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“H-how—” I sputtered.

Sam released the gun’s clip. Finding it empty, he tossed it aside and dug out a fresh one from a dead man’s vest. He slammed it in place with a
snick, clack
. “The keypad beeps when you punch in the
numbers. You just have to know which tone comes from which number.”

I stared at him. He’d figured out the combination by listening? While he was being shot at?

“So now what?” Cas said. He and Sam glanced at Dad.

The line of Dad’s Adam’s apple sank as he swallowed, and I wondered if he felt like throwing up, too. “Go ahead,” he said.

I took a step. “Go ahead with—”

Sam pointed the gun at Dad and shot.

A gasp fluttered at the back of my throat and anger set me in motion. I wanted the gun gone before Sam hurt someone else, even though there was no one left but me.

Sam saw me coming, and tossed the gun to Cas, who snatched it easily from the air. I threw a punch, connecting first with Sam’s jaw, then his shoulder, before he grabbed me by the wrists and swung me around. He shoved me into the wall between his room and Nick’s, the bullet-riddled brick piercing my back.

“It won’t be fatal!” he shouted. “He’ll be fine.”

I fought for air but came up short, like I was drowning, like the panic had filled my mouth, my nose. I gulped. Sam tipped my head back and air trickled into my lungs. This was not happening. Those men were not dead. And Dad was not shot. And I was not so close to Sam that I could feel his breath on my face.

I squeezed my eyes closed and inhaled in the controlled way my
instructor had taught me. I never thought I’d need to use the lessons, not like this. Slowly, the hysteria ebbed. Sam righted me, put his hands on either side of my face, and forced me to look at him. I blinked, the edges of my vision fuzzy and smattered with black, but I could see the green flint of his eyes and it reminded me of so many nights spent down here with him.

I thought I could trust him. I thought he was my friend.

“Why did you shoot him?” I choked out. “He never did anything to hurt you.”

“When Connor realizes we escaped, he’ll think your father was harmed in the crossfire. This way he isn’t an accomplice.”

I harnessed what little courage I had left and clenched my teeth. “Then will you shoot me, too?”

He cocked his head and sighed, exasperated. “No,” he answered. Short and sweet. No explanation. I wasn’t sure what that meant, or if I even cared.

He and Cas searched the men lying on the floor, swiping anything else that might be useful. I hurried over to my dad, sidestepping the trail of smeared blood left in his wake. From what I could tell, he’d been hit in the right leg, just above the knee.

I took his hand in mine. “Are you okay?”

He tried to straighten but winced. “Of course.”

“Should I put pressure on it? Or tie something around it?”

“I’m fine. Really.”

I sniffed back a sob. My hands were still shaking. “You’re not fine. None of this is fine.”

The lab door slid open again and Trev and Nick appeared. “Three men out front,” Trev said. “Armed. Looks like they’re waiting for us.”

“So we need to move,” Nick added.

Dad pushed me. “You need to go with them.”

“What?” The word came out a squeak.

Dad called to Sam over my shoulder. “Take her with you. Please. I won’t ask for anything else.”

“I’m not leaving you,” I said.

“Anna. Listen to me.” Dad pulled himself up straighter. “Stay with Sam. Don’t come back here.
Ever
. Do you understand me?”

“I’m not leaving you,” I repeated.

“You can’t be here when Connor comes back. You have to stay away from him.”

“But—”

“Go.” He pushed me and I stumbled. Trev caught me and put a reassuring arm around my shoulders. Nick made a grumbling noise.

“Samuel?” Dad motioned to him and Sam crouched by his side. “Go to 4344 West Holicer Lane, Elk Hill, Pennsylvania. It’s a safe location. Someone will be there to help you.”

Sam nodded and rose to his feet. “Thank you,” he said before ushering us toward the door.

I wrenched myself away from Trev and wrapped my arms around Dad’s neck.

“I’ll find you later,” he said. “I promise. In the meantime, don’t call. It won’t be safe.”

I stood up, trying to obey but paralyzed by the fear of leaving him here like this, of disappearing with someone who had just killed eight people in front of me.

The lab door slid open and clean air filtered out the smell of death and stale gas. I looked back at Dad as we left the lab, until the hallway blocked him from my sight.

7

“GIVE ME THE LAYOUT,” SAM SAID ONCE we reached the top of the stairs.

Trev stuck a gun in the waistband of his pants and pointed at the front of the house. “Picture window in the living room. There’s a man stationed there.” He gestured toward the kitchen. “Man hiding in the garden. Clear shot from the window above the sink. The third is out by the garage.”

I didn’t know Connor had more agents than the ones he’d brought into the lab. Either that, or he’d called for backup. And if they were already here, how long before more arrived?

“Cas, out front,” Sam said. Cas nodded and disappeared down the hallway. I watched him go. The sight of him inhabiting the space
that had been only mine and my dad’s was unsettling. “Nick, take the garage?”

Nick disappeared into the small half bath across the hall.

“I’ll go with Cas,” Trev said, and then waited for Sam’s consent before leaving.

Sam and I went to the kitchen. My stack of schoolbooks sat in the middle of the kitchen table. My unread
Artist’s
magazine lay near the bread box. Dad’s empty coffee cup remained in the sink, unwashed. It all felt surreal.

Planting his hands on the edge of the counter, Sam lithely hoisted himself up. He shoved aside the flour canister and a box of tea, slinking closer to the window above the sink. “Open the back door and call out. Say you need help.”

“But—” He silenced me with a look. And the gun in his hands ended any thought of further protest. I moved to the sliding door, flipped up the latch, and hauled it open. “Help! Please! Someone!”

The man in the garden straightened, placing his eyes firmly on me. The window slid open, the gun slid out, and Sam pulled the trigger. The man’s head bounced back from the impact of the bullet and a new heat spread through me.

Two more shots followed Sam’s. A few seconds later, the boys regrouped in the kitchen. “Clear,” Trev said, and my stomach seesawed. More dead. All of them dead. And I’d helped.

“Where are the files?”

Someone shook me.

“What?”

“Where are the files?” Sam said. “Where did Arthur keep them?”

“Down the hall.” I pointed. “In the study.” I rattled off the code to the filing cabinet, and the boys left me.

I leaned against the sliding door. The man from the Branch lay facedown in the grass. Not breathing. Not moving.
What if he had kids? A wife?
He must have crawled out of bed that morning thinking he’d return home that night to the life he lived. But he wouldn’t. Not now. Because of me.

I felt the guilt of that decision right down to my core.

“Anna,” Sam said from behind me.

“Yeah?”

“We’re leaving.”

I turned to face him. “Did you get the files?”

“They’re gone. Riley must have taken them.”

Numbly, I followed Sam into the hallway. Nick scowled as he pushed past me. Trev and Cas hurried after him, their excitement so thick I could almost feel it. They bounded outside. Sam and I watched them through the screen door of the mudroom.

Cas ran three circles around the garage before dropping to his knees and fake-kissing the cement. Trev looked out over the yard, the woods, the field, taking it in, his hands on his hips.

I stayed where I was, wondering if I could get back downstairs to
Dad before Sam could stop me. Would he stop me? Would Dad be angry?

“We need to go,” Sam said.

I looked toward the basement door.

“Anna,” he repeated, the command stronger the second time.

I put on a jacket and went outside. Trev rummaged around inside one of the Suburbans and came out with a wrapped package for each boy. “Looks like there’s some clothes and a pair of shoes in there.”

Cas tore into his package and the shoes spilled out. “Sweet Jesus, I have real shoes! No more prison loafers!”

Nick snorted, a look of disdain hardening his eyes. “Just throw them on so we can go. Is no one else worried that we’ve been here too long?”

“Calm down,” Trev said. “We’re fine on time.”

“And you know that how?” Nick countered.

Cas donned a white long-sleeved shirt, then shoved his feet into the tennis shoes. The others followed suit, though Sam had found one of my dad’s old flannel shirts hanging in the mudroom and slipped into it without my noticing. It was navy blue with red and white stripes and pearl snaps. It hid the gun at his back.

I hovered between the house and the garage, trying to stay small and inconspicuous, because I wasn’t sure what the plan was or if my having been witness to this escape would become a liability. If it came to that, would Trev stick up for me? Would Cas?

Trev gestured to Dad’s car. “Is that what we’re taking?”

“Who’s driving?” Nick said.

“I’m driving.” Sam pulled the keys from his pocket. He slung a glance my way. “Anna?”

I swallowed. “Who
are
you? How did you know how to use a gun like that? How…” What else had he hidden from me? “Do you really have amnesia?”

The keys clanged together as he let his arm drop to his side. “Yes, but I am not having this discussion with you right now. We need to go.”

Nick grumbled. “Leave her.”

“Hey now,” Cas said. “Disarm the torpedoes, soldier.”

Nick narrowed his eyes.

“I’m coming,” I said. “Just… give me a second. Please?”

Sam sighed. “One minute.”

In my bedroom, I grabbed my mother’s journal from my dresser. I didn’t know where I was going, or even
why
I was going, but if I was leaving with a promise to Dad that I would never return, I wanted to take this book with me. It was the only thing I cherished more than my sketches, and I couldn’t stand the thought of leaving it behind. If anything, it would serve as a link to home.

Back outside, Sam already had the car turned around and facing the road. Never mind the fact that I wasn’t sure if he even had a license. I climbed into the empty front seat and dutifully clipped my seat belt in place, tucking the journal safely in my lap.

Sam eyed it before ripping into drive and stepping on the gas.
When we reached the end of our long gravel driveway, he slammed on the brake. “Which way to town?”

“Right.”

He turned and stomped on the gas again, kicking up dust. I clutched the book, the feel of the worn cover a comfort in my hands. There was a reason the boys had remained in those rooms all those years, but I no longer knew what it was. I’d thought the Branch wanted to make the perfect soldier. If that was the case, then we’d failed. Perfect soldiers don’t kill their commanders.

An ache bloomed behind my eyes as I tried to make sense of it all. If Sam’s treatment had somehow backfired, then why had Dad pushed me to leave? And why had he insisted I get as far away from Connor as possible?

Dad knew something I didn’t. And Sam… a part of me wanted to trust him. He hadn’t killed me. He hadn’t killed Dad, even though he
had
shot him.

“So what’s the master plan?” Cas said, drawing me from my thoughts.

Sam eyed Cas in the rearview mirror. “Ditch the car. Find something new.”

“Are we splitting up?” Trev asked.

“Do you want to split up?”

Trev shrugged and scratched at the back of his head. “It’s harder to track down parts of a whole. But mostly, I’m just glad to be free. So whatever we decide, I’m okay with it.”

“We need to stay together,” Nick muttered.

“Dude.” Cas put his hands on the back of my seat and leaned forward. “When I saw Connor show up with all his lackeys, I thought for sure your plan was toast.”

I swiveled around. “You were
planning
to escape?”

Sam didn’t say anything. Didn’t even look at me. I stared at him, mouth agape. I’d told him about Connor’s visit. I’d prepared him for the escape. What if I hadn’t said anything? If I could, would I change it?

Only a foot of space separated Sam and me. Being with him in the outside world was what I’d always wanted, but not like this. A flash of the lab, the blood, and the dead agents came back to me and my stomach clenched.

“When were you planning to escape?”

“Next week,” Cas said. “During Sam’s blood draw.”

My eyes widened. Would I have been the one on the wrong side of a bullet? “What about the gas?”

“Straws,” Cas said.

I frowned.

“He taped several together,” Cas explained. “Ran them through the vents between the room and the bathroom. You might have noticed his bathroom door was shut? That’s because he sealed it off. Gas goes on, Sammy goes down and pretends to be out, but really he’s using the straws like a snorkel.”

“You really did that?” He didn’t answer, but it didn’t matter. It all made sense now. It was why he’d been asking for straws, and why
he’d asked for a roll of tape last night. I hadn’t bothered to get it back from him.

I’d supplied him with the tools for escape and intervened when Connor tried to stop him. I was as much a fugitive now as they were. Maybe that’s why Dad sent me away—to escape certain punishment.

God. I was such an idiot. I’d thrown everything away for Sam. For a boy. I’d thought I was on his side. And hadn’t I considered breaking him out a few nights ago, during our chess match? Somehow it didn’t feel as good as I thought it would. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

“Brilliant, huh?” Cas said and patted Sam’s shoulder. “I knew there was a reason I kept you around.”

“As if you had other options?” Sam asked.

Cas shrugged a shoulder before dropping back into his seat. “I’m just saying.”