“You’re welcome, Eames Ahlberg,” I say.
He steps back, holding out a hand to Piper. She takes it, glancing at me.
“I’ll read thoseFoal Patrolbooks,” she says.
I dissolve into a laugh. “Hoofbeats of justice.” I hold up a hand, watching as the two run for the basement stairs.
Just before he rounds the corner, Eames looks back at me. He nods and I return it.
Then he’s gone.
And I’m alone by a pool with only a half-conscious hacker for company. A breath shudders out of me, and I realize I’m shivering. It could be adrenaline or shock; I’m not sure how long I can remain standing. I consider going to one of those pool chairs and just lying down, but a voice calls out to me.
It’s a name. A name that both is and isn’t mine. It pierces me through.
Nonna hurries down the stairs. She drops the first aid kit and her hands hover over me. Her gaze rakes across my face.
“You’re alive,” she breathes. And I know she isn’t referring to my fall into the pool.
I nod. “Nonna—I can’t—”
“I know,” she says. She tucks my damp hair behind my ears. “You’re like them, aren’t you?”
I nod. “Ten-year sentence for—for what I did.” My throat is so tight the words come out mangled. “I’m sorry.”
“Shh.” She pulls me into her arms and I close my eyes. This is what I’ve wanted ever since I saw her again. Thisis what I dared not hope for. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”
I cling to her. Everything I’ve wanted to say for three years snags in my throat. My eyes sting, and I breathe in the scent of her. Safety, familiarity, warmth.
Home.
I want this moment to stretch out into eternity. To stay here, in this small world where all is quiet and secure. But I know I can’t.
“I can’t stay,” I say into her shirt. “And when the cops interview you, don’t tell them you know me. If they find out who we are to each other… they won’t let me come back.”
Her arms tighten around me. “But you are coming back.”
I sob. “Yes. I love you. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry about everything.”
She pulls back for a moment, framing my face with her hands. Her own cheeks are tearstained, but her mouth is firm. “Dear girl. We’ll fix this. That’s what families do.”
I nod. And then I hug her one last time.
“Come back,” she whispers. “When you can.”
I watch her go. It takes everything in me not to follow.
Instead, I walk to the front doors. They’re still chained shut from the inside. I can see the glint of weapons, the swarm of black-and-white suits, and the familiar flash of a golden tattoo.
The outside world strains at the edges of the building, yearning to come inside.
I fall to my knees. My lungs are on fire with chlorine and every part of me hurts. I gesture at those outside, beckoning them in.
There’s a metallic screech as someone cuts through doors. Then the scents and sounds of the city engulf me.
29
The hours afterward are a haze of flashing lights, shouting voices, and my own aching injuries.
