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He chuckles "Whatever, Fotard"

That na It is the narade I push up onto et a better look at him and realize that for the first tiether Bowen scraainst the wall of a tent

"Don’t move or I’ll activate your cuffs," he says, voice hard

I lower ainst " I look at his silhouette out of the corner of my eye Slowly, he eases closer to , Bowen?" He knows uess"

"Are you Dreyden? Or Duncan?" I already know the answer--I just need to hear hi pause before he answers, "You spent enough ti at my brother Can’t you tell the difference?" There is resentment in his voice

I see the two faces froreen, one e, one several years older, and knoithout a doubt which one sits beside me "But you’re too old to be Dreyden," I whisper

"Too old? We’re the sarateful for the darkness that hides my face when I ask, or rather squeak, "How old am I?"

"What do you mean? You don’t know?" Skepticis

I’ out thirteen candles onout the candles on his cake at the same time I wore a yellow sundress Andave old treble-clef char for the necklace even though I already know it isn’t there

"Seventeen" Bowen’s voice interrupts rip ot to be wrong, got to be lying to ain to tell him so, and hear the hum of electricity My arether, pinned aardly over my stomach I fall back and land with a thud, and all the air jolts fro head, and my stomach roils with nausea I whimper and squeeze my eyes shut

"I told you not to er He opens the tent flap and leaves

After adeep, even breaths, the nausea subsides and I can think despite the pounding of my head Seventeen That’s how oldfourteen or fifteen Or sixteen And I definitely don’t reet-o outside

Jonah staring out theclothes to school that covered ertips to –resistant netting over rass that hadn’t beenit died and was replaced by dandelions even thoughsoed

And Mo their netting veils, and all they’d purchased was bags and bags and bags full of canned fruit and dehydrated meat substitute

I reer than the tip of a pencil, and a deep voice that didn’t belong to my father: You have to relax your muscles, Fiona

And every et another shot, I cried, so Jonah held my hand

"Bowen," so my memories "Can we talk?"

"Yeah What?" Bowen says, his voice still tinged with anger

"Mind sending the aruard away first?"

"Take a break,in the next ten minutes," Bowen says

"Yessir" The hollow thuround

"‘Sup, Len?" Bowen asks

"I want to know your answer regarding e talked about last night," Len says, his voice hushed<ins class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true"></ins>