Once Marley left, Emma heard another set of footsteps walking towards her, but didn't bother turning around. Every single time she'd ever spoken to Marley Dennis she was left with fire instead of blood, dynamite instead of bones.

"Sounds like you two have a history" a voice murmured. It was Mateo. She recognized his voice by now. Although she wasn't quite sure she was happy he was the one to enter next, she was relieved it wasn't Damien; she didn't have the patience. It was only a matter of time before she punched that perfect, smug cheekbone. It was a miracle they'd made it this long.

"We had mutual friends," Emma said. She picked at the skin around her nails, trying to look anywhere but at the Knights' leader. "That's it."

"She seemed pretty adamant to talk to you." Mateo took a seat beside her, and though her instincts told her to scoot away, her eyes were drawn back to the red skin along her wrists. This time tomorrow she'd be freed, she reminded herself. She'd be free as long as she didn't screw up now.

"Unfinished business." That was probably a lie, but the term was so vague Emma knew it could be manipulated to mean whatever she needed it to.

"That last part sounded rough," the boy noted. "Ex-boyfriend?"

"No," she shook her head. She clenched her hands up into fists, the nails diggings into the pale skin on her palms. "My brother. And Marley doesn't know what the she's talking about."

"You want to talk about it?"

"What, so you're my therapist now?" Emma couldn't help but release a small snicker, rolling her eyes at the incredulity of this conversation. "How about you explain why the hell the truck stop's after you anyways."

Mateo sighed, hesitating for a moment as he mulled over whether or not the girl could be trusted with this information. But he didn't need her to speak to know exactly what she would have said next; she got them this far, she deserved to know. "So until six months ago, there were a lot more Knights. I don't know the entire number, but there were more. Around twenty, I'd say. Everyone united around this one guy, Jordy."

"You all talk about him." Emma turned her head to the right, and saw Mateo's gaze cast towards the ground, his eyes closing briefly as he took a few breaths to steady himself. His hands were clasped in his laps, almost as though he was praying.

"He was special," he said quietly, but his voice sounded far-away. He shivered slightly, snapping his eyes open and drawing himself back into the present. "Kid was a goddamn superhero, but even the best have enemies. Jordy saw the strength, the power in his friends, realized we could be this policing force in a lawless world. Taught us to fight, to fight for the weaker ones, to fight back against all the injustices. He said that just because we were screwed over by the rest of the world doesn't mean we needed to make the same mistakes.

"But Jordy wasn't the only one who saw potential here. Others disagreed with him, thought our strength gave us an advantage and that we deserved to seize power. They all had anger, thought violence was the best way to cope. Everything was so divided that eventually Jordy kicked one of them out, and then four others followed. Michael was the first, and he then sent someone else to kill Jordy in his sleep. It was the only girl the group ever had, Julianna Jupiter or something dumb like that. We caught her, but Jordy let her live. It was only a matter of time before they came back. Goddamnit, they probably think he's still alive."

Emma had hardly listened to his last few sentences, however, for a certain name had peaked her interest. Julianna Jupiter; she recognized the surname. Uli Jupiter—one of the few girls living in the truck stop, and one of only two people in the world whom Emma felt legitimately threatened by. With her hair buzzed short and a dark red scar upon her dark skin, Emma always knew that girl was pondering whether or not to plunge her knife into her neck.

How ironic was it that it was not Uli who stabbed her there, not the Condor Megan who tried to kill her on multiple occasions, but the one person she thought she loved. It didn't matter how many times she told herself to stop thinking about it; he was always there in the forefront of her mind. She was getting tired of the anger. The heat was beginning to become too much.

"We're going to the right place," she said, pulling herself back to the real world and the solid ground and dingy couch just as Mateo was forcing himself to do the same. "Julianna's there. The Michael there, he might be someone else. This kid never seemed violent, but I know Julianna."

"Then that's the best we can do," Mateo sighed. "Either way, whoever's at that truck stop sent you to kill us. They made the first move, and now it's our responsibility to respond."

"Real honorable."

"Don't judge us," he snapped. "You killed a stranger you didn't even know. We're at least acting in defense."

"I'm not judging."

The conversation continued with neither teen quite sure what to say to the other. The words all felt like small-talk, both fully aware that they would both much rather sit in silence yet were equally terrified of the thoughts that silence might bring. She didn't want her blood to boil; he didn't want his heart to freeze.

------

The group hardly slept that evening, for they were all buzzing with a mix of nerves and adrenaline. The time was now. They were coming for the truck stop. That very evening this enemy would be abolished, the long-time feud between Jordy's exiles and the Knights would finally reach its reconciliation. As they neared, the boys left Emma behind, securely tying her to one of the trees.

"If this is a trap," Damien had insisted, "then we don't need her interfering. One less enemy in that gas station." They did return her her knife, however. Some protection in case things did not go according to plan for the others.

Emma couldn't argue with their logic, she'd have made the same call herself. Nonetheless, she wasn't pleased that her once lover Miles would meet his demise at a hand other than her own. The boy was a coward. Turned her into his goddamn little mercenary. She wasn't sure if she was more mad at him for manipulating her, or at Sebastian for his monumental betrayal, but Miles would be there. She wanted vengeance; he was the closest she could find.

But for once in her life, it seemed fate had worked in her favor. Just over twenty minutes after the Knights left their prisoner, she heard footsteps running towards her, trampling over leaves as they approached. It was Miles, emerging from the forestry.

"Emma!" he gasped as he reached her, "God, Em, are you okay? Did they hurt you? Where's everyone else?"

"I'm fine," she nodded, widening her eyes to portray the weak character Miles wanted to see. It worked. Within seconds, he was hacking off the ropes, spilling out half-assed apologies and condemning the six boys who had just invaded his home.

"Michael always said they were the devil incarnate," Miles said. His brown hair was shorter than Emma remembered it. He'd been taking good care of himself since he fooled her into doing his dirty work, for taking the fall for a murder he'd insisted upon, since he left her behind in that clearing. "I don't blame you for giving away our location. You must have been terrified."

That last line was the catalyst. With Miles' back already facing the tree, she lunged, pressing her blade against his throat. She hadn't ratted them out due to fear. Oh no, she was not so easily manipulated. Not anymore, not as she had been. No, never that weak again.

"Emma, calm down," he exhaled. Now it was his turn to sweat, his turn to feel his heart race. Emma's heart raced too, but this time with power. For two weeks now, her power had been limited—a strange control over her captors at any given moment, no matter if she was in the Fortress or with the Knights. But this power was real, surging and undeniable. There were no limitations. For once, she could breathe.

"You left me to die," she murmured, pressing the blade even harder.

"We made a deal," he insisted, a bead of sweat dripping across his hairline. "You knew what you had to do."

"You didn't have to run," she raised her voice. And it was then that the boy in front of her began to change. His body began to morph. Her eyes widened as he seemed to grow taller, his muscles become more defined. His brown buzzcut grew longer, his normally straight hair turning into messy curls that swept across his forehead. His blue eyes turned to the same brown as her mother's. "You betrayed me."

"I did my part, I got your friends to safety." It wasn't Miles' voice, but rather one she knew all too well.

Her heart was racing, the world around her blurring so that she couldn't quite see straight. She was screaming now. "You brought me there to die, you son of a bitch! You knew that they would try to kill me, you knew what would happen, but you did it anyways. You wanted me to die, didn't you? You selfish bastard—"

"Emma!"

She slid her knife across his throat, and as his blood spilled onto her body and the forest floor, she took a step back as her hand began to shake. It was Miles on the ground, Miles that she had killed. But it was Sebastian she had pressed against the tree, Sebastian whose neck she had slit, and Miles took the fall.

She thought it would feel good. It didn't. She thought it was Sebastian, she thought she was killing her brother. The mere sound of his name still filled her body with a fiery rage, but she felt no pride. She thought she was killing her brother. She thought she would see his body limp on the ground.

With that image in mind she turned around and vomited, collapsing onto the forest floor. She hated him. She couldn't even bring herself to mutter his name aloud, but she could not kill him. She would be better than that, better than him. The need for revenge had not left her, the urge to make him hurt the way she had, but she would not kill him. That much, she knew for sure.