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Ruckus came over the radio. “Got the last firing point.” A pause.

Then his voice, furious. “Rig.”

Riot answered immediately. “Confirmed. They’re all rigs. No shooters on the perimeter.”

Every shot outside had come from a rig.

The whole property seemed to change shape in my head.

Rigged rifles. Speakers. Dead cameras. Chained gates. Vehicles that wouldn’t start.

A battlefield full of shooters who weren’t there.

The entire perimeter had been staged.

Wade had made them defend against a distraction inside a trap, and all the while he’d been inside my mirror. Waiting.

For how long?

How often had he occupied that space, planning for this?

Ben put the car in gear.

Dad tracked us with his weapon.

Riot did too.

Neither fired.

Wade kept me between them and himself until the house disappeared behind us.

I watched it go.

Dad first. Then Riot. Then the house.

Nine years ago, I had lost three days of my life and never remembered the moment I was taken.

This time I watched it happen.

My whole body started shaking. Hard enough that my teeth clicked. I couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t breathe around it.

Wade still had his arm around me.

I’d been taken again.

EPILOGUE

Raw meat.

That was my first thought.

It smelled like Mr. Crawly’s butcher shop.

I hated doing the pickup there.

Blood and metal and something thick in the air that seemed to coat the back of your throat.

I blinked a few times, trying to make sense of what I was seeing.