I slouch in the chair until the tips of my toes touch the ground and turn around in a circle. I don’t think I’m going in the right direction with the restaurants.
Whoever took Cadence and Grey learned from the last attack I launched on their system. They’re keeping the virtual doorsealed like a tomb. No virus, no program, no algorithm, and no AI can break through.
Which means I can’t get in.
But these four words got out.
This can’t be an accident.
Grabbing a notebook and a pen, I write each word down and unscramble it, fighting to make a new word out of the letters. At the two hundredth word, I give up and hand the task over to Henry who finds about the same number of words as I did.
After perusing both lists, I’m on the verge of tearing my hair out.
“Piano. Rooftop. Hospital. Ring. Whatisit?”
Maybe it’s something related to The Kings?
I call Finn, but he doesn’t answer, so I leave him a message letting him know that I got a lead, and I need his help to decipher it.
The clock in the corner of my monitor reads 11:15pm.
My eyelids are getting heavy, and my head pounds, but I reach for the secret stack of energy drinks that Dr. Kenji would kill me if he knew about.
Popping the tab, I take a big chug while thinking out loud. “Is it cryptographic math? If I translate each letter to the number it represents in Hebrew or Latin…”
Thump.
My head launches up at the noise.
Slam. Thud.
It sounds like doors are crashing open and banging against the walls. Footsteps thunder in the hallway.
I crane my neck to check outside. There’s a thin, glass pane in the center of my door, and it reveals a crowd of people pressing forward.
What’s with the commotion?
Is there a fire?
I jolt to my feet. My eyes cut straight to the drawer where I keep my heart medication. I’d leave everything in this place to burn, but I absolutelycannotleave those pills.
Fast-walking to the drawer, I reach for my grandmother’s Book of Promises while I glance up at the door to check if the fire is close by.
“I love you!” a girl outside screams and then starts weeping loudly.
“The heck?” I bump the drawer closed with my hip and amble to the door.
Now that I’m looking closely, I realize I may have gotten the wrong first impression. The crowd isn’t fearfully running from a disaster. The people outside are all wearing smiles, except for a few—who are crying in adoration. Most have their phones out, and others are waving pens and notepads in the air.
Curious, I press my hand against the door to shove it aside when the door flies open on its own. I stumble back as two tall, imposing figures strut into my hospital room.
“All right. All right now.” Zane Cross flashes the crowd a charming smile that makes at least seven—yes, I counted—girls faint straight to the ground.
“Close the door,” Dutch hisses.
“I’m trying.” Zane grips the handle, his biceps straining. “They’re strong.”
At that moment, the hospital security guards trudge through the crowd. They hold their arms out and use their bodies as a barricade to keep the fans from entering the room.
