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I didn’t know how long or how far we walked, but it seemed like forever, like we were walking in circles. Finally, the trees thinned out and the farm we’d passed earlier came into view. Cows grazed in the field. The old tractor in the picture was gone, but the landscape itself looked similar.

We walked parallel to the farm fence until we reached the farthest
corner. From there, we headed north, trying to match our surroundings to the picture of Sam and Dani.

A few birch trees dotted the landscape, but none in a group of four like in the picture or the tattoo. We walked until we almost couldn’t see the farm anymore before we found something that might match. We moved around the cluster of trees so that we could see them from the same angle as in the picture. Over the years, they’d gotten bigger, widening at the trunks. The branches were bare now, the bark peeling in lengthy ribbons.

Sam and I stood shoulder to shoulder, staring at the scene in front of us. He held up the picture and, sure enough, it was a match.

“They don’t match the tattoo, though,” he said.

“But it still feels familiar, doesn’t it? There’s something…”

The dozens and dozens of drawings I’d done of my mother at the lake came to mind. I’d spent a crazy amount of time analyzing every detail in her photo to get the sketches right—the shadows, the highlights, the angle of the trees. I knew what to look for, how to see a pattern that I could copy onto paper. And something about Sam’s photo and the tattoo seemed off.

Think, Anna.

There was nothing wrong with the photo. It hadn’t been altered, as far as I could tell. All the angles were right, the proportions, the shadows—

“The shadows!”

Sam frowned. “What about them?”

The pattern started to form in my head. The trees in front of us went large tree first, slightly in front of a skinnier tree, then a space of three feet, then a crooked tree. One more foot, and then another skinny tree.

I knew that pattern.

“Turn around,” I said. “Let me see the tattoo.”

Sam grasped the sides of his shirt and lifted it up to his shoulders. I looked to the shadows the trees cast. They were wrong. I’d thought they were an error on the artist’s part, but maybe not.

I put the photo against Sam’s back, checking the shadows from left to right.

Large tree in front of a skinnier tree. Space. Crooked tree. Space. Skinny tree.

“The shadows in the tattoo match the trees here,” I said in a rush. “The tattoo itself is reversed.”

Sam hesitated for a sliver of a second before going to the third tree and from there counting out the steps to meet sixty paces. That’s what the clue said, the one he’d found at the cabin: sixty paces north from the third tree.

The path led us away from the cluster of trees and farther into the woods. Soaked ferns left trails of fresh rain at our calves. Sam reached sixty steps quickly, and we stared down at the dirt. This was the spot where all the answers lay buried.

“We need a shovel,” I said.

“Stay here. Don’t move.” He ran off toward the farm. I lost sight of him when he disappeared over a hill.

In the quiet, every thump sounded like a footstep, like boots crushing twigs. I made a complete circle, checking for signs of trouble. Thankfully, I found none, and when Sam reappeared, I exhaled with relief.

“Where did you get that?” I asked, nodding at the shovel in his hands.

“Does it matter?”

“No, I guess not.” I stepped aside as he plunged the tip of the shovel into the dirt.

The earth came up easily and he snagged only a few roots, the shovel snapping through with a
crack
. It took him at least a half hour to dig a hole deep enough to stand in. I stood at the top and fidgeted, shifting my weight from one foot to the other, every tiny little noise putting me on alert.

What would we do if Riley or Connor found us now?

Sam grunted, heaving another shovelful of dirt onto the pile.

“Are you sure you counted right? We could try another hole. I’ll dig for a while.”

Sam looked up at me, dirt and rain covering his forehead. “I counted right. I just don’t know how far down to go. Or whether it’s even still here.”

The sky brightened to a grayish shade of yellow as the sun rose. We were running out of time. Trev and Nick were probably worried by now; we’d been gone for hours. And Cas?
I hope he’s all right.

Sam swung down with the shovel and the sharp
clang
of metal
hitting metal answered back, just like in the graveyard. An unwieldy sense of déjà vu rose in me. Sam scraped away the earth with his fingers, revealing a thick metal safe stuck in the ground, its door facing up. He tried lifting it, but he had trouble getting it to budge. He must have had help lowering it down there five years ago.

“Can you open it?” I asked. There was a simple combination lock on the door above a levered handle.

He grabbed the shovel and swung it down again. Sparks exploded from the safe as the shovel made contact. He swung again and the lock crunched in on itself. Another swing popped the lock out entirely.

He tossed the shovel aside and wrenched the door open. Loose dirt avalanched through the open door and Sam swiped it away, revealing a package. It was wrapped in tattered cloth, tied tight with twine. He handed it to me before hoisting himself up onto level ground.

After wiping his hands on his pants, he tore off the twine and unwrapped the cloth, revealing a plastic zipper bag stuffed with papers and a curled notebook. He pulled the contents out and started flipping through them.

“Does it mean anything to you?”

He scrutinized the loose papers. “They’re logs and graphs, similar to what you and Arthur used in the lab. Blood results and logs of mental tests, but the names… Look.”

I read over his shoulder.

Matt. Lars. Trev.

“Trev was part of a different group?”

I held the files as he inspected the notebook. It was a simple spiral-bound book with a black cover, no writing on the front. He opened it, revealing lined paper on the inside, the pages yellowed.

The first page read:

February 14

Results going well. New group showing
promise, abilities are similar to Sam’s. Control
still an issue. Cohesion only stable throughout the
unit. They will not listen to commander or me.

Thoughts: If we can alter units to work
as one, can we alter them to take
orders from a “programmed”
commander? Must explore.

Sam and I looked at each other.

“Keep going,” I said.

He turned another page.

March 22

After interested parties grew impatient,
released three of the units. Sam grew
agitated when he realized they were
missing. Will monitor situation closely.

**Operation ALPHA under way**

Sam flipped through a few more pages, to May 2.

Outsourced units not performing well.
Memory flashes render them useless. Must
look into more permanent memory wipes.

Will send one of the others for cleanup.
Sam is out of the question. Aggression
has gotten worse. Will listen to no one
except Dani. Are these attributes
we can relate to ALPHA?

**Arthur has agreed to undertake
Operation ALPHA**

“I don’t know whose handwriting that is,” I said.

“It’s not Connor’s.” Sam shifted his weight so that he could prop the notebook open on his lap. He flipped through several more pages, but the rest were blank.

I searched through the logs, looking for Trev’s files. In the middle of the stack, I stalled. “Look at this.”

Sam’s name was written across the top, and next to it, SUCCESSFUL MISSIONS.

There were names listed below that, with titles and statuses. A
scientist in Texas—Eliminated. A U.S. senator—Eliminated. A CEO based in New York—Eliminated.

I stifled a horrified shudder. “You had
a résumé
.”

Sam snatched the pages away and scanned the info. “There are kill sheets for all of us. Nick. Cas. Trev. There are several other names here, too.” He flipped to another sheet. “Bank account numbers. Wire transfers from foreign countries.” Anger notched the space between his brows. “They were taking deposits on us.”

“Sura said the Branch has immunity from the U.S. government, provided they’re given first pick on whatever they develop. This”—I nodded at the evidence—“promising the ‘units’ to other countries, taking money from them, would probably strip them of that immunity.”

“Worse than that,” Sam said. “They’d be shut down. I must have stolen this, with Dani’s help. And when they found out, they took her.”

“With the intent to use her to get to you,” I added. “So you came here five years ago to retrieve the evidence, but they must have apprehended you before you could make it back to this spot.”

“And then they cleaned out my memories.” He snapped his head up, like he’d heard something.

I jolted. “What is it?”

He tucked the evidence beneath his arm. “Run.”

We were up on our feet and running in a heartbeat. We headed
north, away from the farm, away from my old house. I trailed behind Sam by two or three feet, but came to a jarring stop when Trev stepped out from behind a tree.

Sam hunched over. “Damn it, Trev. I thought you were one of Connor’s men. I almost shot you.”

Trev slid a gun out from beneath his shirt and pointed it at Sam. “I’m sorry,” he said, so quietly I wasn’t sure I’d heard him.

I took a step back, but Sam held his ground. “What the hell are you doing?”

I cast a glance over my shoulder and gasped. “Sam.”

Riley was behind us, along with two of his men. Nick was there, too, arms pinned behind his back.

“Trev?” Sam said.

Riley spoke first. “Number one rule of an operation, Samuel: Have a man undercover.”

As I looked at Trev and he looked at me, several things clicked into place. Trev was the one who’d lost the guns. He was the only one who escaped the cabin unscathed, having been conveniently outside with the dog. And he was the one who had the other cell phone, who could call whoever, whenever he wanted, to alert them to our location.

“No.” The word came out strangled.

I’d trusted Trev the most out of all the boys. He was my best friend.

I stumbled back. My eyes blurred. “Trev?”

“Quit stalling,” Riley barked.

Trev made a grab for me. Sam moved, too, but not fast enough. And I wasn’t ready to fight. I didn’t want to believe it.

Trev swung an arm around my neck, positioning the gun at my head.

I felt like I was breaking in two. He’d deceived me. And he’d done a good job of it, too. I’d never, ever questioned his loyalty.

“Toss your guns,” Riley said. “And the documentation.”

Don’t, Sam
, I thought.
Run. If anyone can escape, it’s you.

But he didn’t. He didn’t even hesitate. He dropped the evidence at his feet, then pulled the gun out from beneath his shirt and tossed it to the soggy ground.

Riley nodded at one of his men. The taller, balding agent retrieved Sam’s gun and the evidence we’d dug up before resuming his position at Riley’s side.

I shifted, looking for a weakness in Trev’s hold, but he only drew me closer.

As Riley barked out more orders, Trev whispered in my ear: “It’s the alterations. Sam and the others are powerless when it comes to you. Don’t you see, Anna? You’re the whole reason we’re here.”

I tried to digest what he was saying. Was he trying to feed me more lies? My mind raced through all the things Sam and I had read in the files we unearthed.

The Branch had always had an issue with controlling Sam. So they started Operation ALPHA, hoping to implement a “programmed” commander. They wanted to program him into cooperating.

As Riley tapped in a few numbers on his cell phone and one of the men came around to handcuff Sam, Sam’s words came back to me:
If you’re trying to make the ultimate weapon, you don’t lock it in a basement for five years. You put it on the field and test and alter it until it’s perfect.

Realization washed over me. The lab had been the field. And every interaction between the boys and me had been a test. We’d been living and testing and altering the program right there in the farmhouse.

I was the “commander,” and the boys were programmed to listen to and protect me.

“I’m the key to Operation ALPHA,” I said.

Riley went silent. He slid his phone into his pocket.

“When I ask the boys to stop, they stop,” I said. “They listen to me without fail.” I thought back to everything that had happened in the last few days. At the house in Pennsylvania, I’d asked Nick not to hurt that cop with the wastebasket, and he hadn’t. I’d asked Sam not to kill Riley behind the mall, and he hadn’t, even though in Sam’s position it made total sense to do it. And last night, Sam and Nick stopped fighting when I told them to.

Of course they had an overwhelming urge to protect me. Even if they found out I had the ability to control them, they wouldn’t turn on me. Because somehow the Branch had programmed them not to.

The Branch, Connor, Riley—they’d covered all their bases.

“But why me?”

Riley tilted his head to the side, analyzing me, picking me apart with his eyes.

“Because the only person Sam listened to was your older sister. And then she died.”

I sucked in a breath. Dani was dead? Pain crept into Sam’s eyes.

Riley didn’t pause to let the news sink in. “We’d already dumped too much money into Sam to let him go. So, Plan B. Dani wasn’t the only O’Brien sister, was she?”

The notes said that Operation ALPHA was supposed to explore the possibility of replicating the control attributes between Dani and Sam. And they’d done it. They’d produced an artificial link between the boys and me. They’d taken something that was human—love, respect, trust—and made it into something scientific, valuable.