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No. No, no, no. This can’t be fucking happening.

I bolt outside and run toward where a massive shuttle rises, its engine glow cutting brutally through the trees as gold-white light spills across the pavilion ceiling.

My hand tightens around the multi-slate as one horrible thought repeats over and over inside my skull.

Please don’t be on that shuttle.

30

ROWAN

Iwake tied to a chair, rope sawing into my wrists.

Nausea rolls through me until I can’t tell which way is up.

Light, I’m freezing.

Struggling against the restraints only sends pain shooting up my arms. My hands are already numb behind the chair, and a second length of rope cuts across my chest, pinning me upright despite my body trying to curl forward.

Swallowing feels like my throat is full of sandpaper, and every breath tastes stale. The longer I stay conscious, the more my stomach twists.

I force my eyes open again and finally take in my surroundings. Stone presses in from every side beneath a low ceiling. A single lamp swings overhead, throwing weak yellow light across rough walls and a floor stained by years of use. There are no windows, no obvious exit, and no sound except the faint hum of machinery somewhere beyond the walls.

The place feels less like a prison and more like a basement somebody was never meant to find. Something about the damp stone, old metal, and cold dust crawling through the air makes my skin prickle with ugly familiarity.

I’ve smelled air like this before. Damp concrete, rust, old machinery. For one disorienting second, I almost think I’m back in Düren.

A memory flickers and vanishes, leaving behind only fragments of trees rushing past, somebody grabbing my arm, and the distant roar of engines cutting through the dark.

Did they put me on a shuttle, or did I dream that?

The memory slips away before I can grab hold of it.

I clench my fingers and roll my wrist, looking for the comforting weight of my medical band, and panic surges through me and my stomach drops.

It’s gone. My multi-slate too.

Dread spreads through me as the realization clicks into place, my pulse climbing higher with every passing second.

Ciaran can’t find me. He has no idea where I am. He doesn’t even know if I’m alive.

The thought lodges somewhere deep inside my chest and refuses to move.

Please be looking for me. Please.

I squeeze my eyes shut, but all I see is him standing in the pavilion with betrayal burning in his eyes.

What did I do wrong? Does he really think I lied to him?

The door opens, and I jerk so hard the chair scrapes across the floor.

The woman from the forest walks in with two guards behind her.

I only stare at her face, certain I’ve seen her somewhere before. My exhausted brain struggles to connect the pieces. The room keeps shifting every time I try to focus on her properly, her features blurring together before I can pin them down. Whatever they pumped into me drags at my thoughts.

The sharp tip of her shoe slams into my ankle hard enough to send pain shooting up my leg. “Well. Finally awake, are we?”

“Wh-where are we?” My throat burns, but I force the words out. “Who— you… I remember you?”