FREE SAMPLE (Ch.1)

The shriek of my text tone woke me up.

I groaned and groped for my phone. Leaving my ringer on loud had not been conducive to restful sleep, but I couldn’t risk missing a message from her.

I yanked my device off the charger. The screen flickered on at full brightness, making my vision flash. I muttered to myself as I fumbled for the dimmer and swiped through the notifications.

The culprit was an email—spam, judging by the subject line. There were no new texts from Philadelphia.

I glared at the clock. I’d slept for six, nearly seven hours—an Olympic record for me. Why hadn’t she texted? It was daytime where she was, halfway around the world in Beijing. I knew she was going to speak at a church today, but service should have been over hours ago.

I opened the chat and initiated—just like I always did.

HOW WAS CHURCH?

Somewhat to my surprise, she typed back immediately.

CHURCH WAS GREAT. SORRY, WE HAD ANOTHER VISIT TO MAKE

Of course, you did. There was always an excuse with her.

I sighed and covered my face as conviction nipped me. This was her job. As weird and uncomfortable as it was to think, my girlfriend was a celebrity—or a public enemy, depending on who you asked. She was “Blue Fire,” the face of the revolution. She was currently stationed in Beijing and was touring underground outposts across the city, rallying the people to join the resistance and stand up against the United. It was literally her job to “make visits”—and I knew she was not in control of her calendar. Jael, the true mastermind behind the operation, was the one who gave the orders.

Still, I wished Phil would tell me when plans changed—instead of leaving me unread and making me worry that something had gone terribly wrong. Again.

I pushed the thoughts aside and texted back.

HOW WAS IT?

There was a pause, and I feared she’d closed her device without saying goodbye—something she did quite frequently. After a minute, typing dots appeared. They vanished and reappeared twice before she finally sent a message.

I DON’T KNOW

I frowned and sat up.

IS EVERYTHING OKAY? ARE YOU SAFE?

I’M FINE. I’M JUST NOT SURE WHAT TO THINK RIGHT NOW

I didn’t either. Phil was normally enthusiastic about her rallies, especially when she spoke at a church. She was always gushing about how many people were there, and how supportive everyone was, and how God had given her this word or touched that person. She saw the Holy Spirit in everything, and so did I.

In fact, based on the stories she told me, I was beginning to wonder if God was stirring something much more important than political revolution.

This would be the first time a visit hadn’t gone well, and that gave me plenty of cause for concern.

I phrased my next text carefully.

CAN WE TALK ABOUT IT?

She was silent. I gripped my device. Please don’t leave me hanging.

She finally replied.

I CAN’T TALK RIGHT NOW. WE’RE STILL HERE. CAN I CALL YOU WHEN WE GET BACK?

I begrudgingly texted an affirmative, and her avatar went dark. I fruitlessly refreshed the screen. Something wasn’t right, but as usual, I wouldn’t find out until it was all over.

And by then, there would be nothing I could do about it.

I growled and threw my device on the bed. I hated this. My girlfriend was out there risking her life to save the known universe while I hid behind a computer monitor. Phil said she was fine, but I knew she wasn’t. She’d been kidnapped, held at gunpoint, and almost killed multiple times. She was stranded in a foreign country without any friends while Asia, the most powerful woman in the government, hunted her down. It was only going to get more dangerous the closer we got to operation day—and there was nothing I could do to help her.

Well, I thought as the Holy Spirit prodded my conscience, there is one thing I can do.

Throwing the covers aside, I got out of bed, knelt on the floor, and prayed.

By the time I was done, it was past seven, so I figured I may as well go to work. I spent most of my time at the underground base across town, programming for Jael and helping Data and Tower organize the resistance in Boston. Up until recently, I had been living on base, but ever since Asia had busted our allies and forced us to relocate, Tower insisted we take shifts. Associating with “Blue Fire” was a crime in more ways than one, and there was always the fear that someone would turn us in for the ludicrous reward the United was offering. At least, if we took shifts, the government wouldn’t catch all of us.

Yesterday was my night off. I would have preferred to accept the risk and sleep on base, but Tower had lectured me last time I’d tried to pick up someone else’s shift. He couldn’t stop me from coming in early, though.

I hastily threw on some clean clothes, stuffed my laptop and phone in a backpack, and slipped out into the hall. Our apartment was dark except for the weak morning light peering through the broken mini blinds. I avoided the creaky spots in the floor as I navigated to the kitchen. Maybe, if I hurried, I could get out the door before the rest of the family woke up.

No such luck. My father stood by the sink, measuring coffee into a filter.

I halted and tried not to look surprised. “Morning,” I managed.

“Good morning,” he repeated. He gave me an awkward smile, followed by an even more awkward, “Stanyard.” It was like he’d forgotten how to say my name.

I turned away and opened the refrigerator. “Where’s Mira?”

He hesitated, which told me everything I needed to know. “She went out last night. She’s not back yet.”

I gripped the fridge door. My sister was always “going out.” She never said where she was going—and every night, I feared she’d never come back.

Just like last time.

“Here. I made you cereal.”

I looked up to see my father holding a stained plastic bowl filled with bran flakes. I almost rolled my eyes and barely caught myself. You don’t “make” cereal, and I hated cereal. I never ate it.

Which he would have known, if he’d paid any attention to the first seventeen years of my life.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, and grabbed the milk.

He went back to making coffee. I sat at the table and rallied the courage to eat my breakfast. For several minutes, the only sounds were water pouring into the carafe and me crunching on the unsweetened cardboard.

“What are you doing today?” my dad finally ventured.

“I gotta go to work.”

“What are you working on?”

“I can’t talk about it.”

That wasn’t a lie. Data had asked me to help him code a program that would hijack the United’s mandatory announcement channel so we could push Phil’s videos to every registered device on the planet. It was extremely top secret; we hadn’t even told Phil yet.

Dad hit the brew button and turned to face me. “Can I come with you to base? Maybe I can help…”

I shoved my cereal under the milk with my spoon. “No, Dad, it’s not safe.”

That also wasn’t a lie. The fewer people who knew about our new headquarters, the fewer who could compromise it. Even Mira hadn’t been on base yet. The location was on a strict need-to-know basis, and my dad didn’t need to know.

He didn’t give up. “Well, then, when will you be home for dinner?”

We haven’t eaten dinner together as a family in years. “I don’t know.”

He frowned. “I was hoping you could help me around the house. There’s several things that need repair.”

The apartment was falling apart at the seams, but it didn’t matter. “We’re not going to be here that long.” Our dingy living arrangements were hopefully temporary. I certainly didn’t plan to stay here long.

“Maybe, but I still want to make it nice for your mother.” He shook powdered creamer into his mug. “I’m going to fix the leak under the sink today, and then I want to remove the wallpaper that’s peeling…”

He droned on with his handyman list. I clenched my spoon. This—with the coffee dribbling into the carafe, and my cereal getting soggy, and my father acting like nothing was wrong—was so normal. So unbearably normal.

I would never live a normal life. I had five warrants out for my arrest. I was working for (and dating) the most wanted woman on the planet. I was a hacker, a rebel, a felon. Things could never go back to the way they were.

And I didn’t want them to.

“So, can you help me tonight after dinner?” my father finished.

I opened my mouth—but my phone rang, sparing me the misery.

I snatched it out of my backpack, hoping it was a call from Philadelphia.

It wasn’t. It was Data.

I swiped to answer it. “Yeah?”

“You need to get down here.”

He didn’t have to tell me twice. “On my way.” I shoved my chair back and shouldered my backpack.

“What’s wrong?” my father asked.

I waved him off and darted out the front door. I waited until I was in the stairwell before speaking again. “What’s going on?”

Data sighed so hard I could hear it on the other end. “Jayde’s back.”