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and reminded myself that I had broken up with him .
    Sloan retreated to my side, something that caused a flame of gratitude to ignite in my gut, while Jag made the introductions.He wore a clean pair of jeans, but they weren’t his. I scanned the black T-shirt and instantly recognized why it hung strangely off his frame. It belonged to Irvine.
    Jag had been at my house. I remembered the thud I’d heard last night. Had that been him? Had he slept in my armchair without waking me? Somehow that hurt more than seeing him now, with yet another girl. He’d had a chance to explain everything in private, and he hadn’t taken it. Why didn’t he take it?
    I struggled against the tears, willing myself not to cry right there in the open street. Not in front of Jag. Never in front of him again.
    Vi With-No-Last-Name said hello in a polite-ish way, and Sloan said what I wanted to. “Another Goodie?”
    I noticed the way Vi cringed, and though Jag defended his new girlfriend, I was more than happy when she wandered away. Immediately, Jag pulled us into a tight huddle and began talking.
    “Who’s second?” he asked.
    “Lex,” I said, looking at a point just above his shoulder so I wouldn’t have to look into his pretty face. I wanted to hurt him so badly, the way he’d hurt me. I kept that emotion hidden, utilizing my newfound strength.
    “Did you find the notebooks?”
    “Yes.” I wanted to tell him that they were nonsense, that I’d done next to nothing with them, but I was determined to speak as little as possible.
    “I found what I needed,” Jag said. “I’m going to Seaside with Vi, because we escaped the Goodgrounds and now we’re sort of fugitives.” He ran his hands through his hair. “I’m stopping by my house for some supplies.”
    “You won’t find much,” I said, suddenly angry with myself for not keeping the Resistance headquarters better stocked. “Your phone is on your desk where you left it. I plugged it in for you. There might be some water bottles in the fridge.”
    He looked right at me, and I felt pinned by the intensity in his gaze. “The fewer people who know I was here, the better.” Which translated to “I’m sorry I didn’t wake you last night.” I understood Jag and his hidden messages.
    I appreciated his way of apologizing, but my fingers still tightened into fists. He noticed, and one eyebrow quirked up.
    “Thane Myers is tracking us,” he said, and that snapped me out of my personal problems. A higher-up in the Association of Directors, Thane Myers could cause serious complications for me, Jag, and the Resistance.
    “I’ve been sending runners to the cities you had listed,” I said. “None of them have reported Thane leaving Freedom.”
    “Indy, you’re a genius. Keep the Resistance running.” He checked something over his shoulder. “Send me word in Seaside with your runners.”
    I nodded, wishing a compliment from him didn’t rock my world. But I’d be lying if I said it didn’t.
    Jag gestured with his hands at his surroundings. He leaned closer. “Gather as many supplies and people as you can. I have a feeling life is going to change in the Badlands. Soon.”
    “Will we have to evacuate?” Sloan asked. A tremor of fear bolted through me at the question.
    “Possibly,” Jag said. “Be prepared for anything. Our people cannot survive in a brainwashed city.” He looked at me again, and I didn’t need empathic genes to feel the urgency behind his words.
    “Why Seaside?” I asked suddenly. “Why can’t you come with us?”
    He shook his head. “Vi needs—”
    The rest of his explanation was cut off by the sudden crimson glow of an iris recognizer. Screams pierced the night, and I got jostled as people began scattering.
    Jag gripped my hand and pulled me to him. I couldn’t resist pressing my nose to his chest and inhaling deeply. The forest smell of his gel and the flowery scent of my mother’s fabric softener punctured the walls around my heart.