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agents
supporting my best friend, there were two more standing directly
behind her. The same formation was being used for each of the other
culprits. Considering Alana and the rest were obviously heavily
drugged, four agents per person was excessive. This was all for
show, with carefully calculated implications. It conveyed to the
public that the Created—we, I was one of them, this message was
about me as well—were highly dangerous, something to be feared. And
that UNITED was strong, capable, and in control. Even if they
hadn’t been drugged, even with their Created Talents, the prisoners
didn’t have a prayer of overpowering their captors.
    I focused on Walburton again—my heart
couldn’t bear watching Alana in that condition for another
moment—in case she passed along potentially useful information. The
Councilwoman was assuring the world that UNITED would continue to
stand guard against Created. The camera view suddenly panned out,
ostensibly to get all of the detainees in the frame. Over to the
side, previously off-screen, a figure caught my eye.
    She was dressed in head-to-toe black, in the
same garb I’d worn to train for my Hunters exam. An Adapti-suit.
The other guards on-stage were dressed in similar suits, but theirs
were gray with the UNITED emblem on the chest. The girl’s chestnut
curls were tied back in a high ponytail. Her posture was rigid and
alert. Assessing eyes scanned the area for signs of new threats.
She was poised as if expecting a hovercraft to appear from thin air
and open fire, or a regiment of TOXIC operatives to explode from an
alleyway for a rescue attempt. Anger and betrayal flared through me
in an instant, white hot and ready to explode.
    Come on,
Talia , I thought bitterly. You know better than that. TOXIC would never risk
the lives of that many operatives to save a few. The Director would
never allow such a rescue, we all knew what we’d signed up for.
Unless, of course, it’s you who needs saving. In that case, to hell with
everyone else. Let’s all parade off to our executions, to save
Talia. Even if it’s from herself and her own asinine
decisions.
    In my fury, my mental
diatribe had forgotten—Director McDonough was dead. It was still so
hard to believe. He’d dedicated his entire life to making the lives
of Talented better. And now, he wasn’t calling the shots anymore.
He was— Wait…was anyone calling the shots? No, I realized. There must not
be anyone in charge anymore. Because no one would’ve authorized
Alana’s ridiculous mission. No one had taken the helm. TOXIC, the
greatest organization on earth, had died with its greatest
Director.
    Another realization seared
through my mind, this one leaving me cold and terrified. With no
one in charge, with TOXIC gone…I was truly, genuinely,
absolutely…alone. My heart sank all the way to my feet, stopping
only when it hit the floorboards. I’d felt alone for weeks now, but
I’d thought it was just temporary. I’d thought that I just had to
survive for a while, to stay off of the radar. I’d thought that,
eventually, TOXIC would make it safe for me to come home. Or maybe
they’d even come rescue me, take me back to fight alongside my
brethren. We had to fight for our autonomy, to stand up to UNITED. For the
right to make the world a better place.
    Now I knew that all of that was just
hope-filled delusions. This was it. This was reality. Permanent
reality. It was only me, alone. No one else was here, no one else
was coming. No one cared what happened to me. No one had my back.
No one would come to my rescue if I was captured.
    I couldn’t even count on my
mom. Sure, she was a strong woman. If she got wind that UNITED had
me, she’d probably sit outside their headquarters with a homemade
sign, demanding my freedom. But that was about the scope of her
ability to help. Obviously, that tactic would get her nowhere.
Alana’s parents were in Manhattan, and UNITED was still taking
her.
    Why was UNITED doing this?