Chapter Six

Wren choked on the air in her lungs as she gazed up at Connor. He wore a beanie, so his LED remained hidden from her. Seeing him hurt. She drank in his appearance. His brow pinched and he parted his lips as he stared down at her, still gripping her shoulders. Wren's eyes danced from freckle to freckle. She traced the curve of his lips, and the way they pulled into a slightly crooked line. She memorized the way his body pressed against hers.

"Jesus Christ… What the fuck are you doin' here?"

Hank's voice tore Wren's eyes away from Connor's. Hank seemed so shocked to see Wren that he still pointed his gun at her. She met Connor's eyes again. "Wanna lower your gun, Hank?"

"Shit, sorry," said Hank. He lowered and holstered his gun. "What are you doing here?"

Connor finally released Wren. He pressed his lips into a tight line and stepped back. Wren backed away to look at both of them. "I could ask you guys the same thing."

"This is a crime scene in an active investigation and you set the alarm off," said Hank. "The fuck you think we're doing here?"

Wren pursed her lips for a moment. "I probably shouldn't say."

Hank rolled his eyes. "Right. Prometheus business, huh?"

"Look, I know you guys probably want some answers—"

"Yeah, we fuckin' do," snapped Hank. "And you can start with why you're here, because it's obviously not to see us."

Wren's chest clenched. "I'm sorry. I can't. I'm just here to analyze the scene and then I'll be gone. You guys were never supposed to know I was here."

"Whoa, whoa, wait, you're not just gonna leave—"

"I have to. I'm sorry, but I can't stay. I'm so sorry." Wren's eyes filled with tears.

"They let you have free reign and you're choosing to not talk to us? The fuck's going on?" Hank's eyes flared.

"Hank, please…" Wren choked.

"No, this is bullshit. We've been imagining you locked up in a dungeon or something being tortured, and not only are you in Detroit, but you're not even supervised!" Hank curled his lip and folded his arms.

Wren worked her jaw, avoiding Connor's gaze as she focused solely on Hank. "Sorry to disappoint you."

"Wren," Connor murmured. Wren cut her eyes to him and her heart shattered. She swallowed the lump in her throat and blinked back tears. She wanted to hug him, to cry into his chest and tell him everything, but she couldn't risk their lives. Connor's mouth trembled as he seemed to struggle to find the words. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "I… I found your letter."

Wren's face drained of color and ice settled in her stomach. "Your birthday letter? You kept that thing?"

Connor's brow furrowed and he exchanged a glance with Hank. Wren strode toward Connor as he parted his lips to speak, but she covered his mouth with her hand. She glanced at Hank, who frowned. She couldn't let them say anything that Prometheus might hear and find suspicious. She withdrew her hand from Connor's mouth and used American Sign Language to say, "They're listening."

She knew that Hank probably did not know ASL, but Connor might. At the very least he could decipher what she signed. Wren squared her shoulders, her heart twisting. It hurt to breathe. "Well, since you two are obviously not going to help me—"

She moved to walk between them, to leave them again. Hank grabbed her by the arm and forced her to face him up close. Wren looked away, trying to hide her beaten face, still healing from the torture she experienced.

"Jesus, kid… What the hell did they do to you?"

Wren blinked rapidly. "It's better if you don't ask questions. Stop researching my past. This is our reality now. Just… let me go."

"We're trying to get you out of there, kid."

Wren's eyes snapped to Hank's. "Well, I'm not asking you to do that! Now, are you going to let me go so that I can do my job?"

Hank scowled. "No. I'm not helping Prometheus in any way."

Wren nodded. She swallowed and drew in a shuddering breath as she gazed up at Hank.

Hank's eyes softened. "Hang in there, kid." He pulled Wren into a hug.

Wren's eyes pricked with tears. She clutched onto Hank as if she might disappear. She squeezed her eyes shut. She wanted to say she loved him, that she missed his sharp comebacks and colorful language, and cooking unhealthy foods that Connor disapproved of, and Sumo and watching movies late at night. Instead, she just clung to Hank tighter before letting go. She turned toward Connor and an ache stabbed through her chest. They stared at each other for a moment before Wren reached for his hand, the synthetic skin of her hand disappearing. He mimicked her and they interfaced.

[Wren awoke in a hospital bed. She peeked through her eyelashes, scanning the room. No, not a hospital. It was the infirmary at Prometheus. She shifted, and her back ached. Her brow puckered. This was a new pain, separate from her injuries received at Atlas Montgomery's estate. She conducted an internal scan of her systems.

«scanning» |Anomaly in audio processing system detected|

She gritted her teeth. Part of her felt violated by the thought of Prometheus performing surgery on her without her consent. They implanted some sort of device in her audio processor, which meant they'd be listening to everything she said and heard. Either they recorded it or livestreamed it.]

Wren disconnected from Connor, gazing up at him. He blinked rapidly at the disconnection and pinched his brow. He parted his lips as he gazed at Wren. She relaxed slightly. She wanted to tell him everything, but she couldn't. She refused to endanger Connor and Hank that way. Connor pulled her toward him. Wren wrapped her arms around his neck as her body flushed against his. She closed her eyes and buried her face in his neck. His fingers dug into her back as he clung to her. He smelled like home.

Wren withdrew first, her eyes stinging with fresh tears. She cupped Connor's face with her hand for a moment and offered him a tiny smile before turning away. She walked toward the entrance of the alley, Connor's and Hank's eyes on her. Wren turned on her heel to look back at them.

"I like the beanie," she called to Connor. She flashed him another weak smile before turning the corner and leaving them for a second time.

…

Wren left her cell in Prometheus to trek down the hall into the briefing room. It was a small room, with dark grey walls, and a round table and chairs encircling it facing a monitor mounted on the wall. When Wren entered, Pauline sat in one of the chairs, her back straight and her face impassive.

Wren curled her hands into fists. "You didn't tell me about the alarm system. You knew they'd find me."

Pauline lifted her eyebrows. "I needed to test your loyalty. Congratulations, you passed."

Wren's chest burned. "Fuck you. We had a deal, Thomas. Prometheus isn't supposed to go anywhere near them. That includes your twisted little mind games and loyalty tests."

"We sent you, not anyone else, to investigate," said Pauline. "No other Prometheus agent was anywhere near your friends."

"Yeah, because you were just testing me."

"Well, this should make it easier for you to move on. Your friends are safe. You got to see Hank and the RK800 again. What's the fuss about?"

"The fuss is that you're playing with us. We can't move on if you do shit like this," snapped Wren. She turned to leave the room.

"If you don't want Prometheus anywhere near your friends, that includes you, 01. You're Prometheus now."

Pauline's words sent hot flashes running down Wren's back. Wren clenched her teeth and left the briefing room. She turned left and headed into her wing's gym. She had it all to herself, since all of her squadron died.

Wren glanced around the expansive gym and trekked to the treadmill. She pulled her hair into a ponytail and then increased the setting so that she ran, though not at top speed. Her hair bounced and swung with her movements. Her feet pounded the conveyor belt. She wished for her iPod.

The door to the gym opened and CY009 entered. Wren slowed her pace on the treadmill, her brow wrinkling a bit. 09 wrapped her bionic hands with protective cloth. She faced Wren. "Let's spar."

Wren slowed to a walk. "Can't you spar with someone from your squadron?"

09's eyes crinkled. "I've sparred with them for years. I know their moves. I don't know yours."

"We were all trained the same."

"Were we?" 09 tilted her head. "You had no contact with your squadron. You weren't a team."

"And you and the others are?" Wren demanded.

"Yes," said 09.

Wren stopped her treadmill and rubbed the back of her sweaty neck. She shrugged. "Good for you guys." She hopped off the treadmill. She wanted solitude, and it looked like the only place she'd get it was her room. 09 grabbed Wren's wrist. Wren froze and met 09's gaze.

"I still want to spar."

Wren leaned toward 09. "Go spar with your team."

She jerked her hand out of 09's grasp.

09's brow creased. "I'm sorry." She grabbed Wren by the wrist, her synthetic skin disappearing. Before Wren could react, she felt 09's presence in her processor, accessing Wren's memory—

Wren tried to override 09 before she glimpsed Wren's most recent memory of Connor and Hank—one where Prometheus heard nothing suspicious, but if they saw the way Wren stopped Connor from speaking about the letter, they'd instantly want answers—so Wren forced a different memory to the forefront, forcing 09's presence into that one instead.

["The higher-ups and I have been in meeting after meeting the past few months," said Fowler, rubbing his face. "As you all know, Hank and Connor are the only ones who work android-human related cases. Even though the android liberation was peaceful, there are still crimes involving androids and humans. And Hank and Connor's workload just keeps getting heavier and heavier. So, with Markus's help, we've decided to create a whole new branch in the Detroit Police Department dedicated to solving android-human related cases. I was asked to select a team to be the first on that branch. And congratulations to the six of you, you're now the new Human-Android Division of the Detroit Police Department."

Wren's eyes stretched open even further. She looked at Connor, whose eyes broadened. They looked back at Fowler, unable to speak.

"So, uh, we're a team? What, uh, happens next?" said Hank.

"I'm working on having the fifth floor repurposed to give you your own space. We'll be moving drug-related crimes to this floor, and the six of you will move up. All of Hank and Connor's cases have been transferred to the rest of your terminals. You'll get started immediately. You're all dismissed. Go gape at each other somewhere that's not my office." Fowler waved them off.

The six of them trailed out of Fowler's office and into the breakroom. Tina's eyes looked as though they might pop out of her head. She covered her mouth. "Holy shit. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!"

"Detectives," said Chris, shaking his head. He grinned. "That means we get a pay raise!"

"A team? A fucking team?" Gavin folded his arms.

"Great," said Hank, dragging a hand down his face, "I get to work with more children."

Wren looked at Connor, grinning. "We get to be on a team together."

Connor's mouth slid into his usual lopsided smile. "Congratulations on your promotion."

"Thanks," said Wren. She wanted to laugh. "I still can't believe we're all going to be on a team."

Connor's smile widened a bit. "I look forward to working with you, Detective."

The apples of Wren's cheeks popped as she smiled. "Likewise."]

09 gasped as she withdrew from Wren's memory. Wren staggered back, clutching her wrist. The circuits inside seemed frazzled by the memory probe. She scowled at 09, who gaped at Wren.

"You probed my memory."

"Yeah, I did," huffed 09, her brow furrowing, "because you gave me no choice."

Wren's heart still beat faster than it should. "Pauline Thomas put you up to this, didn't she?"

09's face drained of color. "The squad doesn't trust you—"

"So you probe my fucking memory?" Wren snapped.

09 widened her eyes. "We didn't know if you were telling the truth or not—"

"My memory is all that I fucking have left," Wren's voice cracked.

"I'm… I'm sorry," 09 murmured. Wren narrowed her eyes. "They were your squadron."

Wren tensed. She strode toward 09 until they nearly bumped noses. "Don't fucking talk about them. You guys don't trust me; that's fine. I don't trust any of you. So don't you dare talk about them, do you understand?"

09 nodded. "I understand."

Wren pushed past 09, still clutching her wrist. She breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth until she reached her cell. The door slid shut and she leaned against it, trying not to hyperventilate. Her hand trembled, so she clutched her wrist harder and screwed her eyes shut.

…

Wren stuck in her wing of the Prometheus headquarters for the next few days. She exercised on and off throughout the days. She itched to see Rhett and tell him about her encounter with Connor.

She slowed her Tai Chi session, her brow puckering. Perhaps it was better to keep the encounter to herself. She trusted Rhett, but some part of her wondered if he'd be angry that it even happened. It hadn't been her fault, of course. Prometheus orchestrated everything to test her—a notion that set her teeth on edge—but that wouldn't change Rhett's attitude. He wanted her to forget about Connor and her friends in Detroit. He wanted her to move on and focus on her mission, even if it meant she never saw them again.

Wren stopped her movements and placed her hands on her hips. She doubled over and breathed heavily. The memory of Connor's face cut into her chest and she let out a breathy whimper. She leaned her head back toward the ceiling to blink back tears. Taking a bullet for Connor and tearing her lung hurt less than this.

"01."

Wren turned to see CY006 standing in the doorway of the gym. She folded her arms. "Are you here to probe my memory too?"

06 tilted his head. "No. We have a mission."

Wren lifted her eyebrows. "You guys want me to work on a mission with you?"

"I don't," said 06, "but Thomas does. Come on." He turned and disappeared down the corridor. Wren sighed and grabbed her jacket before following him. They entered the briefing room in Squadron Two's wing of the Prometheus building. Wren averted 09's gaze and sat at the table facing the monitor. 06 turned to them. He held a remote in his hand and clicked a button, filling the screen with the picture of a well-dressed man.

"This is Dario Clarence," said 06. "He's the heir to Clarence Empires, a multimillionaire jewelry company. They work overseas more than they do in the States, even though they're both American."

"Because they're overpriced," muttered 07.

Wren glanced at her with twitching lips. Before she turned back to the screen, she caught 09's eye, who glanced away quickly. Wren's brow puckered as she faced the monitor.

"Stay focused," said 06. "Clarence's father is ill, which means that Dario will inherit the empire. He's known for his partying, which normally, Prometheus wouldn't care about. However, Dario's in the business of drug dealing without his father's knowledge. He's recently gotten into poisoning said drugs. We've traced a few failed bioweapon experiments back to him, too. We believe he's about to make a sale at his next party, which is where we come in. He likes models and can't really get a girl himself, so Thomas had 08 and I meet with him last week as businessmen. We showed him your pictures and he picked out two women to be his dates. 01 and 07, that's where the two of you come in. We will watch from the outside, but the two of you are to infiltrate his lab and blow it to bits."

Wren scowled. "His lab is in his house, right?"

"Correct."

Wren worked her jaw for a moment. "Won't there be civilians there?"

"There will," said 06, "but if you plant the explosives correctly, it will just destroy his lab, not the house. The civilians should be safe. 01 and 07, the two of you will need to distract Dario, get into his lab, set the explosives and blow him and his buyer to bits. Understood?"

Wren met 07's gaze before turning back to 06. "Understood."

…

Wren and 07 looked through party dresses that Pauline Thomas picked out for them. Wren wanted something practical for the mission, something not too tight so that she could hide her gun easily. She glanced at 07, who withdrew a sleek black and white dress.

"Have you thought of a name?" Wren asked.

07's brow pinched. "A name?"

"I can't call you 007 in there," said Wren, wrinkling her nose at a yellow dress and sliding it down the rack.

07 frowned. "I hadn't thought about it. Have you?"

"Just call me Wren. I mean, that is my actual name."

07 stepped behind the changing screen. "That's the name you used when you went rogue, isn't it?"

"It's not the name I used; it's my actual name."

"You know your real name?"

Wren brushed her fingers along a light blue dress. It reminded her of Connor's LED. She pulled it off the rack and waited for 07 to emerge. "Yeah. My name is Wren."

"So why do we call you 01?"

"Same reason you and your squadron don't use names," said Wren.

07 stepped out from behind the changing screen. She looked elegant in her gown. The satin fabric hung on her tall, dainty frame like some Hollywood starlet, or a damsel in a spy movie. Wren's lips twitched. 07 frowned. "What? Do I look stupid in this?"

"No, you look like one of James Bond's love interests. I thought it was fitting, 007."

07 smirked as she walked toward the mirror, the satin of her gown gleaming in the florescent light. She looked at herself for a long moment. "That'll be my name, then."

"What?"

"Jamie. For James Bond. Call me Jamie."

Wren grinned. "Got it." She disappeared behind the changing screen and slipped out of her workout clothes and into the gown. The loose V-neck might provide some difficulty in the event of some action, but the fitted waist and high slit seemed practical. Wren stepped out from behind the screen.

"Nice," said Jamie. She furrowed her brow and folded her arms. "I want to make something clear to you, Wren."

Wren lifted her chin. "Okay."

"It's no secret that you don't want to be here. You don't trust us just as much as we don't trust you. If you sabotage this mission—"

"I'm not going to. I don't want to die. And I may not trust any of you, but I certainly don't want to get any of you killed."

Jamie pursed her lips for a moment. She smiled, but no warmth brightened her eyes. "Good. Then there should be no problems."

…

Wren entered the mansion, carrying a small clutch that contained the explosives and detonator for the bomb. A small handgun was strapped to her inner thigh. She stopped at the threshold of the ballroom and peered around it, eyeing the people already dancing. A few snorted cocaine in the corner while a number of people ordered drinks from an open bar at the other side of the ballroom. An even larger group snorting Red Ice. Wren tensed and looked ahead.

"There's Dario," said Jamie. Wren followed Jamie's gaze to the man she recognized from the picture. He was handsome, but he possessed a smile that reminded Wren of grease. He slicked his dark hair back, too.

"Well, he looks like a certified douchebag," Wren muttered.

Jamie snorted. "Definitely."

"Stay focused," CY006's voice sounded in Wren's earpiece.

She cleared her throat. "How do you want to play this?"

"Depends on if you want to be the party animal or me," said Jamie.

Wren stiffened. "I can't be anywhere near Red Ice."

Jamie lifted her eyebrows. "You don't have to take it, you know. We're not supposed to actually party—"

"I know," Wren snapped. [She placed her nostrils against the crushed red substance and inhaled it. The crystals burned up her nostrils and seemed to burn inside her brain.] Wren clenched her hands. "I can't be around it, okay?"

"Okay, fine," said Jamie. "Let's at least get a drink."

They sauntered over to the bar and ordered two cocktails. Then, they made their way over to Dario. He grinned as they approached and spread his arms.

"Ladies," he greeted. "You're even more beautiful in person."

"Mr. Clarence, you flatter us," said Jamie, extending her hand to him.

"Call me Dario." He kissed Jamie's hand, and then took Wren's hand and kissed the top of it.

"I'm Jamie, and my quiet friend here is Wren."

"Lovely names," said Dario, smiling. "Jamie: the feminine form of James, of Hebrew origin meaning 'supplanter' or 'seized by the heel.' And Wren: a nickname for the bird known for its complex songs, or derived from the Anglicized Gaelic Ó Rinn, meaning 'spear.' It seems I am in the presence of two warrior women."

"Or our moms just thought those names sounded cool," said Wren with a shrug.

Dario grinned. "Well, you certainly have a sharp tongue, my dear. I see the two of you have already helped yourselves to drinks. Dance, eat, drink… Enjoy some Red Ice."

"I'd rather enjoy you," murmured Jamie, stepping toward Dario.

"That can be arranged," Dario gripped Jamie by the waist.

Wren downed the rest of her champagne. "I'm out! I'll go and get a new drink."

"No one cares," cooed Jamie, staring deeply into Dario's eyes.

Wren resisted the urge to roll her eyes and disappeared into the crowd. She was careful not to brush her hand, which Dario kissed, against anything as she swept through the house. She took a flight of stairs down to a basement, and then another set of stairs to a solid steel door. A touchpad waited for a hand to scan.

"Alright, I'm at the lab door," Wren breathed into her communicator.

"Did you touch Dario's hand?" queried 010.

"Yes, on my left hand, though the fingerprints are upside down."

"That's fine. Fabricating fingerprints… now. You should be good to go."

Wren placed her left hand onto the touchpad, which scanned her hand and falsified fingerprints. It recognized her as Dario Clarence, and the door slid open. "Okay, I'm in the lab."

"Plant the explosives and get out of there."

Wren worked her way through the expansive laboratory, planting the explosives on the support pillars around the room. She tuned out Jamie's flirting and dirty-talking with Dario and hurried out of the lab to a different section of the house and withdrew the detonator from her clutch.

"Explosives are set and I am ready to set them off," Wren muttered.

"Go ahead," said 06.

Wren prepared to press the button, but paused when Jamie's end of the line crackled. A loud smack sounded and Wren caught the static sound of Jamie's grunt. Wren frowned and pressed her earpiece closer to her ear.

"Hold on, I think something's wrong with Jamie."

"Who?" 06 demanded.

"07," Wren snapped. "Jamie, come in. Can you hear me?"

Silence.

"This is your lab?" Jamie's voice sounded through the earpiece.

Wren widened her eyes. "Jamie, can you get away safely?"

Silence.

Wren switched to 06's channel. "06, Jamie's in trouble."

"You're still cleared to detonate the explosives."

Wren's heart stuttered. "But Jamie—"

"CY007 knows the risks of the job. Proceed with the mission."

Wren flinched as another smack sounded. Dario must have hit Jamie. She bit her lip for a moment. "I'm going back for her."

"01, don't—"

Wren yanked the earpiece from her ear and retrieved her gun from her inner thigh. She hurried down the stairs and kicked off her heels. She stopped before the door and shot the control panel, allowing the door to slide open. Immediately, an alarm sounded. Wren hurried into the center of the lab, where Dario, two guards and a woman stood. Wren shot the two guards before any of them reacted. The woman turned and raised her gun, but Wren ducked behind a concrete pillar. Debris shattered by Wren's shoulder from the unknown woman's gunshot.

Jamie grunted as she disarmed Dario. Wren peeked around the pillar and fired two shots. She hit the woman, who stood with no cover. Wren emerged from behind the pillar just as Jamie fired a bullet between Dario's eyes.

Jamie huffed and lowered her gun. "Well, that didn't go as planned."

Wren glanced down at the woman. She rolled the woman over to scan her face before straightening. "Why'd he even bring you down here?"

"He was going to start his meeting early, and I wanted to give you more time. That made him suspicious." Jamie shrugged.

Wren pressed her lips together and flicked her eyes toward the alarm ringing. "Well… Looks like we're doing this the hard way."

Jamie looked past Wren and widened her eyes. "Take cover!"

Wren ducked behind a pillar as gunfire exploded in the room. She peeked around when there was a pause in gunfire. She aimed and shot one guard. Jamie downed another. They continued firing until they downed the four guards.

"Let's move!" Wren led the way out of the lab, Jamie close on her heels. They hid in the basement as more guards descended to investigate the alarm sounding in the lab. The ringing faded as Wren and Jamie emerged from the basement and onto one of the main levels of the mansion. They stowed their guns and hurried into the ballroom. They sat at the bar while Wren gripped the detonator under the counter. She pressed the button and the house shuddered as a loud bang sounded below.

As the partygoers screamed and rushed for the exits, Wren and Jamie blended in with them, screaming and hurrying outside. They hurried all the way to the street. They walked a block, where 08 picked them up in a van.

…

"Well, that certainly could've gone more smoothly, but you got the job done." Pauline stood with folded arms in the briefing room. She frowned at Squadron Two, who all bowed their heads. Wren held Pauline's gaze.

Wren lifted her chin. "Did you identify who the buyer was?"

Pauline dipped her head. "Lilith Aron. Prometheus has actually been tracking her movements for a few years. She's smart and knows how to stay out of the public eye. She avoids getting tied to her crimes, which is why we haven't pursued her. I suppose the best way to catch her was in the act."

"I apologize for our inefficiency, Supervisor Thomas." CY006 bowed his head.

Pauline creased her brow. "You got the job done. I'd say you were efficient, if rough. Until next time." She left the briefing room.

No one moved. Jamie turned her head toward 06. "I heard you tell Wren to go ahead and set off the explosives."

06 regarded her with an impassive expression. "That's the job, 07. We are supposed to put the mission first."

Jamie worked her jaw. "Jamie. My name's Jamie."

06 narrowed his eyes. "We don't have names."

"Yeah, we fucking do. And my name's Jamie."

06 glowered at Wren. "This is all your fucking fault. You're going to destroy everything." He left the briefing room.

09, 08 and 010 exchanged a glance. 010 leaned forward. "07, we're not supposed to have names…"

"Why not?" Jamie demanded. "Because then it breeds attachment? Individuality? From where I'm sitting, I'm pretty damn thankful for individuality. If Wren had just obeyed orders like a fucking mouth-breather, I'd be dead."

08 and 010 looked at each other, 09 gazed at Wren and Jamie, tears glimmering in her eyes. Wren's heart clenched for them. She looked into 09's eyes and saw herself. She saw her own desire to be more than just a sum of her parts in Jamie's glare. But she also saw the terror of breaking free in 08's and 010's eyes. She knew.

08, 010 and 09 exited the room after a several seconds of tense silence. Wren stood to leave, but Jamie grabbed her arm.

"I never said thank you for coming back for me."

Wren's lips twitched. "No problem. Even James Bond needs help from time to time."

Jamie smirked, but it faltered as tears filled her eyes. "I don't want to be disposable."

Wren's heart twisted. She placed a hand on Jamie's arm. "You're not, trust me. None of us are. We're too expensive."

Jamie's brow puckered. "Is that why you're still here?"

Wren pressed her lips together for a moment. "Part of the reason."

Jamie nodded. She stepped past Wren but stopped in the doorway. "How did you know you were a deviant?"

Wren's heart plummeted. She widened her eyes as the color drained from her face. "It was a choice. If you're ever faced with that choice… You'll know."

Jamie looked at Wren and parted her lips to say something else, but Wren placed a finger over her lips. She tapped her ear. Jamie nodded. Prometheus was listening. They were always listening.

…

Shorter chapter, but we're starting to pick things up! (I promise Connor and Wren will reunite again soon!)
Thank you guys SO MUCH for the support! Y'all really keep me going.