“What?” my voice gets stuck in my throat.

          Asher glances to either side, making sure the hallway is empty. “I know where he is and I can get you to him,” she says.

          I shake my head. “Why should I even believe you?”

          “What else can you do if not waste away in here?” she asks, folding her arms over her ribs. “If you insist on staying mad at me or whatever, fine; but let me do this.”

          I’m quiet for a long time. “And if I do? What then?”

          “Then I’ll have done what I set out to do, and you’ll be free,” she says, and I feel the conviction in her voice. “Even if you never trust me again, just listen to me one more time, Finn. Let me help, and I promise you will get out of here and see your brother again.”

          The surety with which she says it makes me bite back the questions that rise to my tongue. I stare her in the face, and her dark brown eyes are steady. I keep silent until one question burns its way through me.

          “Why?” I ask, not breaking her gaze.

          “Because,” she says, her voice soft and barely more than a whisper. “I won’t die doing my father’s work either.”

                                                                 *

           It rains the next day. Water streaks down the windows in uneven stripes, casting my cell in a gloom the same gray as my eyes. The rumble of thunder is distant but rolls often over the city.

          Asher comes with the guards to escort me to the labs, our conversation seemingly forgotten judging by the apathy in her expression. She’d left yesterday without so much as telling me her plan. I supposed I had to be ready for anything. My muscles are wound tight, my hands in fists behind my back as the guards walk me to the labs. I feel the hum of the building’s steel skeleton around me, but with my focus too scattered, I can’t do anything but let the hum fill me with nervous energy.

          Asher seems unfazed. She walks in front of me, the two guards flanking me from behind. I hear a pop and I jump as one of the guards behind me swears. We stop, Asher bristling at the noise. My ears ring with the sound in the hallway; I’m sure hers are ringing too.

          “What the hell did you do?” she demands. The guard’s hip holster is smoking as he pulls his handgun from his side. The hammer and slide are askew, and a bullet has embedded itself in the floor, sending cracks out from its impact. The guard clears his throat, embarrassed.

          “Sorry,” he mutters. “Damn thing must’ve backfired or something.” Asher scowls at him.

          “The tile replacement will come out of your paycheck,” she says, and her voice sends an icy spike of fear through me. The guard looks stunned. “Get out of my sight and file an incident report,” she continues coldly. “Pray that you didn’t cost this company anything valuable.” The guard hesitates, but turns back the way we came, his massive shoulders tight.

          The other guard nudges me forward. He checks his hip holster, making sure his own handgun is properly stored. We continue down the hall to the lab.

          In the small room where they observe me, my hands are unbound and electrodes are stuck onto my temples. The thin wires sneak under the collar of my scrubs to attach to a pair of electrodes stuck near my heart. I try to catch Asher’s eye through the large window separating the observation room from the rest of the lab, but she doesn’t meet my gaze. She’s busy typing something on the small hologram screen she holds. The lab coats set a fork in front of me while I’m still watching Asher.

          “Begin,” a voice says over the crackling speakers, and I turn my gaze to the fork. Its hum washes over me, and I lift my hand toward it a little. When I raise my hand, the hum becomes more focused, and it makes my fingers tingle pleasantly, as if they are cold and I’ve just run them under warm water.

          The fork rises from the table, hovering in front of me. The lab coats titter on the other side of the window. I slowly turn the fork, spreading my fingers wide. When I curl my fingers into a fist, the fork crumples as if my hand grasps and bends it, and clatters back onto the table’s surface. I wince at the sudden noise it makes, but the lab coats mutter excitedly. The lines showing my brain activity are jumping in wild, jagged arcs, and my heart rate is fast, though I don’t need to see the numbers to know that. It pounds in my chest like I’ve just sprinted, and my whole body feels flooded with adrenaline.

          I look at Asher to see her dark brown gaze pinned on me. She inclines her chin in an almost imperceptible nod before the side of the lab explodes in a wave of glass and fire.