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  Neither of them moved.

  If she didn’t know better, Pandora would have said the whole world stopped in that instant. But her heart was pounding in her chest, a wild, heavy beat, reminding her that the seconds dragged on.

  Words ran across his irises. Pandora saw them in the depths of his stare. He didn’t need to say them out loud. She’d learned to read him a long time ago. There wasn’t an inch of his face that she hadn’t memorized, no crease or line or twitch she couldn’t decipher.

  I’m sorry.

  I had to.

  I hate myself.

  I don’t know what to do.

  I miss you.

  I love you.

  Please forgive me.

  Please yell at me or hit me or hurt me.

  Please do something.

  Anything.

  But she couldn’t.

  Her eyes burned. She couldn’t blink.

  Her arms shook, weak from holding this contorted pose. She couldn’t shift them.

  The knife in her back twisted, a fresh wound, excruciating. She couldn’t dislodge it.

  All the things she wanted to say fought their way out, battling for escape, trying to work their way through her clogged throat and dry lips. She couldn’t speak them.

  Couldn’t yell.

  Couldn’t cry.

  Couldn’t beat her fist against the glass and pretend she was smashing his face.

  All she could do was stare.

  Because for the first time in four years, everything between them was laid bare, everything was raw and ugly and utterly real. The Jax on the road had been a lie, a ruse, a ploy. With his smiles and his promises and his sweet, sweet words. But this Jax, broken and beaten down with nothing left to hide, was true—a brief glimpse of the boy she used to love.

  Jax made the first move. Cautiously, he slid his palms down his face, black hair falling over his forehead as he sat up, shifting his weight, so he knelt before her. Inch by inch he lifted his hands until his fingers were pressed against the glass. And then he pursed his lips and swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing once. His mouth opened ever so slightly.

  “Dory.”

  His voice didn’t travel through the soundproof glass, but Pandora heard it anyway, a phantom sound, haunting her mind, the barest whisper.

  The spell broke.

  As quick as the moment came, it passed.

  Pandora jumped to her feet, pulling the shadows close as she retreated, shutting her eyes and her thoughts and her mind, breaking contact with all the memories threatening to overwhelm her.

  “Dory,” he called again, this time loud and demanding, bouncing over the walls of her cell, slightly static as it poured through the speaker tucked into the ceiling. Pandora turned to find Jax with his hand pressed against the intercom, gaze roving every bare inch of her cell, silently pleading with her to come back.

  She didn’t.

  Just a moment of weakness, she tried to convince herself. Nothing more. Jax means nothing to me. I’m over it. I’m over him. I’m…

  She sighed heavily.

  “Please,” Jax said, voice cracking slightly. His green eyes glistened, wet and watery as they continued to search in vain.

  Don’t cry, Pandora silently sneered, anger blossoming now that her body had adjusted to his presence, now that it had remembered she was supposed to hate him. You don’t get to cry. You did this to me, to us. You tricked me. You trapped me. You— She took a long, shuddering breath. You’re not the one who gets to cry.

  But of course, she didn’t say any of that out loud. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction, because she knew Jax, and she knew nothing tortured him more than her silence.

  A moment later, something in his pocket buzzed.

  Pandora heard the gentle hum through the speaker and watched Jax slip his hand into his pants, look at a glowing screen, and then curse. With one last lingering glance at her cell, he turned and marched toward the door.

  Pandora followed.

  Every nerve in her body flared to life as she switched into stealth mode, falling back into her role of master thief smoothly as she shifted through the glass wall of her cell. Her footsteps were silent. The shadows caught everything, even the softest exhale of her breath. And as she crept along the hall, careful to keep a few paces behind Jax, a smile slowly widened her cheeks. Whether Jax knew it or not, he was going to be her ticket out of here. Well, at least, her ticket to more information. Because when he lifted his keycard to the scanner and opened the door, Pandora didn’t rush to follow. She let the heavy metal slam shut, then pressed her hands against the smooth surface as she pulled the darkness closer. All she had to do was think of Jax, a person she knew better than herself, and poof—through the door she went, appearing cleanly on the other side.

  Just like that, Pandora was one step closer to finding a way out of this hellhole.

  Thank you, Jax, for finally, after so much crap, being good for something.

  And he was.

  He really was.

  Because she followed him down four more hallways, up a staircase, around a long circular bend, and into the belly of the beast.

  The command center.

  “What’s going on?” Jax asked gruffly as he entered the room.

  He was too distracted by his thoughts, by their encounter, by his director’s call, to notice Pandora step in behind him, only a few inches away. His normally acute senses had gone haywire, which worked perfectly for her. She stepped to the side, gaining some distance as her gaze swept the area, taking in as much information as possible. There were twelve people inside. Five she recognized, including her father. One wall held a few dozen silent television screens, images flicking from one to the next, and it only took her a second to realize it was the security feed. One of the screens pointed into her empty cell, plate of food still untouched after her hasty departure. Two rows of blinking dashboards and computer screens ran along the center of the large rectangular space. There were papers stuck to the long sidewalls—notes and words and diagrams and drawings, scribbles that meant nothing to her. And finally, at the opposite end, there was a map. A diagram of the jail. Exactly what she’d been hoping for. Pandora moved toward it.

  “How is the captive?” That hollow, cold voice stopped her. Pandora glanced over her shoulder, staring at the derision on her father’s face as he looked at Jax with knowing eyes.

  For his part, Jax returned the stare with flared nostrils, unable to hide the contempt in his tone. “Your daughter, you mean?”

  “I saw she finally made an appearance,” her father responded, voice neither caring nor goading, as though he were doing nothing more than simply stating a fact.

  “Oh, did you?” Jax snapped, emotions boiling under his skin, so hot Pandora could almost see the steam seeping from his ears. “Well, you’ve never asked before, sir. Why start caring now?”

  Her father remained silent, swallowing tightly as his eyes darkened the barest shade, ready to end the conversation.

  But Jax either didn’t notice or didn’t care. And she knew why, knew it without even having to look at him, because it was obvious. When he’d finally had the chance to speak with her this morning, he’d been unable to find the sound, the sentences, the strength. But right here, right now, staring at the annoyed look on her father’s face, Jax finally found his voice.

  The words spewed out, totally beyond his control.

  “How would you be, sir?” he asked. Bitter. Cutting. Meant to hurt, but meant to hurt whom, Pandora wasn’t sure—her father or himself? “How would you be if you thought that everyone in your life had betrayed you, if you were alone and confused and probably too stubborn to admit you were scared as hell? How would you be if you knew you were locked in a cell, just sitting around for death to take you? How would you be if you suddenly realized your entire life was a lie, that you had no idea who you were, what you meant, what you might become? How—”

  “That’s enough, Jackson,” Malcolm Scott cut in sharply. H
er father had never liked being talked back to, especially not by the children. “Remember whose side you’re on.”

  Jax laughed darkly. “Oh, I remember. Don’t you worry about that, sir. My choices, my decisions, I can’t escape them. They haunt me. They won’t let me forget.”

  Pandora tore her gaze away.

  She didn’t want to hear this, didn’t want to know this.

  “We do what needs to be done,” her father responded, voice the barest bit softer, but Pandora knew from experience that it was the gentlest his tone ever got.

  The phrase brought her back, back to that house in the woods, back to the lonely halls, the quiet days. Everyone has a fate, her father used to say over the dinner table after her lessons, when she was being reprimanded, when he finally remembered she was there. And God gave me mine because he knew I was strong enough to take it. You too, Pandora. You’ll handle whatever comes because you’re a Scott, and we were born to be strong enough to do what needs to be done.

  She’d always thought he said the same thing time and time again because he didn’t know how else to speak to her, what else to say to the daughter he barely acknowledged. But hearing them roll off his lips now, they sounded almost like a prayer, like a piece of personal scripture he recited over and over, etching the words into his soul.

  Jax hunched his shoulders, silently admitting defeat. Because he couldn’t deny the undercurrent of her father’s words, the truth that ran through them.

  What am I? Pandora thought yet again, staring at the two men.

  “Why’d you call me?” Jax asked, the fight gone from his voice.

  “I have a mission for you.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Jax responded firmly, shaking his head. “I’m not leaving her. Not until…not yet.”

  “Your father thinks—”

  “I don’t give a damn what my father thinks.”

  “And I don’t give a damn what you think,” Malcolm said, the command evident in his voice, no longer her father, but now the director, the leader. “Frankly, I’ve lost faith in you. I don’t trust you. And in four days, when it comes time to proceed with the ceremony, I don’t believe you’ll be able to control yourself. You’re a strong young man, Jackson, but you lack the emotional maturity to handle this situation, to remove yourself from it. So I’m removing you. You’ve already done your part, and you did it well. There’s nothing more for you here. Go on this mission. Or go home. Go to your father, your mother. Go anywhere. Just get away from here. That’s an order.”

  “I—”

  “An order, Jackson,” her father repeated, a note of finality in his voice. And then he turned back to the computer in front of him, leaning over the shoulder of a titan she didn’t recognize to point at something on the screen. He mumbled, moving his finger, silently dismissing Jax, who angrily shoved the door behind him open and stalked out.

  Four days, Pandora thought, watching his body disappear as the door slammed shut, the sound echoing in her ear. Four days, and what? That’s it? I’m dead? She shook her head, sparing one last glance at her father. I am a Scott, Dad. You taught me well. And you better damn well believe I’ll do what needs to be done to get the hell out of here and save myself. You might think I’m some evil thing that needs to be destroyed, but I know I’m not. I know who I am. I have faith in myself. And I’ll find a way to prove you wrong. To prove you all wrong.

  Not wasting another moment, Pandora turned away from her father, from the other titans in the room, and from the men she could sense were completely human, probably government agents of some sort. Making sure to keep her body silent, she marched to the other end of the room, not bothering to spare a glance at the scrapings on the walls. If there were human officers sitting in these seats, then whatever secrets the titans were holding close wouldn’t be revealed in here, not on the diagrams or scribbles or sketches taped to the walls. But one thing was, one thing she needed more than answers—the map of the prison.

  So Pandora stepped around the chairs, making sure not to disturb any papers on the floor, not to knock into any tables or disrupt any machines, and found a spot tucked away in the corner where she could take in the diagram.

  There were two floors aboveground, mostly what looked like offices and barracks. The first underground floor was more of the same. But the second, that held cells. Rows and rows of cells. So did the third. The fourth and fifth looked to be laboratories of some kind. The sixth held more cells, with this command center right smack-dab in the center. And below where she stood were four small rooms of ten cells each—including hers. It was the deepest, most secure, darkest corner of the prison.

  Little good it did them, sticking me in there, she thought, smirking. I’m always telling people not to underestimate me. My father. Head vampires. Hell, even Jax. But here I am, surprising them again.

  And she’d keep surprising them, as many times as it took until she was dead or free. There were no in-betweens.

  Pandora stood in front of that wall for an hour, blocking out the sound of her father’s voice, the beeping buttons, the flashing security screens. Silently, stealthily, she committed the entire map to memory. The hallways, the checkpoints, the exits, the stairs, the shorthand names she didn’t quite understand, the shortcuts she might have to use, even the elevators, though it’d be too risky to try to ride them. And only after she could close her eyes and still see the imprint of the diagram on the back of her lids did she pull the shadows as close as they would go.

  Sam had told her not to push her luck.

  Sam had told her to take baby steps.

  Sam had told her to be cautious.

  But Pandora was feeling a little high on the taste of victory, and a little reckless, and just a little bit invincible, so she closed her eyes and pictured every inch of her cell, letting the darkness carry her onward.

  When she slid her eyes back open, a tray of cold food waited by her feet. Slowly, a smile spread across her lips, triumphant and yes, a little smug. Unable to hold back her elation, Pandora shoveled the food in as quickly as she could, feeding her growling stomach, giving her body the strength it would need. And then she walked through the glass wall of her cell and into the hallway. Using the key Jax had unknowingly given her—a view of the other side—Pandora slipped easily through the metal door at the end of the corridor. And from there, she used the map in her head as a guide, exploring the prison as though it were little more than a playground holding challenges she knew she was strong enough to overcome.

  Chapter Four

  “Psst,” Pandora quietly hissed, pausing for one moment to make sure she didn’t hear the near-silent buzz of the speakers running. While the video feed from the camera outside the cell was constant, the audio feed wasn’t. The intercom had to be remotely turned on. But judging by the silence, no one in the command center was listening, at least not at the moment. “Psst.”

  “You don’t have to make that annoying sound,” the girl responded, not moving from her legs-crossed position on the floor, the same exact stance Pandora had found her in the day before—contemplative and quietly commanding. “I know you’re here.”

  “Well, you could have said something,” Pandora grumbled. “I was trying to not freak you out.”

  The girl raised her brows as an amused smiled flickered on her lips. “You’ll find I don’t scare easy.”

  “Good, me neither,” Pandora said, sinking to the floor next to what she hoped would be her new best friend and temporary partner in crime. “That’ll be important.”

  The girl sighed, finally opening her eyes. She turned her back to the camera and faced the spot where she knew Pandora was sitting, despite the fact that Pandora remained wrapped in the shadows, invisible.

  “Why will that be important?” she asked in a slightly exasperated voice.

  If I’m annoying her already, this is going to be harder than I thought, Pandora admitted, pursing her lips, trying to be on her best behavior. “Because I have a proposition for you.
”

  “I’m not interested.”

  “But—”

  “Who are you?” The girl narrowed her eyes. “I can’t see you, can’t look at you. I sense you have good intentions, but there’s a darkness surrounding your soul that I can’t read, can’t understand. And though you might have guessed you know me because we find ourselves in a similar predicament, I can promise you that you don’t. You don’t know me at all. And I’m not in the business of making deals with people I don’t think I can trust. They have a way of coming back to bite you.”

  This is going well…

  Pandora huffed, clicking her tongue as she searched for the words that would turn this around. She settled on the simplest route—the truth. “My name is Pandora,” she began. “And I’m a titan. At least, I think I am. I was born in a titan enclave and lived there my entire life until four years ago when I learned that my own father and every person I’d ever known had been plotting to murder me. So I ran away. The titans caught me, brought me here, and will kill me in four days if I don’t get the hell out of this place, which is exactly what I plan to do. And I’d like to take you with me.”

  No shock. No surprise. Not even a glimmer of interest passed over the girl’s face. Man, she’s stone, Pandora thought.

  And then a moment later, a single word slipped through her lips. “Why?”

  “Because,” Pandora started, taking a deep breath. “You said you’re a medium, and you’re the only one I’ve met who didn’t seem like a phony trying to score money off unsuspecting tourists or housewives with too much time on their hands. And there’s someone, someone I lost a long time ago, who might be able to help me understand why everyone I’ve ever loved wants me dead. So I’m offering you an exchange, your freedom for my answers. A simple deal and once it’s done, we can go our separate ways.”

  “Who?”

  Pandora shook her head, forgetting for a moment this girl couldn’t see her. “No one important. No one dangerous,” she explained, hesitating to give away any more details. A knot in her gut made her catch her tongue, swallowing the word mother back down her throat. She didn’t know why, but she knew she trusted her instincts, and her instincts were screaming to stay silent.