David resisted the urge to shout for joy. He didn't want her to change her mind, so he restrained himself. “Thank you.” 

He reached for her hand, to shake it, to cement their agreement, but she snatched it back before he could.

“I said don’t touch me!” she snarled, loud enough that Jed and Susan glanced their direction.

This was off to a great start. His skin burned up to the roots of his hair. “Sorry. Sorry. I won’t make that mistake again.” Definitely not.

She brushed her hands down her long cloak and lifted her chin, nodding once like a commander giving an order. She pulled the hood tighter around her face. Only her eyes showed behind the scarf. She looked toward the Monitor. “I’m ready.”

She stepped forward and stood in front of the man without glancing back at David.

His stomach twisted. He wasn’t sure if he admired her or wanted to run in the opposite direction.

Maybe both.

“Papers,” the Monitor said, holding his hand out.

David stumbled to his feet, unfolding his papers as he hurried over to the Monitor. The grandmother handed over Amari’s.

The Monitor looked them over, then his eyes swept over David before including Amari in his gaze. “David Jeffrey and Amari Bakir. Do you agree to be bound legally as husband and wife, sharing whatever material goods you possess in this world, caring for each other, and letting your names be written in the ledger as a united couple?”

David’s blood thudded loudly in his ears. No big deal. This isn’t real. “Yes.” His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. “Yes. I do.”

Amari lifted her chin and looked straight ahead. “I do as well.”

“In the eyes of our government, you are now husband and wife.” The Monitor pulled out a pen and scribbled in a box on each of their papers. “David.” He handed David his papers. “Amari.”

She took hers, her hand shaking.

Jed stepped forward, pounding David on the back. “I believe congratulations are in order!”

David barely heard him. He stared at the papers in his hands, reading the script. Married to Amari Bakir. August 29, 003. Monitor Cochran, Camp Orange, Sector 5.

It was official. He was married to the bread thief.

To the mountain lion.

Even so, his chest thrummed with hope.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow they’d be on the road.

He’d grab the Cinderbone in the early morning hours—before Kip could notice, before anyone could stop him. He’d slip it in the bottom of his pack, beneath dried beans and a ratty blanket, and then they’d walk out with Company Eight like ghosts.

The marriage wasn’t forever. It didn’t have to be real.

But the danger was.

The road west was full of thieves and acid rain and men who’d slit your throat for a can of beans. The Sanctuary was real, sure—but so were the bones lining the path to get there.

David folded the marriage certificate and slipped it into his jacket.

He wasn’t in love, and he wasn’t a hero.

He was just a guy with a sister and one shot at getting out before the world closed in.

Kip behind him. Camp Orange just a smear on the map.

All he had to do was survive tonight.

“Let’s go.” David took Grace’s hand, but Amari back up two steps. Keeping her distance from him. Jed smirked like he thought this was funny.

Damn him.

“Look, we’re married now,” David said, focusing on Amari. His wife. “Let’s get that stamp so we can get to the Sanctuary. Tomorrow we leave.” Tomorrow! His heart leapt with anticipation.

She hesitated, her feet moving toward her grandmother, and then she halted. “Lead the way,” she said, gesturing him forward.

The square was empty. No line in front of the table, no official behind it. David sped up, his heart picking up speed as he neared the receiving area. They wouldn’t leave us behind. He put our names in the ledger. He reassured himself with these thoughts as he reached the table.

A paper flapped in the wind, secured on one side by a large rock. It read, See the sleeper car if you need to speak to the official.

David lifted his face and saw the pickup truck being used as a sleeper car. Dust-covered, beaten, and dented, the automobile had clearly traveled thousands of miles to get to Camp Orange.

The sight of it rejuvenated him more than he would have thought possible. “They still have cars! They must have gas!” he breathed, studying the tan-colored extended cab with a camper on top.

“Are we driving to the Sanctuary?” Grace asked.

“Maybe,” David said, afraid to speak his hopes out loud. If they were, they’d get there in days.

Taking her hand, David pulled her forward. He didn’t glance back at Amari. He wouldn’t make the mistake of getting too close to her again. Releasing Grace, he clapped his hands and called out, “Hello?”

The truck door opened, and a different official came out. He pulled a fur-lined parka around him.

“Hi,” David said. “Uh, I spoke to the other official earlier about going to the Sanctuary with my—wife.” He stuttered over the word. “He put our names on the ledger, but we weren’t officially married yet. But we . . . Bumped up the wedding and . . . Now we are.” He bit his tongue before he rambled off more explanation than anyone needed.

“Just married?” The man eyed David and then Amari. “You’re so young.”

“I’m nineteen,” Amari said. She held her arms stiffly across her body, her eyes narrowed, brows low.

She was older than him. “I’m eighteen,” David said. “I’ve been an Enforcer for the past year. I’m a legal adult.”

“Papers?”

David fished them out and handed them over, his heart racing again. What more could he do, if the man denied them? He glanced at Grace. Her face was pale, almost ghastly in the hazy twilight. The only color came from ash and dirt so compacted it would take a soak in a hot bath and a pumice rock to come clean. The sharp cheekbones cut dark shadows on her eight-year-old face, evidence a lack of proper food had carved on her skinny frame.

He knew with a certainty she would not live to be fourteen in this camp. And the years to get there would be miserable.

He’d stow away in the back of this camper if he had to.

The man flipped through the papers, pausing on Grace’s. “Who’s child is she?”

David straightened. “She’s my sister. I’m her guardian and have been since the death of our parents.”

He checked David’s papers against Grace’s, then looked over Amari’s. “You realize you are also a legal guardian, don’t you, Mrs. Jeffrey?”

Amari flinched at the use of the name. “Bakir,” she said.

“Excuse me?”

“Mrs. Bakir,” she snapped. “I’m keeping my surname.”

“All the same, Mrs. Bakir,” he said. “You realize you’re her legal guardian now?”

She looked at Grace and seemed to wilt inward. “I’m—?” Her eyes darted toward David’s, meeting them for a split second. Then her chin came up again. “Yes.”

“Then your papers need to reflect that.” He wrote on Amari’s papers and then on Grace’s.

A hard lump formed in David’s throat. Grace now belonged to Amari as much as to him.

He hoped it would be easy to undo that at the Sanctuary.

The official pulled out a stamp and pressed it down on each of their papers, using his open palm as a flat surface. “You’ll be in company eight. Meet here tomorrow morning. Bring whatever you can carry, including any provisions you have stored away. Now is the time you’ll need them.” He handed the papers back. “Good luck on your journey.”