MARCO

TWO DAYS LATER

The mall's a wreck when we get there. Broken glass sparkles under the dull morning light, and yellow caution tape flaps lazily in the breeze. The front doors of the sporting goods store are completely smashed in, and a quick glance inside shows overturned shelves, scattered clothes, and a few random items lying in the middle of the floor—flashlights, duffel bags, a pair of hiking boots.

[Gorilla] Tobias says, landing lightly on a nearby light post. He ruffles his feathers, looking annoyed. [I heard security talking about it. They caught a glimpse of it on the cameras before it smashed them. Took cash, clothes, a tent, and some other camping stuff. Happened after the mall closed last night. By the time anyone got here, it was gone.]

I glance at the wreckage, then back at Tobias. "Not me, I swear," I say, raising my hands. "I was home watching The Simpsons."

Tobias doesn't even dignify that with a response, just swivels his head back toward the shattered entrance.

Jake's already scanning the area, trying to piece together what happened, even though we all know exactly who's behind it. "We're hours too late," he says. "David's probably halfway across town by now."

"No kidding." I shove my hands in my pockets and glance over at Rachel. She's standing a few feet away, arms crossed, eyes narrowed at the wreckage. She looks… distant. Distracted. The usual fire in her is muted, like she's not really here.

For a second, her gaze flicks to mine. Our eyes meet—just barely—before she looks away, her jaw tightening. There's something in her eyes that pulls at me. Guilt. Regret. But it's not hers to carry.

She doesn't see it, but I do. She's blaming herself. I can see it in the way she stands, the tightness of her shoulders, the set of her face. And it makes me sick to my stomach because I know it's not her fault. Not any of it.

She cares. She cared about David. But that doesn't mean she was wrong. He manipulated all of us. Me, too. And I shouldn't have let myself get so angry at her, not when she's already been through hell. Not when she's already been used like that.

I feel the weight of what I said to her. It's still hanging in the air, those words—cold, harsh words that I wish I could take back. I should've stood by her. I should've helped her. But I was too busy letting my own hurt and anger control me.

My throat tightens, but I force myself to look away. She doesn't need to see my guilt. She doesn't need to feel like I'm adding to her burden. Not now. Not after everything we've been through.

Jake sighs and rubs his temples. "We might as well look around, see if he left any clues."

"Like what?" I say, sharper than I mean to. "A thank-you note for the free gear?"

Jake gives me a look but doesn't bother responding. We're all on edge. Tired, frustrated, and, frankly, out of ideas. David's running circles around us, and every hour we spend chasing him is an hour we're not focused on more important things.

Rachel's arms are crossed, her eyes locked on the wreckage. "He's sending a message," she says, her voice low. "Showing us he's not scared. But also that he's focused on himself. Not the Yeerks, not even his parents."

Jake frowns, his hands on his hips. "He's not thinking long-term. He's just lashing out."

"Yeah," I say, bitterness creeping into my tone. "And making sure we know he can do whatever he wants, whenever he wants."

Rachel's jaw tightens. "He's unhinged, but he's not stupid. He knows we won't just let him get away with this. He's daring us to stop him."

I glance at her, that nagging feeling still tight in my chest. She doesn't deserve any of this. I shouldn't have let myself get so angry with her.

"Let's get moving," Jake says, breaking the silence. "We'll figure it out as we go. David's not gonna let us off that easy."

We don't have any better ideas. So we start walking, the weight of everything pressing down on us. We don't know where David is, but we know he's out there—waiting. And sooner or later, we're going to have to decide what to do about him.

But as I look at Rachel, I realize something. I've been holding onto this idea that she's responsible for all the mess David caused, when all along it was him. Not her. She was just trying to protect us. Just like I was. She doesn't need to carry that guilt.

I do.

And I'll make sure I fix it. I have to.