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Alyson

Zach took after our father.

That was something I'd said only once before, right after he'd left us for his darling Gallagher Girl. Then, the thought had been laced with anger and venom. Now, it was simply a statement— one I was unsettled to find true.

"Alyson Goode, I've been told," the man next to Zach said. He looked me over, unimpressed. I bristled. Who was he to be sizing me up? The man who hadn't bothered to be apart of our lives at all.

My brother could see the venom building. He let his hand slip out of his Gallagher Girl's and took a small step forward. "Alyson—"

"Shut up, Zach."

There was no denying the resemblance. Not merely features, but stature, posture, speech. They were mirrored between them as they both watched me. It was strange to see things so familiar in someone so new. How long had I seen it and not known it was our father's? How many things did I share with the man across the glass?

"Ally's a little grumpy." All eyes moved down to Clara. She'd made herself at home, leaning against the glass barrier with her knees pulled to her chest. Her hair was longer, falling past her shoulders. Her bangs probably covered her eyes like some early 2000s teen. "When she's grumpy, she yells at Zach."

"Alyon's the more, explosive sibling—" if there hadn't been a barrier, Zach would have already been punched.

"I can speak for myself, Zachy." I didn't want to be here. He knew that. Maybe I was finished running, but I'd never said anything about no longer being angry. There was no way in hell I was letting Zach take the lead in this conversation. I couldn't outrun this conversation, but maybe I could regain a fraction of control.

Straightening up, I met my father's gaze head-on. "I've heard your the man responsible for me being raised by a highly unbalanced woman?"

Zach snorted under his breath, "That's one way to put it." Cameron touched his arm, and he glanced back at her.

Our father let out a short breath. "I wasn't aware of your existence." He said it as if he were tired of explaining this particular fact. My teeth ground together. He didn't get to be tired of explaining why I'd been forced to watch my mother descend into a crazed woman.

"That doesn't change anything."

Zach looked at me with something like pity, and my hands turned to fists. Clara turned slightly to look at me. I refused to meet her eyes. Against the opposite wall, Cameron was watching us with her lips pressed into a thin line.

Our father took a step forward— as if that could bring him any leverage. I wasn't a little girl, and he didn't intimidate me at all. "No, my knowledge or lack thereof makes absolutely no difference to your actions," he said. His eyes narrowed when my lips pulled into a smirk.

I leaned forward. "I see where you get your 'I'm brooding and want to be taken seriously' face from, Zachy."

"Alyson—" my brother started.

Clara jumped up from her spot, and Cameron looked ready to pounce on her. But my cousin merely turned and looked me dead in the eye. Her gaze was startlingly intense. "You're running."

Zach looked between us. "Clara?"

She turned to him. "She's been running for so long. From the Circle, towards you, away from the fire, away from you, away from herself. She's still running. Running running running—" her voice climbed in pitch until Zach reached out, touching her shoulder. Clara blinked and took a breath, her voice much softer, "No more running."

My throat was tight, trying to choke me itself. Zach looked at Clara for a moment before meeting my eyes. "No more running."

There's an impulse you get after being told not to do something, to do that very thing. I could feel the flames closing in around me, growing bigger just behind me. The smoke was going to choke me if I didn't get out, get away.

"Alyson."

My head snapped to the man who'd just said my name as if it were part of his everyday vocabulary, coated in something like care. He didn't look at me as if I was a criminal at that instant. My eyes narrowed, and I tried to ignore the fact that my hands were shaking.

"Townsend—"

Our father held a hand up, silencing my brother just like that. The smoke was clouding around me, thickening the air and burning my lungs. I had to move, had to leave, couldn't look him in the eyes.

"Alyson, look at me."

My eyes were traitors. His were steady and almost caring.

"In for four."

He didn't elaborate. I refused, looking away. I didn't need his help. I didn't need anyone. When he slammed his fist against the glass, I flinched. Zach didn't. My eyes were drawn, compelled to meet his stare again. It was stern but unbothered. The heat was eating at my back, making my hands twitch again.

He didn't say anything. But I took a deliberate inhale for four beats. It burned, smoke filling my lungs. Townsend nodded slightly. "Hold for seven."

Behind me, the flames stilled, flickering, waiting.

"Out for eight."

It came out harsh and with a frustrated yell. I smacked the glass barrier. "I don't need your help."

He eyed me for a moment. "No. You don't. You don't need anyone, do you, Alyson?" When I didn't respond, he continued. "You didn't need your brother. You didn't need your mother. You don't need me."

My eyes went to Zach, a silent plea. My brother just stared.

"You're alone now, Alyson. You have everything you need. Yourself."

The flames were growing again. My nails were biting into my palms, the tough skin splitting again.

Townsend didn't relent. "I've heard Zach talk about you. I've listened to the other boys. I've talked to Clara about you. You had everything under your control. Why stop?"

Cameron was still watching from behind my brother. Clara was staring at me with too wide eyes. She always did that when she was thinking. Too wide. Too knowing. Too hot. Too much.

"Why come here, Alyson? You don't need anything or anyone here. Why walk in?"

"Shut up!" My hand hit the glass too hard. A sharp pain shot through my fingers, and an ache chased it. Across from me, Townsend merely raised an eyebrow.

Zach eyed my hand. "Ally—"

"Just… stop, Zach." I looked up at him. "You win." My voice didn't crack. Only my pride did that. "I'm done. You left, you chose these people, you turned your back on everything we were, and now you've even taken Clara." I looked between them. "There's nothing left to lose." My fingers were still throbbing. At least one of them was broken. "And I—" the smoke was gone, but my lungs still burned. "I can't keep going alone."

Clara frowned. "You're not alone, Ally."

Townsend eyed me carefully. "I believe we have a lot to discuss concerning your options."

Bex

"Liz, stop pacing, you're going to make yourself dizzy."

She paused for half a step before continuing to pace. "Do you think she's going to break up with him?"

I rolled my eyes. "Somehow, I don't think that's the biggest concern right now." A better question would have been whether or not Macey was willing to let Preston live. I'd seen Macey mad. I'd seen her furious. I'd seen her after being told that her one of a kind European shoes were out of style. But nothing had matched the look in her eyes when she'd seen Preston walk in with Alyson Goode.

If we were lucky, Abby and the others wouldn't notice if she attacked him— at least not until after the fact.

"She never took off the restraints."

Preston had technically been cleared just before Cam and Zach had left for their little chat with Alyson a few hours ago. Abby and Rachel had deemed it better for us to stay and monitor Preston than listen to the Goode's little family meeting. Macey had taken the opportunity to grill Preston on things that weren't exactly matters of life or death to anyone but them two.

The door slid open.

Grant Newman never appeared to be bothered. He was never agitated until he was screaming like a kettle. Right now, it was that very fact that made me want to rip the stupid smile off his face.

"You're supposed to be with Abby," Liz said, her footsteps finally stalling. She frowned at Grant and crossed her arms around herself. "We don't need you in here."

Grant glanced from Liz to where I was seated at a table. He took one step, and I stood up, eyes narrowing. "Liz is right," I said, layering my voice with as much ice as I could. "We don't need you here."

He stopped, a huff escaping. "Relax," he looked between us again, "I'm just here to tell you Cammie and Zach are done with their little meeting. Rachel wants everyone." His eyes flickered to the one-way. "Both of them too."

There was a moment in which he waited, expecting Liz or me to answer. When neither of us did, Grant frowned and left the room. I shut it behind him.

Liz walked over to the communication console. "I find it interesting," she said, not looking at me, "that Macey hasn't stopped interrogating Preston since he got here. But you haven't said more than two sentences at a time to Grant." She pressed a button, and through the glass, I saw Macey's head turn towards the window.

I decided Liz's observation didn't need addressing as Macey walked through the door. "What's going on?" she asked.

"Cam and Zach are done. Rachel wants all of us to meet with them." I pointed to the boy who was no longer tied to the table thanks to Liz. "All of us."

Macey looked like she wanted to protest for a second. Then Preston walked out of the room with Liz, and her jaw set. She looked tired. We all were, but Macey never looked tired. She never looked disheveled. Cammie once had said that her hair must have some superhuman ability to appear completely perfect at any given moment.

None of us looked perfect now.

Hardly any of us looked remotely functional at the moment.

Macey took one look at Preston before striding to the door. "Let's go then."

….

"You actually believe her?" I asked. There was no restraining the anger seeping into my words. "After everything, you honestly believe she's just decided she's done trying to kill us? That she actually doesn't have an ulterior motive here?" There were trust and loyalty. Then there was stupidity.

Zach didn't meet my eyes when he spoke. "She wouldn't come here just to lie. I know Aly—"

"Keep telling yourself that." Grant hadn't said much this entire meeting, but his posture hadn't relaxed either.

Joe cleared his throat. Both Grant and Zach's eyes flickered to him before they both shut up.

Rachel looked between them before turning her eyes to the rest of us. She looked at us like we'd all been called into her office. I wondered offhandedly if she would ever really stop being my Headmistress. "We don't trust her," she said. "No one here actually trusts her. What we do trust is the fact she's been unable to lie since we locked her up." Rachel pressed her fingertips to the table. "That girl cannot physically lie, and she just agreed to a surrender. Clara has been medically cleared. Our plan is to keep them somewhere secure until we locate Evelyn."

"And then what?" Macey asked. "Just release them back into the wild?"

Abby snorted. "Like hell we are."

Beside her, Townsend shook his head. "I'll take responsibility for my daughter." Hearing him say the words out loud had an effect on everyone in the room. Even our breathing seemed to get quieter. Townsend kept his eyes on the table as he continued. "She'll be kept somewhere secure, and if she ever tries anything remotely rebellious—"

"What about Clara?" Jonas cut Townsend off. His glasses were slipping down his nose. Beside me, Liz's hand stilled, pen against her notebook.

Rachel was the one who answered. "Clara will be kept here for the time being. Until further developments, she will be monitored closely."

Everyone was silent for a minute. No one wanted to argue. No one wanted to question. None of us had slept in three days. We just wanted it to be over. Even spies have breaking points.

When we split up after the meeting, Cam, Liz, Macey, and I made our way to the hidden elevator. After the scanner read our retinas, Liz slumped against the wall.

She sighed. "I guess it's almost over, huh?"

It seemed that way. Alyson was locked up and cooperating. Clara was being watched. Zach and the boys were out of secrets to spill. Everything seemed to be coming to a close.

Maybe that's why Cammie made it a point to say, "It's not over yet."

My best friend was the best spy I knew. She stared at our reflections in the elevator door without so much as a blink as she reminded us not to relax too soon. Cammie had always seemed to have an instict— a sixth sense for this. We were all good. But Cammie, she was great.

When the doors opened, and Cammie took a step out we all watched her. Her voice didn't waver, her eyes never faltered as she said, "It doesn't feel over."

My best friend was the best spy I knew.

If she said it wasn't over, I believed her.

I know this chapter isn't my best. But hey. It's something. And! I managed a weekly update. Personally, I think a crappy chapter every week beats no chapters for a year? So I call this a win.

I'm seeing this story having about five-ish more chapters? Maybe? That's just a guess. I have an outline, but hey, this chapter isn't even in it, but it was necessary, so here it is.

We'll see how it goes. Thank you for reading!