Old radiator against the wall. Not a new building, nothing high-tech. I glance at the door, painted metal, covered in nicks and scrapes. I blink, trying to gather my wits.
“I expected your lab facility to be a little swankier,” I say, my consonants a bit more defined this time.
Congers slides his finger along the bridge of his nose. “We thought it best not to flee straight to a top-secret facility.”
“And what exactly would constitute ‘cooperating’?” My hands are cuffed behind the office chair I’m sitting on. My ankles are shackled to its legs. Graham is standing near the door, his gray-green eyes on me. His posture straightens as I size him up.
Congers glances at the young agent before returning his attention to me. “As you are aware, your father had something that belongs to us. We need to reacquire it immediately, especially given this evening’s unfortunate series of events. Even more unfortunate, we need your help.”
Fuck you. Those are the words on the tip of my tongue. But instead, I stay quiet and simply stare at him. Memories are slipping into place like puzzle pieces. We were being taken somewhere for questioning because I’d called too much attention to us in the city. My mom and Christina showed up. And then . . . “Where are they?” I ask.
Congers’s expression doesn’t change. He’s probably an excellent poker player. “They mean a lot to you.”
I try to keep my face as blank as his, but between the pain and the images of Christina and my mom flying down that embankment as that whatever it was blew their van to hell, I must give something away.
Congers’s eyebrow arches. “I thought so.” He stands up. “We have them. All of them. And their survival is very much dependent on whether you give me the information I need to access Frederick Archer’s private laboratory.”
My heart is starting to speed. He could be lying. My mom and Christina could have escaped. Or they could already be dead. And if I give the Core access to my dad’s lab, they won’t just have whatever H2 artifacts his ancestor might have found—they’ll have designs for all his weapons. They’d have access to that satellite controller. They’d have everything they needed to shut down The Fifty permanently, not to mention the rest of the dwindling human population. “I need to see them. Leo. And my . . . Christina.” They would have recognized Christina on the road—but they might not have recognized my mom. And if they don’t have her—
“Dr. Shirazi is in our custody, Tate. I don’t bluff.”
Shit. “If you want me to believe you, I need to see them.”
“We believe your mother knows how to access the lab, too,” he says. “I wonder which of you will break first.”
Heat spreads over my skin, my anger rising to the surface. He’s playing a game. Keeping us isolated from each other, each blind to how the other is doing, hoping one of us will crack out of concern for the other. But I know my mom. If she really is alive, she’ll know what’s at stake if the H2 get access to Dad’s lab. They could hurt her over and over again, and she wouldn’t give them what they want. “Probably me. Why don’t you give it a try?”
“But your mother came for you. A foolhardy rescue attempt fueled by the same emotion that might lead her to help us if we apply the right kind of pressure. If you don’t want that to happen, I suggest you give us what we need sooner rather than later.”
“First tell me about that thing on the road. The ship that attacked us. You knew what it was.”
For the first time, his expression changes, fury hardening every feature. “Distraction techniques won’t work, not on me. Tell me how to get into the lab without triggering the countermeasures.”
It’s not just distraction. The questions are piling up in my brain, crowding one another as they try to escape my mouth. “Are you guys in some kind of covert civil war? Is that why you need my dad’s
“I expected your lab facility to be a little swankier,” I say, my consonants a bit more defined this time.
Congers slides his finger along the bridge of his nose. “We thought it best not to flee straight to a top-secret facility.”
“And what exactly would constitute ‘cooperating’?” My hands are cuffed behind the office chair I’m sitting on. My ankles are shackled to its legs. Graham is standing near the door, his gray-green eyes on me. His posture straightens as I size him up.
Congers glances at the young agent before returning his attention to me. “As you are aware, your father had something that belongs to us. We need to reacquire it immediately, especially given this evening’s unfortunate series of events. Even more unfortunate, we need your help.”
Fuck you. Those are the words on the tip of my tongue. But instead, I stay quiet and simply stare at him. Memories are slipping into place like puzzle pieces. We were being taken somewhere for questioning because I’d called too much attention to us in the city. My mom and Christina showed up. And then . . . “Where are they?” I ask.
Congers’s expression doesn’t change. He’s probably an excellent poker player. “They mean a lot to you.”
I try to keep my face as blank as his, but between the pain and the images of Christina and my mom flying down that embankment as that whatever it was blew their van to hell, I must give something away.
Congers’s eyebrow arches. “I thought so.” He stands up. “We have them. All of them. And their survival is very much dependent on whether you give me the information I need to access Frederick Archer’s private laboratory.”
My heart is starting to speed. He could be lying. My mom and Christina could have escaped. Or they could already be dead. And if I give the Core access to my dad’s lab, they won’t just have whatever H2 artifacts his ancestor might have found—they’ll have designs for all his weapons. They’d have access to that satellite controller. They’d have everything they needed to shut down The Fifty permanently, not to mention the rest of the dwindling human population. “I need to see them. Leo. And my . . . Christina.” They would have recognized Christina on the road—but they might not have recognized my mom. And if they don’t have her—
“Dr. Shirazi is in our custody, Tate. I don’t bluff.”
Shit. “If you want me to believe you, I need to see them.”
“We believe your mother knows how to access the lab, too,” he says. “I wonder which of you will break first.”
Heat spreads over my skin, my anger rising to the surface. He’s playing a game. Keeping us isolated from each other, each blind to how the other is doing, hoping one of us will crack out of concern for the other. But I know my mom. If she really is alive, she’ll know what’s at stake if the H2 get access to Dad’s lab. They could hurt her over and over again, and she wouldn’t give them what they want. “Probably me. Why don’t you give it a try?”
“But your mother came for you. A foolhardy rescue attempt fueled by the same emotion that might lead her to help us if we apply the right kind of pressure. If you don’t want that to happen, I suggest you give us what we need sooner rather than later.”
“First tell me about that thing on the road. The ship that attacked us. You knew what it was.”
For the first time, his expression changes, fury hardening every feature. “Distraction techniques won’t work, not on me. Tell me how to get into the lab without triggering the countermeasures.”
It’s not just distraction. The questions are piling up in my brain, crowding one another as they try to escape my mouth. “Are you guys in some kind of covert civil war? Is that why you need my dad’s
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