A flash of understanding crosses Eames’s face. “Everything a person needs to disappear.”
“Yes,” I say. I take a breath. “If you want to leave, this is your chance.”
I watch the emotions flicker through his eyes: confusion, understanding, and, finally, a dawning hope.
“Wouldn’t they look for us?” asks Eames.
“Probably, but you’re Hannah Vale’s son, right? You should know how to disappear.” I gesture at the building.“This has been a clusterf—well, you know.” I glance at Piper, perhaps fifteen feet away. “ISD won’t want it getting out that they had a traitor working with domestic terrorists. Or not-terrorists. Whatever Radiovexation is. They might just let you go. They have Vale—and there’s more than enough evidence to put her away. But if you stay… they’ll enforce your deal. And now that Vale is captured, they don’t have to hide you anymore. They’ll put you to work until Vale is sentenced and imprisoned for good. And that could take years.”
Eames looks down at the backpack, then at Piper.
“They’ll use Piper against me, won’t they?” he asks.
I nod. “Probably. They could make it hard for you to take custody of her, if you don’t cooperate. Eames—you’re smart. You’re the kind of person they’d love to recruit. But… but you deserve more.”
“And you don’t?” he says softly.
I shake my head. “I—”
“You are a hero.” His voice is firm and gentle. “I don’t care what you say. You’re amazing.”
I look away, smiling ruefully. “You might be smart, but you have terrible taste in girls.”
He answers my smile with one of his own. But it fades quickly. I feel a dull spasm of loss. I won’t ever see him again if he runs. I know that.
I let go of the backpack.
“What about you?” he asks. “You could come with us. We could remove your tracker.”
For a moment, I let myself consider it: running with Eames. I imagine being part of something that isn’t ISD,something built on trust and—and maybe more. Part of me wants to go with him. To take his hand and vanish into those tunnels. To leave behind my sentence and guilt.
I let out a breath. “I can’t,” I say.
This time, it’s his turn to nod. “I know,” he says. “Nonna.”
I do my best not to flinch. “What?”
He smiles faintly. “I didn’t realize, not at first. Took me longer than it should have. But you slipped after Piper was taken. She’s your grandmother, isn’t she?”
I don’t answer—which is all the confirmation he needs.
“It wasn’t a coincidence you were here, was it?” he says.
I raise my shoulders in an inconclusive shrug.
His fingers catch me under the chin, tilting my face up. “You’re not running from your past,” he says. “You’re trying to get back to it.”
“Something like that,” I say, keenly aware of his fingertips on my jaw. “You need to go. Right now. Take the Portland Underground entrance in the basement. There are explosives in Carla’s bag. When the blackout ends…”
“Things start up again,” he says. “The city goes back to what it should be.”
He leans down, giving me a moment to pull away. I don’t—and the press of his mouth against mine feels like fire. My stomach tightens with want, and I arch into him like a plant seeking sunlight.
For the briefest moment, he is mine. And I am his. Two ghosts clinging to each other.
He pulls back, fingers still on my chin. His thumb strokes the corner of my mouth. Once, just once.
“Thank you, Augusta Pine,” he says quietly.
