The flight back to New York was quiet. Too quiet.

Violet sat by the window, watching clouds blur beneath the wings of the plane like smoke from a fire that refused to die. Bryan was beside her, his hand resting close to hers but never quite touching as though even comfort was dangerous now, a thing that could unravel everything they had just barely managed to keep together.

Rebecca hadn’t spoken since Zurich. Marcus was buried in his laptop, the light of the screen reflecting off the dark circles beneath his eyes. They had saved what they could fragments of Elena’s code, pieces of her consciousness but the rest had...