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the front of the room. “Now hit the target on the wall
     with one of your knives.”
    I blink, then study the walls. Target? I hadn’t even noticed that a dartboard with
     a three-ring target is on one of the walls near the door we came through. But June
     doesn’t miss a beat. She flips out a knife from her waist, turns, and throws it straight
     toward the dartboard without opening her eyes.
    It slams deep into the board, just a few inches shy of the bull’s-eye.
    The man claps his hands. Even Kaede utters a grunt of approval, followed by a roll
     of her eyes. “Oh, for chrissake,” I hear her mutter. June turns back to us and waits
     for the man’s response. I’m stunned into silence. Never in my life have I seen anyone
     handle a blade like that. And even though I’ve seen plenty of amazing things from
     June, this is the first time I’ve witnessed her using a weapon. The sight sends both
     a thrill and a shiver through me, bringing memories that I’ve forced into a closet
     in my mind, thoughts I need to keep buried if I want to stay focused, keep going.
    “Pleased to meet you, Ms. Iparis,” the man says, tucking his hands behind his back.
     “Now, tell me. What brings you here?”
    June nods at me, so I speak up instead. “We need your help,” I say. “Please. I came
     for Tess, but I’m also trying to find my brother Eden. I don’t know what the Republic’s
     using him for or where they’re keeping him. We figured you were the only people outside
     the military who might be able to get information. And finally, it seems like my leg
     needs to be operated on.” I suck in my breath as another spasm of agony sears my wound.
     The man glances down at the leg; his eyebrows furrow in concern.
    “That’s quite a list,” he says. “You should sit. You seem a bit unsteady on your feet.”
     He waits patiently for me to move, but when I don’t budge, he clears his throat. “Well,
     you’ve introduced yourselves—it’s only fair for me to do the same. My name is Razor,
     and I currently head the Patriots. I’ve been leading the organization for quite a
     few years, longer than you’ve been causing trouble on the streets of Lake. You want
     our help, Day, but I seem to remember your declining our invitations to join us. Several
     times.”
    He turns to tinted windows that face the pyramid-shaped landing docks lining the strip.
     The view from here is amazing. Airships glide back and forth in the night sky, covered
     in lights, several of them docking right over the pyramids’ tops like puzzle pieces.
     Occasionally we see formations of fighter jets, black eaglelike shapes, taking off
     from and landing on the airship decks. It’s a never-ending stream of activity. My
     eyes dart from building to building; the pyramid docks in particular would be the
     easiest to run, with grooves cut into each side and steplike ridges lining their edges.
    I realize that Razor is waiting again for me to respond. “I wasn’t entirely comfortable
     with your organization’s body count,” I offer.
    “But now apparently you are,” Razor says. His words are scolding, but his tone is
     sympathetic as he puts his palms together and presses the fingertips to his lips.
     “Because you need us. Correct?”
    Well, I can’t argue with that. “I’m sorry,” I say. “We’re running out of options.
     But believe me, I’ll understand if you turn us away. Just don’t turn us in to the
     Republic, please.” I force a smile.
    He chuckles at my sarcasm. I focus on the crooked bump of his nose and wonder if he’d
     broken it before. “At first, I was tempted to let you both wander Vegas until you
     were caught,” he continues. His voice has the smoothness of an aristocrat, cultured
     and charismatic. “I’ll be blunt with you. Your skills are not as valuable to me as
     they used to be, Day. Over the years, we’ve recruited other Runners—and now, with
     all due respect, adding another one to our team isn’t a