Marcus is sitting on Camille's bed when I wake up. The hallway light illuminates his face as he pulls on his shoes. I breathe in and out quietly and watch him, trying not to think of anything else. When he finishes tying his shoelaces, he gets up and heads out of the door. A moment later, I hear him rifling through a drawer in his bedroom.

I roll out of bed and grab what I need before hurrying to the bathroom. The warm water drums against my skin. I tilt my head back, letting it wash over my face until I need to breathe. It feels good on the outside. Inside, I feel beaten and bruised.

Sam. The underground facility. It's all real. I had that conversation with him a month ago. It was the day he told me Maggie Parker isn't my mother; she's nothing more than a stand-in for the one who died because of me. I thought I'd be relieved to know I'm not related to such a cold and unfeeling woman, but all I feel is shattered. I've lost the only mother I've ever had.

Is this what it was like for Carson when he found out he's adopted? Like everything is spinning and there's no way off this ride?

I shut off the water and rake my fingernails through my wet hair, exhaling a shaky breath. I can't deal with that now. I have to focus on what's important. Like the fact that the Takers have been manipulating our lives since birth. They're the reason Marcus and others like him have these strange abilities now. But the Blank . . . they didn't want that to happen. That kid's changes went beyond what the Takers had planned for us. And now we're supposed to sit tight and hope we don't have to fight for our lives against more Blanks—unless we ourselves end up blanking.

It will all be over in about a month, Sam said. That doesn't tell me anything. How do we identify the ticking time bombs before they blank? What do the Takers have in store for us beyond this place? What's their end goal? I was too intimidated by Sam to demand information. Too frazzled to think. A lot of good that's done me now.

When I head back to my bedroom, Marcus is sitting on Camille's bed again. "Hey," he says, a question in his voice.

He senses something's different. A memory slides over the image of him sitting in front of me. I remember looking down at him while he sparred below in the training room, the shiver that passed through me when he gazed up at the window with his dark eyes. Marcus never lived in a group home or with an abusive man named Raymond. He was raised in that place. Him, Alec, Janie, Buzzcut, and Eli.

And Willow. She did this to him. She brainwashed him into forgetting his whole life, just like she made me forget those weekends with Sam.

Marcus's low laugh pulls me back to the present. "Don't bother with excuses. I don't know what changed between now and last night, but I can read the rejection on your face loud and clear."

It takes a moment to understand what he means. He's talking about our conversation last night. It feels like so long ago. Years, eons, ago. He has no idea how much has changed since. He has no idea that we might have to deal with an outbreak of Blanks.

I've spent a lifetime teaching you.

Anger sparks to life inside me. The only thing Sam has ever taught me is how to avoid dealing with my emotions, even in the sanctity of my mind, and give in instead of fighting for what I believe in. What I want.

Marcus gets up from the bed as I approach him with slow steps. The look on his face is neutral, but his shadowed eyes watch me intently. I need to tell him what I've learned, but first, I have to address this.

There's tension squirming in my belly as always, but something's changed. That urge to run away—it's completely gone. I don't know if it's because I've realized I have nothing to lose at this point or because I don't want to be that girl anymore, the one who constantly pushes people away. The one created by Sam.

There's no space left between Marcus and me. I reach out and place my hands on his chest, sliding them upward to his shoulders. I stand on my tiptoes, hoping he'll kiss me. And he does. He presses a warm hand to my cheek and tilts my head up to his.

There's none of the urgency he had yesterday, as though my willingness has tamed some of his restlessness. I wind my arms tighter around his neck, wanting to lose myself in him and block out the worry lingering in the corners.

But I can't avoid it forever. I wish we had plenty of time to get to know each other, but one thing I've learned is that the peace never lasts.

"You said you can tell something's changed," I begin once the kiss is over, regretting that I don't have the luxury of being carefree any longer. His smile fades as he senses the change in my mood. It takes me a long moment to speak through the lump in my throat.

"But the truth is that everything has changed."



Marcus sits next to me on my bed while I tell him everything—minus the Carson thing. I don't want to throw Carson to the wolves until I'm certain that something has gone terribly wrong with him. About ten minutes later, Marcus gets up and sticks his hands in his pockets, standing so still my chest aches with foreboding.

"Marcus," I whisper.

"It's a lot to take in."

"I know," I say. I thought he'd be happy to know he didn't have a crappy guardian or wasn't responsible for the death of a friend, but that doesn't appear to be the case. Far from it. "I felt the same way, too, when Sam told me. But it won't feel so overwhelming after a while."

I think. I'm still working on that part.

Another long pause. "I need to be alone."

He's gone before I can say another word.

We're out of our blocks at nine o'clock, shuffling toward the stairs amidst the usual crowd. Marcus walks ahead of me. He cuts a path through the bodies, jostling people and eliciting a couple of protests. He doesn't glance back.

"The captain's in a bad mood," Alec mutters next to me.

I wonder if Sam and Willow got to him, too. Or maybe he's part of it. I don't ask yet. I want to confront him and Willow, but not until we've sat down and I can look them both in the eye and know if they're lying to me.

I keep my eyes on my surroundings and notice the blood hasn't been cleaned up. It has dried on the concrete, the color reddish-brown against the dull gray.

If we're on lockdown, the Takers wouldn't have bothered to clean up our mess. They might not even come in here to restock our food supply. What happens then? I can't imagine the chaos as people are driven to fight over food. It truly will be survival of the fittest.

I notice I'm not the only one looking around with interest. Eli is doing the same, but his eyes are cold and calculating. He's up to no good. My suspicion is confirmed when his eyes land on a girl and he growls, "Stop right there."

The tiny girl freezes in his path. Someone screams when he takes a butter knife out of his pocket and plunges it into her chest. She cries out and struggles against his hold, but he buries the blade deeper until she goes quiet. Several seconds later, she slides to the floor, gasping for air. And then she stops moving.

The horror of this scene slams like a cinderblock into my chest. Everyone has come to a sudden stop, standing in a wide circle around Eli and shocked into silence. Except for one girl—the victim's friend—who breaks out into loud sobs.

"What did you do?" she demands.

"Saved your ass," he replies, casually wiping the knife on his pants leg. "She was going to turn into a monster like that kid yesterday."

"You don't know that!" someone says.

Rolling his eyes, Eli slips his knife back into his back pocket and goes over to the girl. He opens her eyelids, and everyone gasps in unison. They're stark-white, just like the Blank's. "She had her head down, was avoiding looking at anyone. But the signs were too obvious to ignore."

"What signs?" I ask.

"She was twitchy. Mumbling under her breath. People act erratic just before they blank." He looks around and laughs at our dumbfounded expressions. "Open your eyes, boys and girls! How do you expect to stay alive if you're not going to play smart?"

I look at the dead girl again, sick to my stomach. Sooner or later she would've blanked, but she was still human. Just a scared and helpless teenager like the rest of us. As if agreeing with me, Marcus pushes through the crowd and shoves Eli in the chest. "You shouldn't have killed her."

"I should've let her blank and kill us instead? You saw what that kid did yesterday. Three people are dead because of him. Is that what you want?"

"We could have helped her."

"Trust me," Eli says with an air of expertise. "You can't help them."

A shadow flickers across Marcus's face. "I don't care what you think. We shouldn't just go around killing each other just because it seems like the smart thing to do."

"Says the guy who's killed two people so far." Eli sees rage darken Marcus's features and lifts his hands to ward him off. He's all muscle and at least a foot taller, but the laughter on his face tells me he has no desire to fight Marcus. "Relax. Fact is we can't have these things running around. I'm just nipping the problem in the bud, that's all."

"Don't do it again." Marcus says in a low voice. "You got that? And clean up this mess. You're responsible for this, and you're going to fix it."

Eli's broad face stretches into a cocky grin. "Sure thing, Captain."

As he stalks off, Marcus doesn't acknowledge me. Not even the barest of glances my way, which makes me more worried. I don't go after him. He's still working through things on his own. He'll come to me when he's ready to talk. I hope.

"He's turning into a major killjoy these days," Eli mutters as he and a couple of guys prepare to carry off the girl's body.

I wonder if he's referring to the way Marcus has been acting in this place. Or is this about their history together? Eli and Marcus did grow up together in the research facility. He knows what sort of a person he used to be.

And so do Alec and Willow.