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He hesitated, hand hovering over the actual big red button. “Why would you want me to do this?”

“Maybe you were right and we’re tired of being heroes?” I inched closer. “Or maybe we were the villains all along. Isn’t that right, Zee?”

“I am livin’ my villain era right now. So press that fuckin’ button, dragon. I dare yah.”

Syros wanted this world, but he wanted to be the one to ruin it. He wouldn’t press that button. He might be crazy, but he wasn’t that crazy. He pulled his hand back. “You’re more unhinged than I⁠—”

Zee clicked his fingers.

As a wave of pleasure rolled up Syros’s back. He gasped, fell back, and reaching out to stop himself from falling, his hand slammed down on the big red button.

Bigger, louder, more alarming alarms sounded.

The green exit lights turned red—the universal color of very bad stuff.

“Zee?!” I dashed to the consoles where, on screen, all the cell doors had flung open.

He joined me and cringed. “Oh my fuck!”

The prisoners emerged.

Zee flung his hands up to cover his face, then peeked through his fingers. “Is it bad?”

“I mean . . .” Lost Ones surged out of their cells, pouring like a river down the corridors. “Yeah. It’s pretty bad.” Imagine twenty, maybe fifty Gideon Cains on the loose. This party really was about to get wild.

Zee jabbed the button again, but it made a comical sad trombone sound. “The fuck?! Why does this big button not also lock the doors? Who designed these fuckin’ controls?”

“What have you done?!” Syros bellowed, staring at the screens.

“Made you come. Was it as good for you as it was for me?” Zee grinned at my recovering brother.

Syros snarled, and thrust the cattle prod into Zee’s middle, jolting him, then he ran. Zee dropped in a twitching, sparkling heap. I grabbed him, pulling him close so he didn’t convulse too hard and break something.

“Gah . . . go, Kitten!” he growled through gritted teeth.

But I didn’t want to leave him.

But I had to stop Syros before he got outside the wards.

But, but, but . . .

Zee bucked, gasping. “Fuck, ow . . .”

“My dears . . .” Victor’s firm, comforting arms wrapped around us both. “I’m here.” He sounded pissed off, afraid, furious, wary. “I feared the worst . . .”

“It’s alright,” Zee grumbled. “We’re alright.” He twitched again. “Sparky stick. Very ouch.”

“Why am I not surprised to find you three here?” Tom snapped, appearing behind Victor. “Did you not stop Syros from unleashing the entire prison?!”

“Hi, Tom.” I waved. “Uh . . . actually, we did that.”

“You unlocked all the doors?” Tom strode toward the consoles, his outline fizzing with static. “Well fucking done. We’re all fucked. And that’s my cue to leave, quit the hotel, and hop on a phone line to Hawaii. Have a great end of the world!”

“You can’t leave.” I shot to my feet.

“Why?”

“You uh . . . you just got here?”