It had taken days for Miles to lead Peregrin up towards the forest surrounding the High Midwestern Fortress, and though the Knights moved faster than the old group consisting of almost thirty people, their different starting point resulted in a longer distance they must cover. Emma did not begin to recognize any terrain until the fourth morning of their journey.

"The highway is close," she said.

"How far is it from there?" Mateo asked.

She shrugged, "We'll want to spend the night somewhere along the road. We can be at the truck stop tomorrow morning, but there's no place to stop nearby without them seeing us."

"So where is it safe to go?" snapped Damien, and she felt an acute tension pulling on her wrists. After the second night, he had insisted that they were being far too easy on her, and that as they neared the southern woods where she was from, she'd only be more likely to try to run. Since then, her wrists had been bound permanently, the long tail of the rope in the hands of the Knight.

She frowned; there was truly only one option where Miles' crew at the truck stop would not dare travel so far to see them. "There's an old college campus. Last time I was there it was abandoned." The last time she had visited the City of the Forgotten, she had been searching for her brother, but what she found was a hollow complex where all signs of life had disappeared, and an ominous note where she learned his new location. She had gone north to find him, to rescue him from the High Midwestern Fortress.

What bullshit. She didn't want to save him now. She looked at the ropes along her wrist and knew that he was the one who wrapped them around her skin; he could rot in Hell.

"And when was this?" Damien asked, tugging again on the rope to regain her attention.

Her gaze was hard, steady. "Two weeks ago."

Gavin then interjected, "She's right. Everyone there disappeared, it's been a big talk lately. Nobody will have moved in in two weeks, especially since there haven't been any answers."

"And nobody's coming near here to begin with," added Emma. "The nearby lake is poisoned, the City just vanished, and the Grove is a fucking warzone. Nobody's dumb enough to risk it."

"Fine," Mateo nodded, but she could hear his voice wavering. Had Gavin not agreed that the City would be safe, she had no doubt that they'd have ignored her suggestion completely. That would have been their loss, of course. She couldn't care less what happened to them.

And on they wandered, four days now they'd spent moving, and the journey had begun to take its toll on the group. The boys had grown irritable with each other. Damien was snapping at anyone who dared get on his bad side, and the rope in his hand only grew more taught. Rocket was left scuffing his feet on the ground, falling a few feet behind and sending dirty looks to anyone who who encouraged him to walk faster. The past two days he had spoken only to his brother Wes. Even Benji—the curly-haired boy Emma had learned to identify by his wild howling laugh, the way his eyes were lit by the sun—had become far more quiet. He walked beside Gavin, keeping his head down and smirking only when his friend spoke to him. Even Mateo tired, though nevertheless he marched at the front of the crowd, beckoning the others to continue, to follow, to persist.

At the top of a hill, Emma's breath was caught in her throat; she could see the brick buildings of the campus her brother had once called home. The last time she was there she was emotional, terrified by the abandoned streets. Now she was only filled with rage, with disgust that this had been his city. He had been at the front of that podium, he was the one others looked to for answers, he was the one that stabbed his own sister in the goddamn neck. She couldn't even stand to walk the same ground he had walked.

But Emma was not the one in charge. No, in this scenario she was powerless as Damien tugged on the rope and beckoned her to follow the boys towards the narrow streets that made her blood boil. As they neared, however, they came to an abrupt halt.

"I thought you said this place was empty," Mateo murmured, and upon his final word, Damien had pushed Emma against a wall, a knife at her throat once again. The group held their breath, and the leader was right: there were other voices.

"Was our agreement not clear?" he hissed, his irritable eyes threatening to bulge right out of his head. "If you try to play us, try to screw us over, the whole deal's off. We're close enough now that we can find Michael ourselves, you hear me?"

"I haven't been here in two weeks," she snapped, a bead of sweat dripping across her forehead under Damien's heated breath. "Turns out people showed up, but they sure as hell aren't going to let you stay here overnight if they see you killing someone in their alleyways."

"How do we know it's not Michael?" someone asked, and the boys in the front's faces dropped.

"We don't," Mateo said. He took a deep breath before declaring his plan. "We need to be prepared. If it is Michael and the rest of the truck stop group here, then they'll know us immediately. He's not a stranger, and he'd attack us on the spot." He turned towards Emma, eyes flashing with determination. "But he wouldn't attack her."

"You seriously want us to let our prisoner walk in there alone?" Damien gawked, but he lowered his knife. "Why the hell are you so certain she's not working with them?"

"The truck stop isn't here," she said, and when all eyes flew to her she smiled slightly. "They resented my people because we had an actual camp. Said we were too civilized. What do you think they'd say about the goddamn City?"

Suddenly, Benji said his first words to the whole group all day: "It smells like weed."

With one attentive whiff of the air around her, Emma nodded and a pit dropped in her stomach. "I think I know who's here," she said. "And so Mateo's right. I'll go in first, I'll talk to them."

"Hell no," Damien tried to cut her off, but she simply continued.

"You said it yourself," she argued. "You're close enough to the truck stop that you don't need me, which means I carried out my end of the deal. Now it's your turn."

"Damien's wrong," Mateo said quietly, which resulted in a nasty glare from his friend. As he progressed, his voice grew in conviction. "We'll need you until whatever happens at the truck stop is over. We can't let you free just yet, but you're right. If you know these people, then you're the one who needs to negotiate." Before the others could disagree, he had begun to untie the ropes from Emma's wrists, letting the bonds hang down towards the ground. He gripped her arm. "We're watching you, Emma. If you try to pull anything, you'll pay for it."

She didn't say anything in response, but their steady eye contact spoke the agreement for itself. As she turned around, she gulped, not because she was afraid, but because she needed to calm the fire burning inside of her every time she remembered who once ruled these streets.

There were perhaps twelve kids in the cobblestone plaza at the center of the small campus, and at first when she entered they hardly noticed. But she recognized them; she'd seen some of these faces before. Her eyes fell on a girl standing on the other side of the bonfire lit in the middle of the day, and the figure seemed to see her too as she began to approach.

She looked better than Emma remembered, still tall and thin and carrying an unnatural poise. The last time she saw her she was irritated and bitter, and those old sentiments hadn't seemed to waver, only now her feet were planted flat on the ground and her eyes weren't left bloodshot from the drugs.

At first, neither spoke, so Emma took the first move. It took an effort to find the right words to say, to force them off her tongue; they did not roll off as easily as they did among the Knights. "Hey, Marley."

The girl clicked her tongue irritably, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "If you're looking for Sebastian, he's not here."

"Oh trust me," she said. Her face was just as steady, her stance showing nothing but distaste for the girl opposite her. "I know. Peregrin came by a couple weeks ago and this whole place was empty."

"That's your brother's fault," Marley shrugged. "He somehow got some real city to take us in, but didn't consult it with anyone else, as per usual. Where's the rest of Peregrin?"

While she knew the honest answer would not hurt her chances with negotiating with Marley Dennis—the girl dubbed "Baby Druggie" in the one month she'd spent at Emma's camp—she still worried that the story might be passed along to the Knights, and that was exposure she would not dare risk. "I got separated. As far as I'm aware, Nat and Donny are alright. At least, they were last time I heard."

"So what do you want, Emma?"

"I'm here with six others," she said. "We just need to stay here for one night."

Marley tapped her foot on the ground, scanned the girl in front of her up and down for almost twenty seconds before coming to her decision. It was no secret that she despised Miss Emma Harlem, the hero who could do no wrong, the legend immortalized in the minds of the rest of the City. The girl was brave, no doubt, but to Marley she was merely a fraud. She was pompous, arrogant, and entitled. She had someone that loved her.

"Well shit," Marley muttered. "We obviously have space and I'd be way too big a bitch if I turned you down. Go grab your friends, I'll figure out a room."

------

Marley had sent one of the other ten to lead and Emma and the six stranger boys to the apartment where they could spend the evening. That was the greatest advantage of having found refuge on an old college campus; the sheer amount of boarding space was incredible. The City of the Forgotten had never been forced to turn someone away. Only now Marley worried that that might be their downfall. She didn't trust Emma. That girl took the whole world for granted.

But two hours since they'd arrived, most of the boys had returned to the outside and their one female counterpart was nowhere to be found. Since the girls had spoken, Marley couldn't get a single image out of her mind: Emma's wrists were rubbed raw and red. And as the minutes ticked on and the boys kept on talking in hushed voices and she never exited that apartment, Marley grew more and more skeptical of the visitors.

The leader was easily identifiable: a stocky Hispanic boy with a muscular build. The others kept coming to him, muttering something under their breath. Just as a curly-haired boy walked away from the leader and the tall blonde bodyguard beside him, Marley came forward, the wind pushing her light brown curls back the way she came.

"Where's Emma?" Her voice was cold and to the point, her brown eyes full of the same intensity. She was slightly taller than the leader, but the height difference didn't fuel her nor frighten him.

"Emma's sick," said the boy beside him, rolling his bright blue eyes. "She's sleeping."

But Marley didn't miss a beat. "First of all, I didn't ask you," she snapped, "And secondly, that's fucking bullshit. I saw this girl almost die and she was walking around later that day like nothing happened. Also she doesn't sleep."

"So I take it you two were friends?" This was the leader speaking, glaring at the blonde as a warning that he better not speak again.

"God no," Marley scoffed. "But I need to speak to her. Now."

Still—much to the discontent of both Marley and the leader—the blonde boy persisted. "Any information you need from her you can get from us."

Marley simply shook her head, laughing slightly as she took a step towards him. Her spine straightened, pulling her closer to his height and her eyes grew far more serious. "Let's get this straight, pretty boy," she snarled, "This is my city. My rules. And you're not leaving this shithole until I see her. Alright?"

"And what are you going to do about it?"

She had no idea. "You don't want to underestimate me."

The boys made eye contact and the leader nodded slightly, and then gestured that she follow him. She could see the blonde frown as they walked away, his eyes narrowing and the bones along his cheek and jaw becoming even more defined with tension. The Hispanic boy unlocked the door to the apartment she'd granted them, but she whipped around when he began to follow her inside.

"Hand me the key," she snapped, and when he hesitated she continued. "I'm not dumb enough to let you lock us both in here, and I really don't think you want to stay for our hot scissoring lesbian porno."

"Damn," the boy said just under his breath. Marley smirked as the small piece of metal landed in her hand and the door shut close behind him. She whipped around to see Emma seated on the grungy couch in the main room of this apartment complex.

"So now we're gay porn stars?" asked Emma, looking over her right shoulder towards the entryway. "That's a turn of events."

"Thank me later," Marley muttered, then stormed over to the other girl. "Want to tell me what the hell is going on here?"

"We'll be gone in the morning. Nobody has to know we ever came."

"That's not what I'm talking about," she snapped. "Look at your wrists, then tell me what the hell is happening."

Emma hesitated. She wanted to avoid the subject, wanted to mention the old scars rather than the rope-burn. "It's not what it looks like."

"Really? Because it looks to me like they're holding you hostage, and I'm not letting that fly by."

"This isn't like the Condor situation, or whatever the hell happened back in the Grove. I was paid off to kill their friend, and I'll get my freedom back once I help them find the group that wants them dead."

Marley closed her eyes for a brief moment before sighing, "You can escape through the back window, I'll send people to cover you."

The other girl froze, brows furrowing in a cold confusion. "I don't need your help. "

"An enemy of an enemy is my friend, or whatever that saying is," she shrugged. "Look, I can't stand you or your brother, but he was right about one thing. You can't trust strangers, and now that they've been to my city, these boys you brought are legitimate threats. So yeah, I'm gonna goddamn help you get out of this."

"All of this will be over tomorrow night. They set me free or they kill me, either way it's over," Emma murmured, but she looked away. "Besides, everything Sebastian ever said was bullshit."

"Then have it your way. Nat would have been pissed if she thought I hadn't tried to save your sorry ass."

"Wait," Emma said quickly, her head darting towards her old rival. "Don't tell anyone I was ever here. Don't draw the Grove into this, don't draw my friends into this. It's the best for all of us."

Marley simply nodded, then pushed herself away from the corduroy couch, a strange anger fueling her every step. "Goddamnit, Emma," she said as she placed one hand on the metal doorknob. "He fucking loved you."

Once outside, she slammed the key back into the palm of the young man in charge, surprised by the unanticipated fury with which she left. She heard him entering slowly, but nothing that followed, for the ringing in her ears had grown too loud. She wanted to smoke, but now she was the one in charge and the twelve kids outside would look to her for answers, and she'd have to stay sober to deal with unwanted strangers and reminders of the friends she'd lost.

Goddamnit, that Emma. They all loved her, they all wanted her more. And now they'd all gone north, and Marley was left alone with a ringing in her ears and her own voice screaming in her mind, but she rose her head in silence as she faced the hazy gray sky alone.