough to kill his own wife. And his grandson. Even if Halton’s murder wasn’t by Roth’s own blade.

I sneak a glance to Mira, who has her eyes locked on the ex-governor on the screen. I hope to Whitman that Theo won’t be added to that number.

Fury coils inside my gut. Venomous, like the openmouthed rattlesnake tattooed on my wrist.

The coward won’t escape this time.

Tonight, Roth doesn’t stand a chance.

There’s a plane full of dangerous rebels headed his way—an ex-soldier, three Gluts, a convicted assassin, a most wanted fugitive, a patricidal-minded son, and a Programmer turned battle-hardened Common warrior—every last one of us committed to go down fighting to rid the world of Howard S. Roth.

My tablet peals ding, ding, ding and notifications fill the screen.

Looks like we just got multiple hits.

It must be a big file—the unlocked folders have only been ringing in solo chimes until now.

Hope bubbles up inside me.

T-minus four hours until our long-awaited showdown with Roth. Now’s the time to root out one more cannon-sized knowledge bomb to help us shape our battlefield.

Someone grips my arm, stirring me back to my seat.

I’m trembling.

“Got something?” Ava asks, cat eyes eager.

Play it cool. Don’t get her hopes up.

What if it’s a data gold mine on her dad?

I suddenly rise to my feet, hiding the screen against my chest. I mumble something about a bug and make my bumpy way down the aisle to the back of the plane.

Before cramming myself into the tiny cupboard that’s generously labeled a “restroom,” I throw a furtive look over my shoulder. Ava must have called bullshit on my hasty withdrawal, because she’s homing in on me with a laser focus.

I spring into the restroom and slam the door, quickly discovering there is no lock. Of course not.

Better start scanning, fast.

Immediately I see we’ve hit pay dirt.

The subject line reads: “Project Albatross.”

Before I can double tap the folder and uncover the goods, there’s a pounding knock on the flimsy door.

“Occupied!” I say stupidly.

Ava and Mira barrel right in, the former ripping my tablet from my hands.

Mira shoves the door shut behind her, blocking it with her body, and I’m slammed against the metal wall and sandwiched between the sisters. Ava’s so close I can see the golden flecks in her green eyes.

“Project Albatross is more than just a technology to eradicate the ‘twin gene,’” Ava says, snapping me back to the task at hand. Her uniform’s unzipped, the sleeves pulled down and tied over her waist, exposing her lean arms. Every one of her fine hairs stands on end.

“It’s bigger than I ever thought possible . . . ,” she says. “The Family Planning Division has unlocked the key to human genome editing.”

Her finger flicks my tablet’s screen, scrolling further.

Somehow I’m the only one in this joke of a restroom whose jaw just dropped ten thousand feet to the ground.

“I’m sorry, what now?” I say, awed.

“Was Father involved?” Mira whispers.

“Father was the locksmith,” Ava answers. “He made the discovery.”

“Okay . . . ,” I barge in, trying to fully understand. “So Roth’s making designer babies?” I attempt and fail to keep my voice down. I can’t help but think about the positive. “Could the tech help correct errors in DNA . . . and cure people who suffer from genetic disorders?”

People like my mom.

Decades ago, the government outlawed biotech companies and independent scientists from even reviewing research involved with the modification of human embryos. Let alone actually running human test trials.

But it looks like the Texas Family Planning Division was operating their own experiments in secret labs.

And I thought I was a coder. Their dad was trying to rewrite the code of life.

“Wait, is Roth attempting to make superhumans?” I ask, my brain running a mile a second. “Trying to get a leg up militarily?”

“The tech is capable of all of that, yes,” Mira answers quickly, “but that’s not the most dangerous possibility . . .”

“Genome editing can be used as a bioweapon,” Ava says, shifting her eyes from the screen to me. “The technology opens the door to create pesticide-resistant bugs that could wipe out an entire state’s staple crop . . . or even drug-resistant strains of diseases.”

“With Albatross, you could exterminate whole populations of your enemies,” Mira contemplates, terrified.

“And you could come away with clean hands,” I pick up her chilling line of thinking. “No fingerprints left behind.”

“Roth has Director Wix, I know it,” Mira says, eyes turning into daggers. “She has Father’s technology.”

I mentally slap my hand to my forehead.

Project Albatross is what Roth’s offering to trade the Salazar cartel.

Roth has always considered himself above the law. I mean, the man has the gall to run for the country’s highest office even after his catastrophe of a governorship and his recent crowning as top fugitive on the Wanted List.

But it looks like Roth wants to be more than just the president of the United States.

He wants to play God.

The goosebumps haven’t left Ava’s arms. “This discovery is huge,” she says. “With global repercussions. If Roth trades this technology . . .”

“The world could end?” I finish for her.

No time to dig further into that terrifying thought.

The pilot’s voice crackles over the busted-out speakers, and my ear cuff repeats her welcome announcement in English.

“Buckle up and prepare for landing.”

I grab my tablet from Ava—for a split second I didn’t think she’d give it back—and the three of us split up with the unspoken pact to keep what we just learned to ourselves.

Team Takedown has enough to worry about already.

Back in my seat, I look out the plane’s small window and see the crazy sprawl of the largest and most crowded city on the continent. Over fifty million people, the population of the state of Texas, live inside this megacapital that’s surrounded on all sides by huge, rugged mountains.

I’ve never set eyes on anything like it.

The Salazar cartel controls all of this territory, and Roth is hiding somewhere inside of it, behind their stronghold, which is doubtless harder to penetrate than any border wall.

We’ve got this, I give myself a pep talk. I’ve got this.

Resist much, obey little.

Justice by my own hands.

All of it.

AVA

Lucía sticks her arm out into the bustling street, hailing a pesero. The bright-green-and-gray microbus immediately pulls over to our congested street corner that’s jam-packed with food vendors and distracted commuters. The hordes of people I’m familiar with, but the tacos? They smell like heaven.