“Shit,” he mutters, blood on his lip. “You’ve got a mean right hook.”
“Sorry,” I say. “I couldn’t exactly touch you.”
“It stopped?” he asks.
I lift a finger and crack the door open just enough to confirm. Knox is frozen mid-chew, a chip hovering near his mouth. Ender stands rigidly beside him, arms folded across his broad chest.
“Yes,” I confirm.
“Good,” Idris says. “Uncuff me.”
I shake my head. “No. You’re going to get me killed.”
A prisoner vanishing mid-interrogation would raise alarms immediately. Ender already doubts my loyalty. I can’t give him any more ammunition.
“Come with me,” Idris says urgently. “We could use you out there. Imagine how many of them we could slaughter while you freeze time. You’re one of the most powerful Untamed to exist.”
“My sister?—”
“We’ll come back for her,” he promises. “Just untie me. Let’s go.”
“You don’t understand,” I say. “I’m in a secret unit. Under Ender’s command. I’m almost finished with my training. Once I’m in, I’ll have access to high-level information. Intel that could boost the odds in our favor.Thisis how we win, with strategy and planning. Not desperation.”
“Prue says you can do more than freeze time,” Idris says. “She thinks you can alter the timeline.”
My breath stutters. Prue said I couldn’t change the past. She implied that I might be able to alter the future, but she didn’t seem certain.
“How?” I ask curiously.
“There is a rebel who was close to your mother. He confessed it to the committee when he realized you were involved with us,” he explains. “This changes everything.”
“I can’t hold the freeze much longer,” I say.
“We learned th?—”
My powers slip, and I subtly shake my head before Idris can finish that sentence.
We’re being watched again.
“I need answers, rebel,” I say.
I raise my fist and punch him again. So, I can buy us some more time.
“Shit,” he groans. “You’re going to knock me unconscious if you keep at it.”
“We have a few more minutes.”
“You changed something,” Idris says. His voice is low. “Something in the future.”
I frown. “What do you mean? All I can do is pause time.”
“I don’t know what the event was,” he says. “But something happened that you’re trying to fix. It’s a paradox, you see, you don’t remember what you did, so you can’t exactly correct it.”
My pulse pounds in my ears.
“You vanish,” he continues. “Every year. May fourth. For one hour. Prue thinks that’s when it happens. That’s when you try again.”
My throat tightens. “Try to fix what?”
