than proven herself—and right now she could be a huge help. Instead of locking her away, we should be sending her out. Giving her a mission.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Ibrahim, he makes a good point,” the tall black man says. “The kids won’t be expecting her. She’d be the perfect lure.”
“See? Azi agrees with me.”
“I don’t.” Tatiana shakes her head. “It’s too dangerous,” she says. “Too many things could go wrong.”
“What could possibly go wrong?” Anderson asks. “She’s more powerful than any of them, and completely obedient to me. To us. To the movement. You all know as well as I do that she’s proven her loyalty again and again. She’d be able to capture them in a matter of minutes. This could all be over in an hour, and we’d be able to move on with our lives.” Anderson locks eyes with me. “You wouldn’t mind rounding up a few rebels, would you, Juliette?”
“I would be happy to, sir.”
“See?” Anderson gestures to me.
A sudden alarm blares, the sound so loud it’s painful. I’m still rooted in place, so overwhelmed and confused by this sudden flood of dizzying information that I don’t even know what to do with myself. But the supreme commanders look suddenly terrified.
“Azi, where is Santiago?” Tatiana cries. “You were last with him, weren’t you? Someone check in with Santiago—”
“He’s down,” Azi says, tapping against his temple. “He’s not responding.”
“Max,” Anderson says sharply, but Max is already rushing out the door, Azi and Tatiana on his heels.
“Go collect your son,” Ibrahim barks at Anderson.
“Why don’t you go collect your daughter?” Anderson shoots back.
Ibrahim’s eyes narrow. “I’m taking the girl,” he says quietly. “I’m finishing this job, and I’ll do it alone if I have to.”
Anderson glances from me to Ibrahim. “You’re making a mistake,” he says. “She’s finally become our asset. Don’t let your pride keep you from seeing the answer in front of us. Juliette should be the one tracking down the kids right now. The fact that they won’t be anticipating her as an assailant makes them easier targets. It’s the most obvious solution.”
“You are out of your mind,” Ibrahim shouts, “if you think I’m foolish enough to take such a risk. I will not just hand her over to her friends like some common idiot.”
Friends?
I have friends?
“Hey, princess,” someone whispers in my ear.
KENJI
Warner just about slaps me upside the head.
He yanks me back, grabbing me roughly by the shoulder, and drags us both across the overly bright, extremely creepy laboratory.
Once we’re far enough away from Anderson, Ibrahim, and Robot J, I expect Warner to say something—anything—
He doesn’t.
The two of us watch the distant conversation grow more heated by the moment, but we can’t really hear what they’re saying from here. Though I think even if we could hear what they were saying, Warner wouldn’t be paying attention. The fight seems to have left his body. I can’t even see him right now, but I can feel it. Something about his movements, his quiet sighs.
His mind is on Juliette.
Juliette, who looks the same. Better, in fact. She looks healthy, her eyes bright, her skin glowing. Her hair is down—long, heavy, dark—the way it was the first time I ever saw her.
But she’s not the same. Even I can see that.
And it’s devastating.
I guess this is somehow better than if she’d replaced Emmaline altogether, but this weird, robotic, super-soldier version of J is also deeply concerning.
I think.
I keep waiting for Warner to finally break the silence, to give me some indication of his feelings and/or theories on the matter—and maybe, while he’s at it, offer me his professional opinion on what the hell we should be doing next—but the seconds continue to pass in perfect silence.
Finally, I give up.
“All right, get it out,” I whisper. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
Warner lets out a long breath. “This doesn’t make sense.”
I nod, even though he can’t see me. “I get that. Nothing makes sense in situations like these. I always feel like it’s unfair, you know, like the worl—”
“I’m not being philosophical,” Warner says, cutting me off. “I mean it literally doesn’t make sense. Nouria and Sam said that Operation Synthesis would turn Ella into a super soldier—and that once the program went into effect, the result would be irreversible.
“But this is not Operation Synthesis,” he says. “Operation Synthesis is literally about synthesizing Ella’s and Emmaline’s powers, and right now, there’s no—”
“Synthesis,” I say. “I get it.”
“This doesn’t feel right. They did things out of order.”
“Maybe they freaked out after Evie’s